#and his father is the reason hes even so deep into solving mysteries like

[lady-phasma]

I want to write a lestat fic so bad I’m practically foaming at the mouth!! I want to do his character justice though. Would you spare some lestat characterization tips mayhaps?

Hi anon! I am so unbelievably flattered that you came to me. I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to reply. Would you like ✏️ anon if you come back?

I hope I answer this well. He is my oldest, dearest blorbo so I'm going to answer with series and book (head)canon, so there are some pretty hefty spoilers below the cut.

Characterization tips....

When in doubt, go bigger and more French! Do you doubt something you're writing for him is believable? You're probably wrong. This guy found Atlantis in canon. He has flown into the sun, switched bodies with a human, and met the literal, actual Devil.

Would he realistically flirt in your scenario? Yes. But what if...? Yes. He will always flirt. Always.

But on a more serious note, Lestat is very vain because he is incredibly powerful yet insecure. He can cause a lot of damage and is his own worst enemy. The embodiment of chaos.

Anne didn't christen him The Brat Prince for no reason at all. He not only pouts when he doesn't get what he wants, he often pouts when he gets exactly what he wants. He is rarely satisfied and once a mystery is solved or an objective obtained he's ready to move on.

Something that makes him particularly appealing to me has always been his contrasts, how he can be so self-centered and horrible, but love so openly and deeply. If he loves someone he would die for them, as long as he looked good doing it. He can hate and love the same person in the same moment and still give them everything he has. But, he will always try to be a step ahead to have his own safety net because trust isn't his thing.

Lestat has such an odd mix of confidence and insecurity. He never once questioned why the Queen of the vampires would be enamored with him. Of course she would be. But even during all of his drama with Akasha he pined for Louis. Many of his exploits are to get the attention of someone who isn't giving him enough at the moment.

I'm going to do a deep TVL dive real quick because this is the foundation of who he is for me. The Wolfkiller. He was embarrassed at being "poor" aristocracy and the one warm coat he had was the one the villagers made for him from the wolf pelt. He wasn't proud of that event, but that coat meant more to him than they could possibly imagine.

Also, he loves dogs. Seriously, if you need to write him having a pet dog, go for it. Especially mastiffs and boucherons (book and series canon).

I don't particularly like the word "flamboyant" for him, but he is. He is performative. Rarely does he do anything that isn't thoroughly thought through if someone is watching. He is equally impetuous if it looks good.

Lastly, some emotional characterization. He hates to appear vulnerable, but is constantly vulnerable. It's almost as if he doesn't know how to mask that part of him. His desperation to be part of the Italian acting troupe was obvious almost to the point of being a pathetic fanboy. He can't help but be incredibly earnest. Even if it causes him pain or embarrassment.

The Father of Lies, the Brat Prince, Wolfkiller, Lelio... Lestat is all of these things. That's what has always made him such a rich character. He can be serious, but Anne's description of him through Armand might be my favorite: he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe.

God forbid no one was around to witness the pain and suffering he endured from such a tragic event. affectionately

I didn't go into anything romance or shipped based on purpose so feel free to let me know it that's what you meant and I missed the mark.

[puhpandas]

I love ggy so much how did they accidentally make the most intriguing hypothetical gay romance ever

[candycandy00]

HI❤️ for your 2k follower event can you write

Character: sukuna

Setting: church

Spice: NSFW

Mood: Dark

Kink: Praise kink+breeding

🙏🙏🙏

Dancing With the Devil - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a priest. Praise. Creampie. Voyeurism. Humiliation. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k followers event! Any and all feedback is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear!

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

The priest on the other side of the wooden grate-covered window greets you in his smooth voice. “Tell me your sins.”

You know who sits only inches away from you, separated only by the thinnest of walls in the confessional. Father Sukuna is a new priest at the church, having only arrived six weeks ago. 

His appearance was quite a shock to the congregation. Pink, slicked back hair, eyes that were as red as a demon’s, and a huge muscled frame all turned heads. But most of all, it was the intricate pattern of black tattoos lining his face that had everyone talking. 

What kind of person had he been before joining the priesthood? That was the question on everyone’s mind. But one of the other priests was quick to remind everyone that Father Sukuna had turned away from a life of sin, and the Bible taught you all to “judge not”. 

So while some people still wondered and whispered about him, most people in the church accepted him without asking questions about his past. 

However, you’ve solved the mystery, entirely by accident.

The first time you saw him, you thought his tattoos were somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen them before. Then one day you visited the church to drop off some fresh lemonade for the men working on some repairs on the outside of the building. 

It was a blazing hot summer day, and as you stood chatting with one of the men, Father Sukuna peeled off his T-shirt to get some relief from the heat. Your eyes were instantly drawn to his sweat slicked body, incredibly well sculpted muscles rippling in the haze of the sun. And those tattoos. 

You recognized them at that moment, and a deep red blush spread over your face. 

Almost a year ago, a friend who knew you had a thing for tattoos sent you a video to watch online. It was a porn video featuring a handsome, well built man with black tattoos lining his whole body. His face was blurred out for some reason, but the rest of him wasn’t. You had watched it, enraptured by the way his body moved, way too many times to count. 

There was also a woman in the video, and you had grown wet watching her struggle to take the man’s impossibly huge cock, enormous even by porn star standards. When she moaned and writhed beneath him, you imagined you were her. 

You tried to find out who the man was, only so you could look for more videos featuring him, but his name remained a mystery. But by searching for terms like “male porn star black tattoos huge dick”, you found two more videos he’d done. Both also blurred his face. 

Countless nights you spent watching them, one hand in your panties, between your quivering thighs, wishing you knew what name to moan. 

You would know those tattoos anywhere, would be able to recognize that chiseled chest and back lined with black ink if you were half blind. 

The next few days, he was all you could think about. When he gave a sermon, his delicious voice carrying through the speakers and filling the church, you pictured him naked, fucking you right there in front of the entire congregation. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve never been very devout in your religion, but you still grew up fairly sheltered by your religious parents, so you never really had a “wild phase”. The “wildest” you got was sneakily watching porn after your parents went to bed. Even now, living in your own apartment, you have a pretty boring life. 

But Father Sukuna brings out every naughty fantasy you’ve ever had, right in the middle of church, of all places! So now that you’re in the confessional, inches away from him, talking about sin, you can’t hold back. 

“I’ve been watching pornographic videos online,” you confess.

“Ah, I see,” he says. “It’s hard to resist that temptation. But with God’s help, you can turn away from your lust.”

“There’s three videos in particular that I watch all the time,” you add, growing bolder. “I’ve been watching them for nearly a year, and I can’t stop.”

This time he hesitates for a moment. Is he catching on? Then he asks, “What makes these three so attractive to you?”

You lick your lips and take a breath, then press on. “It’s the man who stars in all three. He’s mesmerized me. He’s very handsome, and his body is covered in tattoos…”

This time he has to know exactly what you’re saying. You wonder if he’s embarrassed, if he’ll ask you not to tell anyone.

Instead, he’s sleek voice carries through the grate, “Do you touch yourself while you watch them?”

Your face heats up. You were not expecting that question! But after only a moment of hesitation, you reply, “Yes, Father. All the time.”

“Describe it to me.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His voice is so close, so honeyed, as he says, “Describe how you touch yourself, what you’re thinking when you do it, how it feels. Your confession needs to be thorough.”

Oh god. Can you really say stuff like that to the very man you’ve been masturbating to? But your panties are growing damp as you shift nervously in your seat. 

“I… I watch the videos in bed, on my phone… and I reach one hand down to… touch myself.”

“How? Where? Leave no details out,” he says in an authoritative tone. 

You take a deep breath, fighting back your embarrassment. Your face feels like it’s on fire. “I rub… my clit, with one finger.”

“Describe it more. Paint a picture for me,” he tells you. 

Your own voice is getting shaky. “I spread my legs open on the bed… hold the phone with one hand so I can watch the videos, and move my other hand down between my legs. I dip my fingers between the folds… to smear my wetness around… then I use one finger to rub circles into my clit.”

“And what do you think about while doing this?” Father Sukuna asks. 

Your breaths are shallow and quick. “I imagine the man with tattoos… forcing his giant cock inside me while I whimper underneath him.”

There’s a pause, then he speaks again, not a hint of surprise or struggle in his silky voice. “And do you cum?”

“Y-yes. Everytime. It feels so good, Father. I can’t stop.”

He hums as if thinking deeply, then says, “This sounds like a serious problem for you. I think you need some further counseling. Can you come back tonight and see me for a private session?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You know what he means, what he’s asking, and you’re afraid there’s going to be a sticky puddle on the seat when you get up. 

“Yes, Father Sukuna! I can come. Back, I mean. Tonight.” It all came out sounding rather breathless. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, and your fate is sealed. 

When you return to the church later that night, both terrified and excited, you find it empty. You’re not sure where Father Sukuna’s office is, or if he’s even waiting for you there, so you walk down the aisle toward the altar. Should you offer up a prayer asking for forgiveness? 

Before you can decide, you hear a loud clicking sound behind you. Turning around, you see Father Sukuna standing at the door, locking it up tight. You swallow a lump in your throat. 

He turns to face you, giving you a smile as he steps toward you. “I’ve locked all the doors. I’m the only one here tonight. We’ll be discussing private, sensitive topics, after all.”

Nothing he’s saying is inappropriate, there’s nothing threatening about his movements, but you still somehow feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web. 

“Th-thank you, Father,” you say, avoiding eye contact. This is the first time you’ve been face to face with him since your humiliating confession, and your face is already hot with shame. You can’t believe you told him how you touch yourself! You’ve kept that a secret from literally everyone, even your closest friends. 

He moves past you and sits down on a pew, his motions smooth and graceful. He’s a man who knows exactly how to move his body.  He pats the spot next to him and says, “Sit down.”

He has a way of saying things that makes you want to jump to obey every command. You walk over and sit down beside him, perhaps a little too close. You can smell his cologne. 

He turns in the seat to face you, one arm resting on the back of the pew, close enough for his fingers to touch your hair if he wants. “Now, tell me again about your sinful lust. You desire this man in the videos, the one with tattoos?”

Flustered, you look away from him, nodding your head shyly. It’s so much harder to talk about this when you can look him in the eyes! 

“And if he were here right now, what would you want him to do to you?”

You look at him sharply, eyes wide. “Huh? Uh… I don’t….”

He leans closer, red eyes boring into you. “Be honest. Confess your sinful thoughts.”

Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. “I would want him to fuck me.”

A grin breaks across his face, a gleam in those red eyes. To you, he doesn’t look like a priest now at all, but a devil sent to destroy you. 

“Such a sinful girl,” he murmurs, scooting even closer. “Is your pussy wet right now?”

You jerk away from him in shock. You’ve never heard a priest speak this way before. “No! I’m… it’s not!”

He’s staring into your eyes. “Really? Show me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“Show me your pussy. I’ll see if you’re a liar as well as lustful.”

Oh fuck. Oh god. You know you’re soaking wet. The thought of this gorgeous priest looking at your dripping pussy has you heating up with both shame and arousal.

Slowly, you pull your modest skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. Then, breathing fast, heart racing, you slide your panties down, lifting your hips from the pew to pull the silky fabric all the way down your legs. They fall off your ankles, and for a moment you sit there, blushing, not looking at Father Sukuna. 

“Open your legs so I can see how sinful you are,” he commands, again with that tone of authority. 

You carefully spread your legs apart, and Father Sukuna moves from the pew to squat in front of you, giving himself a clear and perfect view of your bare, glistening pussy. He makes a soft “tsk” sound. “You lied. Your pussy is drenched. Your sins keep growing, but I can help you.”

Finally gaining the courage to look at him despite your deep burning shame, your eyes teary, you ask, “How?”

His eyes shift to your face. “Have you heard that some parents, upon catching their child smoking a cigarette, will force them to smoke a whole pack to get them to stop?”

You nod. You have heard of that before. 

He grins. “That’s how I’m going to help you. To make you turn away from your lustful behavior, I’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy until you beg me to stop.”

You inhale sharply as he stands up and pulls his priestly robes off, revealing those beautiful tattoos covering his torso. He unbuttons his pants, and you watch with anxious, rapt attention as he pulls out the beast you’ve been waiting to finally see. 

It’s even bigger in person. 

Your mouth goes dry as you try to figure out how this is going to work. You’re inexperienced, having never had a serious boyfriend and being watched carefully by your parents until you moved out. The massive organ between Father Sukuna’s legs is intimidating, but god do you want this. You’ve thought about how he would feel inside you for almost a year now. 

While you sit there, practically frozen to the spot, he removes your shirt and bra, so that the only thing left is your wadded up skirt around your waist. Then he pushes you back in the pew so that you’re lying on your back, lifting one of your legs up and hooking it over the back of the pew while the other dangles off the front. This leaves you spread completely open for him, your shamefully wet pussy exposed to his gaze. 

Your chest is heaving with your rapid breaths as he climbs on top of you, his huge frame dwarfing yours. One of his hands squeezes your breast, his rough palm brushing over your sensitive nipple. Then he moves down, his thick, warm fingers opening your slippery folds. He circles your clit with one finger, making your hips buck slightly off the pew. 

“Is this how you touch yourself while watching my videos?” he asks. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that he’s the man in those videos, and even though you knew it already, the admission sends a thrill through your body. 

“Y-yes,” you say, your legs beginning to tremble as he teases your little nub. 

His hand slides down a bit, and then you feel one of his fingers pressing inside you. It’s big, and you feel like it’s stretching you already. 

“So tight… Are you a virgin?”

Too embarrassed to speak, you nod and look away. 

He laughs. “I can’t believe a virgin has been rubbing her little clit and cumming to my videos.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and you feel his finger curl slightly within you. “Don’t close your eyes. I’m trying to get this cute little pussy ready to take my cock.”

You open your eyes and look at him just as he pushes a second finger inside. You squeak out a strange little sound, surprised by the sudden fullness. It doesn’t hurt, but you feel a sense of pressure, and your pussy clenches his fingers. 

He lightly pumps them in and out, making an obscene squelching sound that echoes in the church. With his free hand, he rubs your clit, making you let out small gasping moans at the pleasure. You had no idea his fingers could feel so good! 

Just as you feel like you might cum any second, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You whine by reflex, looking up pleadingly as he licks his fingers clean. 

“You’re being so good for me, so I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting,” he says, pulling your hips into his lap and getting into position. “This might hurt a little, but you can take it, right?”

You look at him with big, wet eyes. “Yeah… I can take it,” you say, your voice quivering. 

He grins like a demon about to devour your soul, then you feel the tip of that rock hard monster of a cock press into your entrance. You shudder, hissing at the stretch as he keeps pushing in. Oh fuck it’s still going in! 

He moves in slowly, inch by inch, going deeper than you thought possible. When you wince, he reaches down and rubs your clit again to ease your discomfort. Soon, he’s all the way in, his firm body pressing against yours. After a moment to allow you to catch your breath, he begins moving. 

With the grace and strength of a tiger, he moves over you, thrusting in with smooth, practiced motions. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, to hit the spots that have you moaning and gripping his tattooed shoulders. 

For months you watched him fuck other women in his videos, always imagining being them. You wanted to feel what they felt as they cried out in pleasure, to know what his powerful body felt like on top of you. Now you finally know, and you’ll never be able to give this up. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as he leans down closer, kissing your lips. He tastes like sin itself, and you wonder if he’s dragging you straight to hell. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. 

His thrusts go deeper, harder, until you’re crying out his name, tears in your eyes, desperate for release. Three more thrusts later, each one hitting hyper sensitive spots, and you’re cumming around his cock, clenching him as tightly as you can. 

You look up at him through the haze of pleasure, and he’s wearing that devilish grin. “Good girl,” he says. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t even form words, only nodding weakly while his cock is still buried inside you. When he begins thrusting again, it’s faster, rougher, until he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back. Before you can say a word, he cums directly into your womb in thick spurts. 

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you’re reminded of similar shots from his videos. You drop your head back on the pew, exhausted. 

He’s hovering over you, looking down with a disappointed expression. “Don’t fall asleep now. We have all night. I intend to fuck all the sinful thoughts right out of you.”

You raise up in alarm. “Wait… I don’t think I can handle any more!”

He’s already pushing your legs apart again. “You can handle it. If you’ve watched my videos then you know how much stamina I have. Try and keep up.”

You groan, realizing this is going to be a very long night. 

[kazumiku]

Of Pride and Prejudice

p.logue ↬ the grand escape ( 1,147 words )

"i can't leave. not right now, not like this, please—"

begged a desperate tone, a voice that rumbles from your throat. its choked, you're hanging on by a string, snapped by a slap that resonates through the large hall of your home. it was silence for a while, where three figures stood unmoving, the thick tension wrapping around your necks as the clock stopped, if only for a moment.

then it broke. "that is enough," your mother was sick of negotiating, her hand raised after striking your head the other way. the sting settled into your cheek, wallowing you in your own hopelessness as a masculine voice speaks up. "we understand where your worry stems, albeit this is not the suitable time for arguing." he reasons.

it was true. the sand in your hourglass was diminishing rapidly, and with the people raging at the front of your gates, it was only a matter of the clock striking two before they barge in like animals on a raid hunt. there was a bounty over your family, mysteriously so, and your parents will have to keep whatever left is little to save. and that includes you and your siblings.

it was an endless discussion, day and night, an ongoing debate that draws to a stop today. today is the day you and your siblings have to flee, after all, for your own safety if not theirs. your parents lived a long life, they only wish for their children to thrive one way someway, somehow, once the heat dies down. "we promise to look for you once its all settled, honey. you must understand where we're coming from. we worry for the three of you the most."

your mother's words were enough to pry tears at the corners of your lids. leaving them behind was the last thing you wished, and they knew that well. but they love you much too dearly to let the empire tumble down on your shoulders instead. this problem is not yours to shoulder but theirs, and they'll solve it on their own as the current rulers of the state.

if they fail to protect the kingdom, then so be it. their priorities were straight, and there would be no use in trying to prod at their resolve in your favor now. if you were easily settled on a stone-hard conclusion when your heart sets for it, you can only imagine how far more your parents are in that matter.

"everything is packed. aether and lumine are already settled within the carriage. you shall head through the back on your way out." they inform you, your father reaching out to grasp your shoulder. it shattered your heart to teensy shards by how gentle his contact is on your arm, holding you like fragile glass. and you were, at this moment, under their contemplative gazes. "if this does not work out for us, then you shall make this our last command, as the eldest and the inheritor of my crown; look out for each other. stay out of trouble's way. and, especially stay out of the public eye." commanded in your father's deep voice, full of mourn.

"don't worry, for you are not alone. we have assigned you a guard. he'll write us a letter if you ever so wish, but, for now, let's focus on you and your siblings' safety, will that be understood?" your mother explained. and as much as you wish to shake your head in defiance, you bobbed your chin meekly, a wallowing sniffle resonating at the back of your throat as you ducked your head. "in six moon cycles, if we don't reach by that, then you must forgive us. please live your life."

the floor reflected your doubt clearly, but you're not left with any more choices when you're ushered out the hall hurriedly. you couldn't even hug your parents goodbye, nor give them at least the littlest of waves of farewell when you're pushed into the back by a panicking maid. during the conversation with your parents, you hadn't realized the booming voice that comes from the opposite exit from where you are, the outside of your front gates flooding with protest and people overflowing with rage.

"stay safe," the helper whispered before you could look back, the door slammed in front of your face, leaving you out in the back of the garden. the wind was dormant as you walked through the unmoving grass, the evening was quiet save for the screams of profanities stemming from the front, which were eventually muddled by the distance as you stray further into the grassy pathway, on your way to an obscured exit behind the foliage.

you push the hidden door open and the sight of an outdated carriage meets you. it looks worn, but not too shabby, two horses at the forepart ushered down by the coachman as it noises at your appearance. your arm is suddenly grasped in a firm grip, and your left to almost stumble on your ankles when another palm landed on the small of your back too. "careful. you almost stepped on a puddle, majesty," ah. you recognized that voice. the captain of the royal guards. "your parents assigned me. don't fret."

"ah, no, i was just a little startled. apologies," you breathed, and he nods in acceptance of your excuse, assisting you up into the carriage. aether was already asleep on lumine's shoulder as you settled inside from the opposite side. the assigned guard situates out beside the coachman, and with a flick of the leather halter, the horses pump their hooves on the ground.

the sound of rocks under the running wheels filled your ears as the long road goes, and your heart settles emptily in your chest. your body feels null, naturally. a moment of reprieve, you tried, but there was nothing to be relieved of when you're flooded with worry. lumine from across you could tell as she called for your name quietly. "hey, don't worry. it'll be alright, okay?" her mellow tune lifted your spirits as she outstretched her hand. "come here, let's cuddle. you can fall asleep on my other shoulder too if you feel like it, i'm just going to watch a stream my phone.

"this carriage is so slow, i hope nobody catches us lacking like this. god, the things i'd do to ride on the rb19 instead," she jokes as you take her hands and move seats. "it's too bad you can't sponsor this season," lumine couldn't help but sigh dejectedly, and your thumb strokes her knuckles in comfort. "i'm sorry, i feel bad. i couldn't change their minds. i really, really tried."

"no, no, it's fine. don't say sorry, you didn't do anything wrong. they're only doing this for our safety, and that's what you should think of."

that's right. there's no need to worry.

taglist; @zoropookie @sketcheeee @skyoverkill1 @liuaneee @aruatsu

@luvvxsn @kinvasions @trulyylee @scarawiki @eutopiastar

@yunyunjajangman @auroratumbles @heusalettle @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @candyescapism

@justpeachyteastea

m.list ; 01 → tweaking bad

a/n; yippee i finally got this shit out (im so sorry if its disappointing i gave up after losing my drafts twice cry)

[accio-victuuri]

Xiao Zhan Marie Claire Cover story | Rules & Inches

When I say the word "future",

The first syllable is in the past.

When I say the word "silence",

I've broken it.

When I say the word "nothing",

I have created something that nothingness itself can grasp.

——Vislava Szymborska, "The Three Strangest Words"

Xiao Zhan held up a handheld fan to dry the sweat from the filming. When the photographer signaled the start, he stepped forward, stepped back, walked again, and continued to retreat. The props on his back are like airplanes, and his eyes are constantly searching for the camera, and he is like a naughty child exploring an unknown world. Every time I go back and forth, I am thinking about the more refined possibilities between advancement and retreat.

It’s hard not to notice Xiao Zhan’s sense of proportion. When being interviewed, he has a catchphrase: "Can you say this?" Or, as if to confirm himself, "You can say it like this." He also reflects on himself all the time. For example, I repeatedly remind myself not to let my performance become inertia. Once I get used to it, it will develop into terrible inertia. For example, he often emphasizes that he doesn't like to make mysteries, and he may not understand many truths. What he shares is only his sincere daily feelings. For another example, when he heard a crew member commenting on his "striving for excellence", he responded that he had not yet reached "refinement" and only wanted to "benefit".

Xiao Zhan spoke slowly and eloquently. He did not have a thunderous and fiery personality. He chatted calmly and had the ancient style of a benevolent gentleman. He's not tight at all. They chatted all over the world, and when they got to the point where they were enjoying themselves, they naturally leaned back on the chair and gently held their right legs with both hands. The content of the chat ranged from the unchanging emotions contained in the golden songs of the times to AI, the views on human beings, as well as his own performances and life experiences.

In 2023, three TV series starring Xiao Zhan will be broadcast one after another. He played the colorful father, the lonely and cold eldest son, and the newcomer who struggled in the workplace. Every time he enters a crew, he will dream about real scenes and real pressure related to filming. After the dream is over, he sinks himself into the heart of the character and performs it, leaving vivid memories and feelings.

There is a ruler in the heart and a square inch outside the body. What's appropriate is Xiao Zhan's inner view, his precise view of work, life and himself. A few inches away is Xiao Zhan's external perspective, his perceptual understanding of the past, time, space and the world. Between the length and the shortness of a ruler, heaven and earth appear.

======

Three TV series have been aired and new dramas are being filmed. For actor Xiao Zhan, 2023 is a fruitful year.

Occasionally, when he looks back on his career as an actor, Xiao Zhan will be in a daze for a moment. In the blink of an eye, it seems that he has been there for a long time. Almost every time he shoots a movie, he has a routine: dreaming. I dreamed about memorizing lines, dreaming about acting against a director, or even dreaming about taking a math test, but couldn’t solve any of the questions on the paper, and then I woke up with a start.

Xiao Zhan felt that this was caused by pressure, and he accepted it calmly. Perhaps there is another reason. Deep down in his heart, he does not regard himself as a qualified actor, but always puts himself in the position of a newcomer, with an attitude of learning and exploration. Therefore, every time he goes to a crew, he has the experience of starting all over again.

Xiao Zhan is very wary of inertia. Sometimes he also advises himself not to be under so much pressure, not to get into trouble, and to try to be more relaxed. But once he realizes that he starts to rely on performance models, experiences and habits, he will remind himself that taking things for granted is dangerous. After a long time of inertia, inertia will occur, and inertia will lead to "taken for granted". Therefore, every time he interprets a role, he always has to gain some freshness.

Xiao Chunsheng in "Where Dreams Begin" is a character full of freshness. Because there are extremely obvious differences between him and Xiao Zhan himself. Xiao Chunsheng is a young man in Beijing in the 1970s, which is completely different from the era and environment in which Xiao Zhan grew up.

Military coats, "28 big bar" bicycles, the ice surface of Shichahai, and the transformation from a young boy to a middle-aged entrepreneur are not familiar to Xiao Zhan. To this day, Xiao Zhan can still see "traces" of Xiao Chunsheng: when it comes to the character Chen Hongjun in the play, he always says "Hong Jun'er". Those were the Beijing movies and Er Huayin that I practiced when filming started. "Ouch" and "Ouch" were all words on Xiao Zhan's lips.

The language, objects and sense of time are all okay. For Xiao Zhan, the biggest difference from Xiao Chunsheng is his personality. He is an "I person" who enjoys being alone, while Xiao Chunsheng is the complete opposite. He makes many friends and loves to socialize too much. Measured by today's standards, this extreme warm-heartedness often means a lack of a sense of boundaries. "The times are developing faster and faster. Today's young people are living a fast-paced life and will not easily cross the boundaries of getting along." Xiao Zhan commented, "But Xiao Chunsheng is an extremely meddlesome person, so it is easy to offend Someone else." When he read the script, he was quite intimidated by this role and felt that it would be difficult to act like it. But after hesitating for a long time, a thought suddenly caught his attention: Maybe the qualities we care about today contain exactly what we need.

Fresh, this is Xiao Zhan’s summary of Xiao Chunsheng and his contemporaries. "If you hate them, you hate them. If you like them, you like them. Don't you think the colors of each of them are particularly bright?" he asked. Even now, when thinking back to some scenes in "The Sea in Dreams", he still feels that the characters are shining brightly and vividly.

After playing Xiao Chunsheng, a person who is far away from current values, Xiao Zhan also gained something in terms of mentality: don't be afraid of making mistakes. He said: "A truly lovable character will have imperfections." During the filming, he once asked the director if it was particularly annoying for Xiao Chunsheng to worry so much about others. The director told him that it was precisely because of this "annoyance" that he was Xiao Chunsheng, and "annoyance" was his charm.

The director's words suddenly awakened Xiao Zhan. Sometimes he would fall into a strange circle, hoping to avoid and correct the imperfections of the character. "When you change it like this, the character itself loses its charm." Xiao Zhan said, "So I think you should not be afraid when doing homework for the character. Be enthusiastic when you should be enthusiastic, and cross the boundary when you should. If you always consider the character's The shortcoming is, thinking about what will happen if the audience scolds me, it will be difficult to act." Because actors play roles, not personalities.

Not being afraid of flaws, to some extent, also means the courage and ability to seek truth. "Sunshine by my Side" is Xiao Zhan's first appearance in an urban workplace drama. His reason for taking on this drama is simple: modern dramas are too close to reality and everyone is living it, so it is difficult to perform it to make everyone believe it. Because he was unsure and confident, he firmly believed that he would learn something after "gnawing" it down. Thus, the character Sheng Yang came into being.

"Sunshine by my Side" made Xiao Zhan realize that urban dramas rely heavily on the cooperation between actors. Because it is more life-like, every point will not be stuck, and the lines and performances will be slightly adjusted. "We are all living people, and we do not exist to maintain a persona. What everyone does, says, and expresses emotions are natural, reasonable, and flowing. If you change, my performance will also change. It will change accordingly." Xiao Zhan said that this kind of creative coupling eliminates the possibility of actors being rigid and mechanical, so it is a fresh and fun experience.

Sheng Yang is a designer, which happens to be the job that Xiao Zhan has done. With personal experience, flexibility during performance can be guaranteed. "When Shengyang wanted to draw the design drawings, I would actually draw them there. Sometimes I would tell them, art teacher, your layers seem to be locked and I can't move." Xiao Zhan recalled, " Because it's his own life, he's better at it. Can you say that? Okay." He never forgets his sense of proportion when it comes to his true feelings.

Xiao Zhan is no stranger to TV series with fantasy themes. "Yuguyao" is the most recent example. For him, acting in a play with such an imaginary background requires a process of starting from scratch. Facing a green screen, if you want to imagine extreme weather or breathtaking scenery, you need to create it yourself. As for whether the state is real and whether the emotion is subtle, more often than not, one has to trust the evaluation made by the director behind the monitor.

Whether it is a costume drama or a modern drama, Xiao Zhan always has a clear understanding of the script and characters. "There are always few good things at any time, which is why people always say that they are rare." He recalled his observations over the years, "Some scripts may be considered good by the industry, but the market feedback may not be so good. Everyone What is the definition of good? Is it good sales or good word-of-mouth? It's hard to judge." Therefore, what he can do now is to return to his own understanding and feelings and choose what he thinks is the best. Role. As for what role he most wants to play, Xiao Zhan said: "I have been mentioning it for many years, a cute and charming villain, if I get the chance."

=======

When reading the script of "Where Dreams Begin", Xiao Zhan's mind would be filled with photos of his parents when they were young.

Dad is riding a bicycle, and mom is sitting in the back seat, wearing a red skirt and a white shirt. When passing a big rock, my father took a photo of my mother as a souvenir. She smiles brightly in the camera, looking like a bright girl. When it was his turn to play the role of his parents in their youth, he tried his best to restore the freshness and even madness of youth. He did not want to deliberately portray the story in a rigid and serious direction just because it was a story about his father's generation.

Xiao Zhan seems to have a special sense of time. He is nostalgic. Whether singing in variety shows and evening parties, or listening to them in private, he always has a preference for old songs. They are memorable, rich in meaning, and give him space to think.

When he was a child, he didn't have much pocket money, so Xiao Zhan would go to the video store to rent CDs, or exchange CDs and tapes with his classmates. The prices can still be clearly remembered to this day. To this day, he still has the CD player and Walkman he used back then in his home. Sometimes, he returns to wired headphones because they are convenient and easy to find. In the dead of night, he would occasionally think of objects that were gradually disappearing in the torrent of time. Being alone, with his heart flowing, is his comfortable state.

Xiao Zhan said that he is a very homely person and has to stay at home. During his spare time, he just works out and watches movies. He never regards watching movies as a task. He watches everything regardless of genre, whether it is popular movies such as popcorn movies or niche movies such as art films. Recently, he watched "The Fall", the best film at the 2023 Cannes International Film Festival.

Around New Year, he often revisits "Love Actually" and watches it again every two or three years. The reason is also very straightforward. The family, love, and friendship in the movie all convey truth, goodness and beauty, which makes people feel heart-warming when watching them.

"Don't you think that the emotions between people have never changed? Old movies will always be read and watched, and old songs will always be listened to over and over again, because the emotions sung by truly classic works remain unchanged through the ages. Only sincerity can move people." Xiao Zhan seemed to have a sudden inspiration and compared it with AI, "I think AI cannot replace humans. Maybe its technology can one day surpass the limits of humans, but that kind of complex emotions , humans far surpass computers. It can be said that humans are the most accurate, mysterious, and complex supercomputers."

Xiao Zhan will pay attention to AI, just like he pays attention to all new things in the world that are deeply related to people. He watched the news and read things written by AI. The depth of thought and logic of thinking made him incredible. Perhaps, in some job competitions, the threat of AI to human beings is already close at hand, but he still firmly believes that AI cannot replace face-to-face communication between people, whether it is immediacy or complexity.

When these distant concerns about new things are temporarily put aside, Xiao Zhan also has his own expectations for the world.

When filming "Ace Troops" a few years ago, in order to play a soldier who was concerned with the national image, Xiao Zhan observed and trained in the army for more than a week. He got up at five or six in the morning every day and ate and lived with the soldiers. After performing this play, he felt the cruelty of war and understood the hard-won peace. "I cherish my current life more. This is the truth." Xiao Zhan said. Therefore, the current vision of world peace may also be related to infinite distances and countless people.

As for his expectations for himself, he outlined it more simply: "I have done very well in 2023, and I hope I can maintain it." After thinking for a while, he added: "In 2024, I hope to love myself more and care more. Some of my own feelings and thoughts. This sentence is not only for myself, but also for everyone."

In Xiao Zhan's mind, he is different on screen and in real life. In private, he will not modify himself too much, nor will he dress too brightly. He just wants to be natural and true to himself.

"Just like the current chat, just keep it in this comfortable state. I won't change my face and play another person." Xiao Zhan said, "It's too tiring. Too tiring." He repeated twice all over.

A poet wrote, "My heart is slightly larger than the entire universe." Outside Xiao Zhan's small space, there is the restraint of "strategy" and the vastness of "universe".

LINK TO THE ARTICLE

[yourthoughtsjim]

Spin the Bottle

Jughead Jones x reader, afab/femme

Warnings: daddy kink, praise, slight overstimulation, fingering

Word count: 2.9K+

It had been seven years since you last saw the town of Riverdale. Seven long years of rebuilding yourself after the horrors that you experienced during your residency. 

Pulling into the familiar light yellow house that was the Andrews’ residence, your heart pounded. Things between you, and the group of people you had once considered your friends, went in a not-so-savory direction. 

Last time you saw them, you got caught cheating on Jughead with Sweet Pea. You had no intentions of doing anything with Sweet Pea except to go undercover in the Ghoulies, but something in you snapped when you saw him in the pale moonlight. 

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock on the door. You start to fidget and look around nervously. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open. On the other side, you see Archie Andrews, who didn’t look much different from when you saw him in high school.

He gives you a polite smile and escorts you inside. That’s where you’re led to the dining room. That same dining room where you and the rest of the gang came up with plans to stop Hiram or The Farm.

Memories flood your mind of the countless times where the five of you would sit around the table after Mary had made a delicious meal whenever she was in town. It was almost surreal being back here, and not just in Archie’s house but in Riverdale as a whole. 

As soon as you walked in, you got Jughead’s attention first. His face went from one of a smile to one of sorrow. He remembered what you did to not only him, but his fellow Serpent. All of that pain resurfaced. 

The rest gave you sympathy smiles as they went on about their own conversations. You sit awkwardly across from Jughead. 

Finally, after the talking has died down a bit, you look at the beanie wearing comic book writer. “So, why was I called back? I thought you hated my guts.”

“Oh, y/n, I never truly hated you. Was I a little hurt? Absolutely, but you ran off before I could get a chance to tell you that.” He responds.

“I… oh.” Your voice drops to a whisper.

“Yeah…”

“What about Sweet Pea? I really honestly cared for him. I don’t know why I hurt him the way I did.” 

“He was beat up about it for a while but eventually, he learned to forgive you, just like you should forgive yourself. We were in high school. We all did and said some stupid things.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Betty then reenters the room. “So, the reason I had asked everyone is… yes everyone…” She pauses looking at you. “There’s something brewing here. I don’t know what it is but we need to find out. I do, however, have an inkling on who’s behind it.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “My father. Of course it is. You know, he can never have enough. He’s so selfish and narcissistic. I should’ve put a hit on him a long time ago. Maybe that’s what I’ll do. I am tired of him thinking he can get anything just because of his name.” Sighs are shared between all of you. 

“Okay, how are we going to find out more info? I want him out of my town.” Cheryl more or less demands it. 

“That’s what we have to figure out but for right now, we need to lay low. We can’t let Hiram know we’re planning something.” Archie says.

“That’s fair.” You respond.

“So, what do we do in the meantime?” Betty inquires.

Cheryl’s eyes lit up, “We all go to Thornhill and relive the glory days of our youth with a rousing game of spin the bottle, mayhaps?” 

There was a look shared between the group before your gaze landed on Jughead. To which you give a small smile. 

Later that evening, after a nice meal at Pop’s, you arrive at the mansion known as the Blossom residence. The smell of maple syrup filling your nose as you exit Archie’s hot rod. 

The sweet aroma had you feeling nostalgic for the old times. Where you would help them solve the mystery behind Jingle Jangle or Fizzle Rocks. You remember the times you spent at this very house just so Cheryl wouldn’t be alone with her family, much to her mother’s displeasure. 

“Well, hello, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we will be having a spectacular evening filled with stories from when we were young. Now, please, follow me.” Cheryl instructs you all to the gathering room. 

There, candles are laid out precisely around the room, as is the Cheryl Marjorie Blossom way. On the floor was a large round red carpet. The same red the HBIC herself always wore on her lips.

Gesturing, she implores you all to take a seat. You sit across from Jughead and in between Cheryl and Betty. In the center was a glass bottle. 

“We will be pulling names out of a hat to determine the order.” Cheryl announces.

She holds the hat out in front of her and with a slow turn of her hand, she pulls out the first card. Dramatically, she turns it around before quickly reading it. “Kevin Keller!” She proudly shouts.

The son of the local sheriff leans forward and gives the bottle a whirl. He looks at the rest of the gang nervously as the bottle comes to a slow stop, pointing at Reggie. “Come on, Mantle, show me what you got.” Kevin states. The kiss was a decent one. Not too long and not too short. 

Of course, you were the last one chosen. You had already received kisses from Veronica, Betty and even Cheryl. Cheryl’s having the most passion behind it, naturally. 

Your hand was shaky as it landed on the bottle. Your heart raced as you spun it. You had hoped it wouldn’t land on anyone you didn’t really care for. 

Eyes widening, you see who it came to a halt on. Your ex, Jughead Jones. A chorus of “Ohh’s” roared around you. Your vision tunneled a bit, focusing on just him.

You timidly scooch closer to him. He had a smirk on his face. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re just as pretty as I remember you being.” He comments. 

A blush crosses your face. “Jug…” You playfully smack him. 

You feel his hand on the back of your neck before he pulls you into the kiss. It felt as if the rest of the world melted away and it was just the two of you. A heat formed where it hadn’t in quite some time. 

Betty and Veronica had to practically rip you two apart before you got too into it. You wipe your mouth of the saliva that had gathered there. By the time you regain your composure, you realize just how heavy you were breathing.

“Talk about a blaze of glory. It seems like an old flame just got rekindled.” Cheryl remarks to Archie. 

Some of you had planned on staying at Thornhill that night. It was mainly the core four and then you. You make your way to your room for the night. The rooms you were to stay in had been randomly, or as you would come to find out not-so-randomly, picked by the bombshell herself. 

It was then you turn the knob. Entering you see your belongings on the bed to the right as you look to the left, you notice a familiar looking duffle bag. After looking at it for a few more moments, it clicks as belonging to Jughead. 

“Damn it, Cheryl.” You mutter under your breath. 

“Why are we damning a Blossom family member? I’m not opposed, I would just like the reason.” You jump at hearing Jughead’s voice. 

“O-Oh, it’s nothing.”

Jughead knew otherwise, however. “You know you can’t lie to me. You’ve never been able to.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are. I’m the only one who can see through that innocent exterior you shell yourself with. Now, tell me, what is it?” His voice was soft but stern.

“It’s… Cheryl knew what she was doing when she put you and I in the same room together.” You respond. You then sit on your bed awaiting for Jughead’s next statement. 

A soft chuckle came from him, “Maybe, but that doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about that kiss, shall we?” The question was spoken in a teasing tone. 

Your body temperature rose as each of his hands found the bed right next to your thighs. Your heart pounded in your ears as you went a tad lightheaded. You accidentally giggled when he lowered his head to yours so you were eye to eye. 

The Serpent King looked at your plush thigh before sliding his hand over it. He doesn’t do much, just rests there. He remembered how you like to be teased. It got you off almost as much as the sex itself. 

“It was almost as if you were desperate to kiss me. I could feel the pout in your lips against mine. So cute. Your desperation, that is. I also noticed the little whimpers you were letting out. Yeah, those ones. The ones you thought nobody could hear, but I remembered just how to pick those up even in the loudest of rooms.” He states as he gets closer to your ear.

His hand had reached up higher by the time he was done talking. It was sitting dangerously close to your clothed heat. A heat that was surely escaping. After all, you had decided to wear a skirt tonight. 

“Come on, remember how it felt for me to reach my hand in these, always soaked, panties.”

Your breath hitched as you felt his touch on your clit once again. “It’s pulsing against my fingers, just like it did before. Tell me, y/n, have you been with anyone else after me?” He inquires.

“Mhm, I h-have, a few actually.” You stutter out.

“Have they made you feel as good as I did?” His fingers were now circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“N-No, they… You were the only one to truly satisfy me.”

“That’s what I thought.” The circles got faster, but only slightly.

Your legs had spread, unbeknownst to you. Your brows furrowed as you looked at your former lover in the eyes as he touched you like he once did. You tried to keep your wits about you. He was your ex, you really shouldn’t be doing this but at the same time, couples don’t stay apart forever in Riverdale.

“You’re so wet, princess. You must have gotten worked up earlier, or was this more… recent?” 

“B-Both.”

“So you’ve been sitting around in wet panties this entire time? Dirty girl.” He teases.

“Y-Yes.”

“Poor little serpent. Sat there so wet and sticky. You could’ve just come to me immediately.”

Serpent… that was a nickname he loved to use on you during your time as the Serpent Queen. It always made you feel special when he used it. Like you were his prized possession.

Jughead never let up pressure once. He knew how you like to be touched and that’s what he was going to do. 

The pleasure got to be too much and your mind snapped. “Daddy… I missed you.” You whine.

“Oh, you remembered my title. Good girl. Daddy missed his little princess too.” His voice is a touch raspy. 

That’s when he inserts two fingers in your cunt. You fit around them like a glove. Almost as if your cunt was made to take his fingers. As a writer, his fingers were quite nimble. He knew which spots to hit and how much pressure to give.

Your hips rolled into his hand, grinding your clit against the palm of his hand. “Desperate little bunny. Humping my hand like that. God, you’re so fucking hot when you get like this.”

“I just want my Daddy to make me feel good.”

“Of course, you do. That’s all you ever wanted. I bet you thought about me over the years when you were touching yourself or even when you were with other guys, huh?” He teases. 

You would be lying if you told him no. You thought about all the random hookups where you would accidentally moan out Jughead’s name or late at night, when your wand was on your clit and you were pressing down so hard while you grinded into it. You also remember how when you would hump your pillow, you sobbed wishing it was him.

“I did, Daddy. I thought about you so much. I just wanted to be your little girl again. I’m sorry I h-hurt you.” 

“I forgive you. Now, why don’t you show me that pretty face you make when you cum?” 

Your mouth hangs open slightly and you squeeze your thighs around his hand. “There it is. So gorgeous. Just like I remembered it.”

He slowed to a stop as your orgasm finished. It was intense. It almost left you gasping for air. You had forgotten just how good he could make you feel with just his fingers. 

“Did you know we were going to get back together tonight, or did you wear this pretty little skirt just because?” Jughead keeps teasing you.

“I-I… please. I’m sorry, I just want you back.” You plead with tears in your eyes. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Daddy forgives you. Now, just lay back and spread those pretty legs for me.” He gently commands. It was like you two had never broken up with how easy it was to remove each other’s clothing, save for your skirt and of course, his Serpent jacket he always liked to fuck you in. 

Legs spreading easily apart so that Jughead can take his rightful place in between them. Your eyes get blown wide open when you see him above you at long last, after all these years. Thinking back, you recall those nights when you had your vibe on your clit, pretending it was him controlling it.

Just like before, he slid every inch of his thick cock inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. Again, he fit inside you like a glove. Your insides curved perfectly with his cock, which made it easier for him to hit your g-spot every time. 

“I missed this sweet cunt, baby girl.” He growls. 

“I missed your cock, Daddy.” You whimpered. 

A quick passionate kiss was shared. Jughead also loved the way you moaned into his mouth. He drank up each and every one of them.

“That’s it, good girl. Fits around me so well, just like a good serpent should.” There he goes with that nickname again. You could cum right then and there but you held on. You held on until you wanted to drench the writer in your juices. 

Your mind flashes back to a nickname he liked to be called. “H-Hellcaster!” You scream out. 

He almost stops dead in his tracks but instead, he speeds up, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The name really got to him, made him feel powerful. 

“Call me that again.” The command comes out in a growl.

“Hellcaster! Fuck!”

A wicked grin appeared on his face. “That’s right.”

His thumb made its way to your clit and rubbed roughly, sending your legs spasming. You were so close it was bordering on painful.

“D-Daddy! Please, gonna cum.” 

“Cum all over my cock like a good girl.” He grabs you by the back of the neck and forces you to lock eyes with him.

Your vision blurred slightly when your orgasm rushed over you. You stayed true to your word and coated him in your squirt. Jughead followed suit not too long after you. “Shit!” He growled when his warm cum spurted into your swollen cunt.

“Messy, messy girl. Just how Daddy likes it.” He comments. 

The next several moments were spent on the two of you coming down from your highs. He even gave your body some small massages. 

Getting dressed in your pjs, you decide to head to the kitchen to get some water. As you open the door, your face drops when you see Betty, Archie, Veronica and even Cheryl standing there.

“U-Uh, how long have you been there?” 

“I can’t believe Jug likes to be called Hellcaster in bed.” Veronica states. Shit, a while then. They all heard you call him Daddy. This takes the cake for the most embarrassing moment of your life. 

“I do wonder what it’d be like for this pretty one to moan out Mommy.” She follows up. That sent a heat down to your already throbbing core. 

“We’ll have to find out one day, now won’t we?” Jughead comes up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist. 

“If you two are done, we would like to go to bed peacefully.” Cheryl almost demands.

“I don’t know, it has been a while since I’ve gotten to fuck her tight cunt, I might have to do it again.” Jughead teases. 

The red head rolls her eyes. “Goodnight.” Was the last thing she said before practically storming off. One by one the rest followed.

“So about that water?” Jughead lightens the mood.

“Yeah, yeah, come on… Hellcaster.” You purr in his ear.

“Keep it up and I’ll fuck you over the kitchen counter.”

“I’m counting on it.” You end with a wink.

[brewstersbru]

A little riz ficlet i started last week and finished today (pok feels 💚)

Your name is Riz.

Riz knows Kristen didn’t mean it, knows she was just being funny, trying to ease his nerves before his first big game on the Owlbears. But he can’t stop hearing his mother’s voice in his head, digging, nudging him to buck up and fight against it.

He regrets snapping at her, but not as much as he should, probably. He’s not certain he would’ve even said anything if his mom hadn’t had that conversation with him.

And now Kristen’s getting expelled, but not really, and instead they have to go through a harrowing trial of standardized testing coupled with fighting monsters where it only ends if all of them die or they kill all the monsters.

No one has ever killed all the monsters before, and Riz isn’t arrogant enough to actually believe they’ll be the first. Not with the weight of Junior year on their shoulders. It’ll be nice to see his dad again, outside of the tiny little hologram on his watch, or when he talks to the air around his grave- never knowing for sure but believing that he’s there, listening.

But dying hurts. Riz still gets nightmares about that first time he did it, and it doesn’t help that the video of it happening is still up for everyone to see. The views keep climbing, no matter how time marches on people still search it up. It makes him a little nauseous to think about.  

There’s a lot on Riz’s mind tonight- not that there hasn’t always been- but for some reason he can’t tune it out right now, can’t push it down with work or school or trying to solve a mystery. His mind is just running, turning over and over itself, churning through the complicated web of problems he’s found himself caught in.

There’s just so much that needs fixing, that needs to be worked on and chipped away at and he can’t do anything about it. Just has to stare at the ceiling of the living room in Mordrid Manor, trying to will himself to sleep while his friends snore beside him. Well- Adiane isn’t really sleeping, but after finally dropping the mental weight of her finances, she’s been falling deeper into her trances to regain her energy.

It feels almost like his heart is about to jump right out of his chest, like it’s squirming around, trying to wedge itself up his throat and out of his mouth. Riz would never tell anyone this but he’s terrified that he’s still that same futile little thing he was in the palimpsest. Scratching at thick walls until his hands bleed, littered with shards of the effort, but in that righteous violence, ultimately having done nothing of real use.

How many times does he have to bleed for it to mean something? How many times does he have to die before his friends can stay with him? Before people and gods and monsters stop trying to pry them away from his bloody, clenched fingers. He worked for this, he dug deep and rent himself in six equal pieces for the hope of staying together. How much more could the universe possibly expect from him? When is it enough?

There’s a soft beep from his wristwatch- which, unlike all of his other gadgets, he never takes off, not even when sleeping- and Riz takes the opportunity to get away from staring at the same crack in the ceiling he’s been looking at for the past hour. He stands and picks his way through a maze of limbs and drool to the kitchen.

With some semblance of privacy, he checks the watch. What could his dad- Agent Gukgak- need from him at this time of night? Does time work the same way up there? Is he ok? Is it possible for him not to be?

A small hologram of his father appears above the watch, disheveled, as if he just got back to the office. As soon as he appears, he steps back for a moment and quickly catalogues his son’s state. After about a minute, he heaves a deep sigh.

“You’re ok.” It’s not a question. Riz nods, slowly.

“I am, sure. But what about you, Agent Gukgak- sir? What’s wrong? Why’d you call?”  He tries to keep his voice quiet, and moves towards the front door, hoping to get outside so he and Agent Gukgak can have a serious business conversation without him sounding like a teenager at a sleepover. He is a teenager at a sleepover, but that’s beside the point.

Agent Gukgak tilts his head at him. “Kiddo, I didn’t call for me, I called for you. Your heartbeat spiked about a half hour ago and hasn’t returned to baseline since. I called as soon as I could get back.”

Riz, having just made it outside- the door creaked just slightly, but he’s not worried about any of the others having heard; they sleep like logs- stumbles a bit as he tries to settle himself on the porch steps.

It’s late, so he can be forgiven for lacking his usual tact as he stutters, “Wha- huh? This thing can track my heartbeat?” Like that was the most important part of what Agent Gukgak had said.

Agent Gukgak smiles at him, wry. “Course it can, and your blood sugar, iron levels, as well as body temperature. You should talk to your mom about iron pills, actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I know you haven’t been to the doctor for a while, but we’ve been detecting low iron in your blood for a while. And don’t even get me started on your eating habits, you’re just like your mother, waiting until you’re near ready to faint to give your body anything substantial.” His tone starts warm, but quickly devolves into something more scolding. Riz allows the conversation to derail a little bit.

“It’s not that I do it consciously, I just forget. There’s a lot of work to do and it’s hard to schedule out non-school-mandated mealtimes for myself. I’ll make a note about the iron though.” Riz thinks they’re both overtly aware of the fact that he doesn’t move to jot anything down. Iron pills have got to be expensive, and if he’s made it this far without, he doesn’t see a reason to ask for them now. Agent Gukgak sighs.

“Riz- it’s- I-“ He pauses, takes a second to collect himself. “I often find myself wishing, when we talk, that I was able to come down there and live with you and your mother. At least until we sent you off to college.” There’s a wistfulness to his gaze that Riz can’t find it within himself to watch, he knows what’s at the end of this train of thought and it’s never pretty. ‘What ifs’ and ‘could have beens’ are only as good as a wish, because they’re never rooted in reality. Always washed with rose and drowned in nostalgia.

Riz cuts in, “You’ve been doing good work where you can. And- and I think I turned out pretty okay. All things considered.” It feels a little strange to be defending his father to himself, but Agent Gukgak just shakes his head.

“More than ‘pretty okay’, kiddo. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done, not just in your work, but in who you are. I see the way you care for your friends, the way you help your mother, the way you meet every problem head on with a plan and a backup plan, just in case. I just wish the world had been kinder. Wish I coulda been there to make it be, when it couldn’t get there on its own.”

And then, for some, mortifying reason, Riz bursts into tears. It’s not loud or messy or even really all that different than what he usually looks like. At a distance, you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell. But there are tears streaming steadily down his face and every so often he has to sniff and blink his eyes to catch up with the stream. He swipes an arm roughly across his eyes to try and stem the flow, or better, stop it completely.

“I’m sorry, Agent-“

“Dad. Just call me dad kiddo. Please. Or Pok, just- not ‘Agent Gukgak’.” Pok’s own expression has crumpled, brows furrowing at the sight of his son so obviously distraught with no way to physically comfort him.

Riz nods, “Sorry, dad, I don’t-“ He sniffs, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s just Kristen’s being expelled unless we do this last stand thing tomorrow where we’re probably gonna die at the end, and I saw my name in Kipperlilly’s file but I haven’t had time to figure out why it’s there, and Fig skipped class again, which, I know isn’t going to fail her probably but it makes me nervous because what if she starts skipping every day again? Also our vice principal might be crazy and evil and I haven’t had any time at all to look into that-“

He cuts himself off with a gasping, cut-off sob, burying his face in his arm in his overwhelm but keeping his wrist level so Pok remains visible.

It’s hard to see through the rivers of tears that are spouting from his tear ducts, but Riz thinks he sees his father tugging at his hair, pacing as he watches this unfold. Huh, they kind of are the same.

“You’re seventeen. Seventeen, you shouldn’t- I can’t-“ He seems at a loss for words, baffled by the injustice of it all. Riz has stopped trying to fight the waves of tears, instead letting them wash over them, swiping at his cheeks every couple of seconds to keep them dry.

Pok paces for a few more minutes, fiddling with different parts of his outfit until he’s gathered his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Riz.” Is what he settles on, moving close to the image capture of the hologram so that, if Riz were to tilt his head forward, it could almost be as if they were touching foreheads. Pok continues, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there and I’m sorry that you have so much to deal with right now. I wish I could do more, but all I can give you is advice. What you’ve got on your plate right now, every piece of this hellish puzzle, both is and is not a war. There’s you, and there’s the problem, and a lot of times it seems like the problem is so much bigger than you are, so much more than you’re equipped to handle. Like you’re a man at the base of a mountain with a shovel, hoping to dig a hole through it. But once you start thinking that, the moment you let yourself become less than, that’s when you start losing. You either gotta grow to match the size of it or cut it into little pieces you know you can handle, and I’ve never met anyone who could do the first of those.”

Pok takes a deep breath, then his lips quirk into a rueful smile.

“Also, it’s a lot easier to do things when you eat, and you let other people help you.” He emphasizes the last parts with a heavy look directly into Riz’s eyes. Like he knows exactly how he’s been doing things thus far and is telling him to change it up, for his own sake.

Riz sniffles, nodding. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel the warmth of his father’s skin through the hologram. Or the illusion of it.

“I can do that.” Riz takes a deep breath. “I can do that.”

Pok smiles. “I know you can, kid. Just take it slow. Don’t lose yourself in it.” He speaks as if he’s learned from experience. The realization of how little he truly knows his father hits Riz like a bucket of ice water. A shiver works its way up his spine.

For a moment, he considers asking. Thinks about spending the night on this porch, effectively on the phone with his dad, talking and learning things he’s wanted to know for as long as he’s been visiting Pok’s grave. Then, Pok clears his throat, expression pinched with regret.

“Sorry, kid I-“

Then he remembers that life isn’t fair, and the world moves on, whether you’re ready for it or not. Riz blinks away his tears.

“Yeah- no- I know. You’ve got badass angel things to do. I’m good. Thanks for calling.”

Pok gets a look on his face, equal parts proud and devastated. His eyebrows furrow into poignant resignation.

“I’ll try to do it more. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And then he’s gone, and all Riz has is the cool fingers of the wind, grasping over his shoulders in an icy embrace. He puffs a breath into the air and watches it fizzle from fog to nothing.

It’s dark. It’s going to be dark for another eight hours at least.

Riz is going to die tomorrow, probably. He’ll be fine, but he doesn’t want to.

He really doesn’t want to.  

[dufferpuffer]

what types of books do you think remus would be into, if any? i see a lot of people tend to view him as a big fan of ancient greek/roman literature or just classics in general and while i do like the idea I'm very curious on what your thoughts would be about it.

Remus book taste HC:

Mysteries, Murders, Detectives - the occasional Spy or Sci-fi... the occasional sweet romance, and the occasional cheap smut. He likes stories of regular, unassuming people being clever and righteous, going on adventures - and getting to know others on a deep, personal level, even if it is just to 'read' them for a case. Non-Fiction - especially when he was a kid - especially magical.

For comics he likes comedy and children's adventures (not heroes)

More below:

I do think he is a bit of a bookworm. It's something quiet to do between jobs, while traveling, while resting (when it isn't too exhausting to read) that takes his mind off of reality for awhile. Being unable to make friends as a kid he probably read a lot then, too.

His father working - his Muggle mother was likely home taking care of him and homeschooling him, so he would be very familiar with Muggle authors, though his dad would have passed down Wizarding stories too. I like to think his mother, an imaginative woman, enjoyed them just as much. They left out any story with a Big Bad Wolf.

I think he would have always struggled a little with stories about friends going on adventures (The Famous Five/The Secret Seven, that sort of thing) - but have loved them the most. The idea of a group of friends going on adventures, solving mysteries was just... an impossible dream. Reading them was bittersweet.

For similar reasons - superhero stories didn't fully appeal. Someone having secret powers, or transforming, wearing a costume so nobody could recognize them... it just didn't hit for him. It felt a little sad that they had to hide themselves, too... that they had to work so hard just because they had a 'responsibility' to keep others safe.

With a dad whose job was studying non-beings, and probably took him out on adventures to find little Dark Creatures and such - He would have devoured non-fiction. Especially magical non-fiction. Seeing the world made him feel more connected with it - and he could talk to his dad about stuff when he was home.

He has a slight taste for the morbid, the dark, the spooky - it's what his life is after all. There's catharsis in engaging with terror when you're in control of it for once, when it is just a story. Spooky stories - as he got older, proper mysteries became his favourite. Agatha Christie is a beloved Muggle author and his mother jumped on the chance to introduce him, as cliche as that is. (It was something Albus picked up on - and shared with him. Agatha was just a little younger than him, and he was rather enamored with her publishing's as they were coming out - he has a personal collection of first editions.)

He stuck with mystery's as he got older, too - the best part about them was they were often about an unassuming hero, a simple detective or a lovely old lady, working largely on their own to do the right thing. Using their minds and never quite trusting anyone. THAT speaks to him far more than any superhero.

Muggle sci-fi could be fun, as could Spy novels... ...But his guilty pleasure, one that physically hurts him to read in the MOST bittersweet way, is romance. Romance and Porn. He rarely does it - it's embarrassing, for one thing - but he longs for connection... and the constant "Wife strangled her husband to death" of murder stories can get depressing.

Sometimes he wants to read about an awkward, stern but thoughtful guy falling for a simple, bubbly dame... he can experience a little bit of love and romance in his life, though he knows its impossible. Sometimes he also wants to read about a flock of Veela fucking the absolute brains out of an unsuspecting captured researcher, too.

With all the stereotypes of "Werewolf libido" (which are not true) he feels guilty engaging with his sexuality at all... stories about men being able to safely let go, lose control and be looked after are a weakness.

He was caught once reading a romance novel at school - and was teased for it by his friends. They'd all look at raunchy magazines together, they were teens. He pretended to be less interested. "Come on Moony - isn't it close to Full Moon? Where's your fire?!" Just another jeer he shook his head at... and worried whether or not the stereotypes were true. He should push it all down, just in case...

... I don't really see the 'classic literature' or 'Roman/Greek' angle. Why? To make him seem smart? He reads old plays from an ancient Muggle period - and 'the classics'...? What enjoyment does he get from that? Like where does that specifically piece into his character? I can see him enjoying some classics, and enjoying some Roman stuff, sure - but he never comes across as a history buff. He comes across as a lonely nerd.

[jesslockwood]

Detecting the Haunted Masterlist 

Chapter One

Non Request / Request

@hufflepuff1619​ ​: Hello!! Can I please get a request for Lockwood & Co. The reader is a detective (I been reading lots of mystery books lately lol) and one day, she stumbles into Lockwood while she is trying to solve a crime and his charm doesn’t work on her and one day, he saves her from a ghost. Thank you! Have a good day.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Detective!Reader

Warnings: a bit of Swearing, Talk of Gore, Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of a past M*rder/S*icide (not a lot of detail but still there), and a bit of Angst towards the end.

A/n: AHHH it’s my first Lockwood and co writing! I have plenty more coming too!!! I apologize I kind of rushed the ending but I was too excited to get this out lol. I hope you like this! This is now also going to be a series.

You hated him. You absolutely loathed his smug self who thought he could charm his way out of being in the way of a DEPRAC investigation. Your investigation. He had gone on a tangent of giving you nicknames like you were his significant other and trying to flirt his way out of trouble for the past twenty minutes, wasting your time. 

“So you mean to say that you just stumbled your way into a murder scene, which I might add is trespassing at the minimum, and that was a crime scene with literal yellow tape all over.”

“Yes, That’s exactly what I'm saying. And The death glow in there is brighter than the golden radiance you give off, Love.” 

Your face was hot from fuming over the idiot that was Anthony bloody Lockwood. 

“You do know, Mr. Lockwood, that although hired from an independent source, this is a DEPRAC case. And it is my case. And in this case, you’ve probably contaminated all the evidence now for us. Now you need to tell me who hired you?” 

“Unfortunately I can’t say. Client privilege with our agency. I can tell you they're afraid of whoever was out there trying to get them and by the looks of it’s not only the body here, there’s definitely a haunting. Yes, the body may be a part of your investigation, but my Team was hired for the other problem in this house.” he says as smoothly as a snake. 

“Well then perhaps you should be arrested for withholding information.”

He thinks for a moment, “Let's strike a deal. If we get to clear the house and make it safe, I’ll give you a name.”

“And why should I strike a deal with you? I last heard of your agency when you burned down Mrs. Hope’s house.”

“Well, you need a discreet agency, especially in what I’m assuming is a high-profile case like this, plus, I’ll even let you come in with us to make sure we don't burn it down.”

You couldn't think of a reason to say no. Especially if there was a haunting, your team wouldn't be safe.

“Fine. but if there isn't anything I’ll know.”

You both start walking towards the house with his associate Lucy in tow. 

“Curious, how would you know? Some sort high tech of DEPRAC equipment, darling?” he inquires.

“No, I have talents.”

He looks almost slightly shocked that you said it.

“I have Touch and Sight mainly. Sights more of my strong suit.”

He nods smiling, “Same here. Guess it was meant to be.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“How’d you even get into detective work then? I'm assuming you never did agency work, as the only time I’ve heard of you was for your exemplary detective work, and you don't look older than myself,” he asks.

“Cut the charm, Lockwood.” you pause to take a deep breath before telling them, “Long story short, My father was a detective, and before he went undercover, He made me promise I wouldn't sign up for an agency. He knew the work all too well, having worked as one himself long ago. So I didn't. I still had the itch to do something with my talents, so I signed myself up to work for DEPRAC.”

“How’d he take it?” 

“Not sure.” you stop at the door not wanting to dwell on his death, “What’s in your kit? I’m hoping for no Greek fire.”

You try to not snort when he slowly opens his long jacket proving he had some. 

“If you use that, just know, I will have to arrest you.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he mutters under his breath, before opening the duffle bag. You see what he has and give an approving nod. 

The sun was starting to go down and it was nearing curfew.  

“James, tell everyone to clear out. But everyone needs to come back at dawn, sharp.” You order your colleague. 

He nods, looking skeptical, before getting everyone to pack up their things and leave.

You three enter the house, the draft was definitely there. And Lockwood was right, the death glow on the body was there, but fading as your team neutralized the body in the entryway, to make sure it wouldn't come back. 

“I swear to god if you touch this body and ruin the evidence, I’ll make sure you never work again,” you say to the both of them. 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of touching it.” Lucy grimaces looking at it. 

“Right, Lucy, see if you can hear anything near, Y/n, you stay close to me and I’ll get you up to speed on the information we have on this case.”

You nod, as he starts filling you in about how the person who was living with the man here, was in an abusive relationship with him, and eventually, the woman sliced her significant other, before turning on herself with the blade. The home used to be an in-home business, a barber shop the man used to run. The house was renovated before the problem started, to be a glamorous home, until something started stirring.

You shudder only imagining what could’ve been lurking. 

“Care to share about that death?” He asks, pointing to the body. 

“The body you see is fresh. The neighbors called it in after hearing a gunshot this late afternoon, so it definitely isn't from the manifestation, and we still don’t have all the facts as to what happened, but we do know he’s a relic man.” You inform him.

“Gunshots overall are unheard of, and in this neighborhood? Very Odd.” he ponders, inquisitively looking you directly in your eyes. It caught 

“Yeah, yeah, 'cause the only guns you think of are your non-exist ones.” you joke, trying to divert the burning in your cheeks, as it felt like his eyes were looking into your soul.

he put a hand over his heart, saying Ouch, but your focus was up the huge stairway. It was marbled tiled, all the way up, with a substantial curved staircase against the wall, with an old, detailed metal railing, that looked once to be gold. 

You were now assuming they were getting paid a pretty penny for this job, whoever this was paying them. Something felt off up there. You couldn't pinpoint it, but it made your stomach churn.

“Shall we?” he points to the stairs.

“Shouldn’t we wait for-” 

“Lucy? Trust me if something happens Lucy will hear it. She is the best listener or eavesdropper in London.”

“Heard that!” she yells across the room, “I’ll be right behind you, I just want to check that last room to see if the temperature drops, which I doubt it will” she reassures you.

Lockwood hands you a torch and your hands brush, giving you goosebumps, before you both start heading up, with him behind you slightly. 

“Just remember to turn off the torch so it’s easier to see death glows, and if you see anything, don’t panic, just let me know since I have the rapier.” he winks, with his sly smirk. You couldn’t think of a good response to that, so you kept walking up, feeling colder by the minute. 

Your breathing became heavier, due to the freezing nature of the stairway as you walked up, looking around for signs of anything.

As soon as you hit the landing, you touched the railing, feeling a sharp sensation on your palm. 

You looked at your hand and nothing was wrong with it.

“Alright, love, turn off your torch,  I see something at the end of the hall, you stay close to these first few rooms.”

You nod, agreeing but feeling weary of the idea of splitting up. You sigh turning off your torch. 

He wanders closer to the death glow at the end of the huge hall before you look into a room near you, you feel something take over you, as you wander into the room. As you stepped into the room you start walking on broken glass and tears started coming out of your eyes as you felt sorrow run through you, like when your dad had died. But you couldn't control yourself at all. 

You pick up a piece of glass, squeezing it so tight, your hand had started bleeding. You turned around, raising the glass up to yourself, but before anything could happen, you felt yourself being grabbed and tumbled into the wall where you could see Lockwood, holding your wrists, and you dropped the glass. 

You look directly at him, shaken up a bit. 

“Was I?”

“Yeah, you were ghost locked,” he says looking into your eyes, before wiping the tears from your face the proximity of his face was so close to yours as he examined you. That alone gave you goosebumps.

 He notices the blood from your hand, moving his head and reaching up, and before he could do or say anything, you peered over his shoulder, to see the ghost of a woman coming straight for you.

“Look out!” you yell as you quickly shove yourself and Lockwood away from the wall, tumbling you both to the ground, out of her way and you fall on top of him. You're almost breathless as you quickly roll off of him, grabbing a salt bomb from his belt, before throwing it directly at her as she screams and disappears for the moment. 

Lockwood grabs his rapier and unsheathes it, before quickly getting to his feet, as a precautionary

he helps you get up to your feet. 

“Thanks for you know, saving me,” you say, as gently grabs your hand to examine it.

“Same to you. I think I’d be ghost touched if it wasn't for you.” he pauses before saying, “I think you should go home.” he says looking away, almost avoiding your gaze as if you could read his soul if you looked. 

“Why? We do have an agreement, so where is this coming from?” You ask before he pulls out a handkerchief wrapping it around your hand.

Before he could say anything, Lucy interrupts, “Lockwood, I think I found the source’s area-” 

she pauses almost looking like she was a deer caught in headlights, like just trespassed into a private moment. 

“Do you two need a moment?”

“No, I was apparently going home,” you say harsher than you thought it would come out.

“Y/n I-”

“Just do your Job, and Report back to James tomorrow.”

“I'll Walk you out,” Lucy says, before following you down the stairs.

“I know Lockwood can seem harsh, but I think you should know it has more to do with himself than you. I think he likes you, a lot, and when he cares for someone, he wants them to be safe. Just try to remember that.” she tries to console you before giving you a hug as you leave. 

You see James waiting in his car outside, and you roll your eyes, before getting in.

“You seriously couldn't leave?” you laugh.

“C’mon like I could. I can’t leave you in the company I don't know. Plus I did technically leave for a bit, to get this,” he gives you a brown bag with all your favourite goodies in it. 

“Thanks, James, you’re the best.”

As you drive away, you couldn't help but worry about the boy that saved you. Not just physically but he brought back the spark in you that you thought was gone. The one that you thought had died with your father. 

“Hey, James, maybe it’s time I looked at my Dad’s file.”

“You don’t mean?”

“I do. I need to know how he died undercover.”

You say, before looking down at the handkerchief on your hand that Anthony Lockwood gave you.

Taglist:  @waitingforthesunrise​​

[thegeminisage]

wow it is star trek update time. last night we watched ds9's "blood oath" and tng's "journey's end," which is one of the strongest quality ricochets we've had yet.

blood oath (ds9):

okay, so the summary said "three klingon legends" but what i didn't realize is that they were all REAL KLINGONS FROM THE ORIGINAL SERIES

i have to pain this picture for you, whoever is reading this. the three klingons in this episode appeared in "errand or mercy" "the trouble with tribbles" and "day of the dove." like, they really came back to reprise their roles almost 30 years later. i'm going to paste a picture but uhtw 60s blackface

now, if you're a tos viewer, you may recognize that fella in the middle as also having played the titular squire of gothos in. "squire of gothos." now, as an episode, i find "squire of gothos" to be pretty mid, but there is one specific scene that really did something for me. to me? it did something TO me. what it did to me was send me off the fucking deep end, i wish i could convey the depths of my madness with human words

(still screenshot grabbed from this infinitely more amazing gifset, give it up for @maulthots for enabling me, no literally please go through her gif tag and reblog her gifs)

anyway, before my good and wonderful friend so kindly made this gifset for me, i did maybe sit in front of my pc and replay the clip upwards of [mumble] times a day because i was very, very unwell. when i watched this scene for the very first time what happened to me in that single instant was the bone-deep realization that james t kirk (tos and aos) ate fascists on tarsus iv, probably, and he'd fucking do it again because nobody tastes better than a fascist! i wrote an entire fanfic about it, sorry for the spoilers.

what does squire of gothos and tarsus iv have to do with ds9? well first of all every star trek episode is secretly about tarsus iv so jot that down

but secondly, i've watched this clip so many times i have to hide my face when this man shows up in trouble with tribbles. now, i'm not so good with faces, but i KNOW THAT VOICE. but i know him AS the squire of gothos. i frequently forget entirely that he also plays a klingon, so i didn't recognize his name. so when i heard the squire of gothos's voice come out of a random klingon's mouth in ds9 my immediate kneejerk reaction was "no i am hearing things that can't be--" BUT IT WAS. i PAUSED the episode so i could look iy up, realized that the guy in the drunk tank was kor or "do you have a tongue you will be taught to use it" fame, and then to my eternal glee, kang shows up next

i remembered reading once that kang came back later and i was like ??? no one comes back later on tos BUT HE DID! I JUST HAD TO WAIT FOR IT!!!!! mystery finally solved...........

once i recognized them this episode was a blast. absolutely loving these 100 year old klingons getting ready for a rip roaring rampage of supercentenarian revenge. i was VERY sad that they died at the end but at least presumably they all died together (didnt see the last one go down but im just assuming he lived long enough to eat the albino's heart and then die)

(the albino is a really funny concept by the way like he's not even albino he's just a white klingon)

other notable things about this episode: firstly, quark hiding behind odo at the beginning. classic. secondly, dax actually being a good fighter ?!?!?! and finally, a true passing of the bechdel test where dax asked kira some alarming and upsetting questions about killing people and kira immediately took her aside and MADE her talk. i love. Women. and also women who murder people. i support womens wrongs.

i even love that the ONE time sisko doesn't back up one of his people it's for a good reason (doesn't want the 27yo reincarnation of his father figure to die on a klingon suicide mission)

10000/10, absolutely stellar ep, zero complaints

journey's end (tng):

oh boy.

just about the coldest bucket of fucking water...

you know, we tried to give this episode the benefit of the doubt actually. we were like "maybe this was progressive in 1994. i mean they ARE saying that moving these guys forcibly would be bad" and i mean like what would we know about what was progressive in 94? we were 5. so we checked and um i don't think anybody liked it in 1994 either

devastating that THIS has to be a wesley episode bc i wanted a better sendoff for my boy. "i had a vision and now i'm leaving starfleet" and yes they said the word vision in the most derogatory way possible. jesus christ

TRAVELER ALIEN RACEFAKING? HE PRETENDED TO BE NATIVE AMERICAN TO GIVE WESLEY THE VISION? and then he was like haha don't you know all that stuff is fake. (picard earlier in this episode "i am sooo respectful of your beliefs")

furthermore when picard was like "oh yeah this guy blames me for the crimes of my colonizer ancestor" girl at no point did he say that. idk if white people should go around accusing other white people of white guilt so i don't say this lightly but jesus christ captain picard can you tone it the fuck down buddy

i came across a gifset today of picard from season 5 (idr the episode) going "starfleet doesn't want officers who blindly follow orders sayign you're just following orders has been used to justify too many tragedies in our history" and then smash cut to this episode where he's like "well i tried but yeah i'm gonna have to move you sowwy :/" like good lord.

anyway it's a bummer these last few eps of tng have been less than great bc ik tng is capable of good episodes and i was hoping this series would go out on a high note. but it's going to end the same way it began with us waiting for something good to happen and throwing popcorn at picard

TONIGHT: ds9's "the maquis part i" and tng's "firstborn." i am Braced. for trouble.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

k i'm gonna just put a pin in the whole "was jgy actually massacring multiple sects of 40+ people just for demonic cultivation date nights with xue yang" ('meat cute' anyone? ..I'll see myself out) or the "is wwx's capacity for gruesome violence inherently morally[1] inferior/superior to jgy's" disc horse for another time and move on

no one criticizing willfully bad faith takes about jin guangyao is trying to turn wei wuxian into the novel's villain when they bring up his actions in relation to what jin guangyao has done. no one is actually saying that jgy is not the principle antagonist in the novel. we can read. that is his role in the story, his goals and priorities end up in opposition to wwx's, and wwx is the protagonist. and, to my knowledge, there are no legit wen chao simps chomping at the bit to justify his eradication of the jiang sect at lotus pier. unless there are! in which case apologies to any wen chao simps who may read this post, your simping is valid. (also: bold choice. weird, but bold.)

what we are saying: the text intentionally sets up jgy and wwx as narrative parallels to each other. the text intentionally provides us with unreliable narrators as our lens through which we must view 95% of jgy's actions, first in the form of wwx (please don't @ me about his reliability, this man's spotty memory is meme-worthy, contentious legislation pass through parliament with more alacrity than his self-awareness wrt his relationship with lan wangji), then through wwx's interpretation of nmj's resentment-fuelled recollection of the past as a literal fierce corpse, then through sect leader yao formulating his extemporaneous[2] magnum opus of a condemnation narrative about jin rusong's death, after the witness testimony about jgy's marriage to qin su and super fucked up murder of his father. like, I hope it is understood why no one should be using testimony from sect leader yao as the foundation of their understanding for any character in this novel, period. /rattles the bars of my enclosure, do not trust sect leader yao!! he is the weathervane conservative mp, any time you end up in agreement with him should make you p a u s e and re-evaluate.

my point: mdzs is a fucked up little world filled with fucked up cultivation world politics and crimes and atrocities, and our most reliable window into this world is, unfortunately, wei "oh yeah I forgot about that plot detail" wuxian. more than that, his priority in the narrative is understandably not focused on solving the mystery (read: not a mystery) of why all of jgy's motivations, actions, and decisions are measured against a standard set so much higher than the one the rest of the cultivation world has to contend with (spoilers, it's classism). it's up to the reader to spot the context clues, often in the form of bits of overheard commentary provided by the common people in the background of some other major plot event that is unfolding, or in an aside by wwx himself where he reflects, "huh, maybe it's my own bias impacting my ability to read this situation clearly." I'm paraphrasing here but you get what I'm saying.

tl;dr the least interesting discussion we could possibly have about jgy and wwx is whether either of them are Good or Bad Guys Deep Down, particularly when evidence for either of these positions are provided by the novel's unreliable narrators and witnesses, but for some reason that's the discussion the jgy antis seem hellbent on having, and it's boring.

--

[1] I cannot stress to you how microscopic my interest is in some bible study-adjacent debate on morality in a danmei novel about necromancy, revenge killing, and the willful desecration of human remains. the extent to which I just do not give a fuck about this particular brand of disc horse is vast and limitless.

[2] inserts the padme amidala and anakin skywalker square meme here like we all understand that sect leader yao's statement about jin rusong's murder is based on speculation and not even circumstantial evidence, right? ...we understand that, right?

[cutiecorner]

🤒🤠🥺❤️‍🩹💌 For Alfred?

🤒- They catch a cold! Do they tell their caregiver(s)? If not how do they notice? Do they look after their little one?

Bruce hates admitting he's sick, but Alfred knows even before symptoms become noticeable to Bruce. Pure dad instinct. Nagging Bruce doesn't really work, so he's opted to baby him instead. Just really subtle things until he actually does loosen up enough to take a break and regress. But Alfred dotes on Bruce to no end when he's sick, he can barely stand to leave the room. Bruce enjoys having him there, and all the sympathy and snuggles.

🤠- What types of games do the regressor and caregiver play together?

Bruce loves to solve little mysteries, and Alfred likes to seen them up. Mostly silly things, like "what happend to my slipper?" that turn into a big twisty chase to track it down (Ace hid it in the cave). Bruce also likes to play Grey Ghost, to which Alfred gives his best performance as a dastardly villain. Bruce often does full episodes word for word from memory.

🥺- Favorite part about being a caregiver?

Ouugh everything. Absolutely everything. Being a caretaker in general is Alfred's life passion, and he just likes taking care of kids and babies most. He jokes that he wanted to be a mom when he grew up (and he did!)

❤️‍🩹- It's been a hard day, how does the caregiver recover with their little one?

Bruce hates to admit it, but he just really likes to be reassured. He's also a big cuddler. He's really afraid he'll crush Alfred, but Alfred doesn't mind at all. Call it deep pressure therapy, mutual autism win. Just laying down on the couch together, watching a comfort show, and letting himself cry while Alfies coos at him about how brave he was and how much he loves him always makes Bruce feel better.

On the other hand, Bruce always can sense when Alfred's having a bad day. He can just sense it, especially since Alfred doesn't like to complain. Like father like son, it's nigh impossible to get Alfred to admit he needs comfort, so Bruce has just learned to pretend he needs comfort instead. Caregiving is very fulfilling for Alfred, sometimes he just needs to coddle someone, so Bruce volunteers himself. The same couch cuddle combo works for Alfred, so it all works out in the end.

💌- What is the love language between them and their caregiver like?

Acts 👏 of 👏 service babyyyyyy. That's their love language so the time, they love helping each other. That's kind of the whole reason Alfred is a butler. And Bruce returns it too, whenever he can he loves to help Alfred and do stuff for him. When they're doing agere stuff, they are more verbally and physically affectionate. Even just little things like Bruce leaning against Alfred's leg when he's sitting on the floor mean a lot to them.

Thanks for asking!

[spookyghostjelly]

Moonlight Sonata - Falk Maria Schlegel x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, 3k words of smut, pnv sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk

Author’s note: it’s my first time actually finishing something and posting, please be gentle! On this note, I hope you like it

It's enticing really, the faint melancholic notes lingering in the cold air of the night. You've been sitting and listening for a few minutes now, wondering if your sleep-addled brain was conjuring the melody, but now that you were wide awake, you could tell this was no dream, someone was definitely playing the church's organ.

Sitting up in bed, you simply kept on listening mindlessly for a while longer. You noticed the player certainly knew their way around the instrument and the complex melody was strangely haunting yet captivating. As you let yourself sway to the moody notes, you wondered if perhaps you should go wake Father Attila and warn him someone was in the church at such a late hour… But then again, the chances of it being a trespasser were practically nonexistent, and you'd feel terribly embarrassed for waking him up in the middle of the night if it was nothing worth worrying about. After a few more minutes of pondering, you decided to go check yourself, if you sneaked in, maybe you could find out who was playing, and the mystery would be solved without anyone else having to wake up at such a late hour. Determined, you slipped on a robe and a pair of fluffy socks, they would keep steps as quiet as possible, and slipped out into the corridor. It's cold and empty, and you can't stop the shiver that runs through you as you make your way to the church. The music creates an eerie atmosphere that you know should make you feel uneasy. But, somehow, despite the nervousness of the unknown, you feel mainly curiosity. Your mind gets lost in the possibilities of who the player could be, and only a moment later, you realize you are already standing in front of the church’s heavy wooden doors. Your heart is now thumping in your chest, and you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm it down. It had to be someone you know, you think to yourself. With one last steadying breath, you lay your hands on the cold metal handles and, as quietly as possible, you push the doors open just wide enough for you to slip in. Once inside, the sound of the organ bounces off the walls of the empty church. It's so loud, it's as though each note resounds deep in your bones. From your spot, you can see the faint outline of someone on the gallery, their swaying shape outlined by the light of the moon coming in through the stained glass. It's still impossible to tell who it is however, so you carefully inch towards the stairs leading to the gallery. So far, the sound had covered any sound you could've made, the stone walls and steps surrounding you effectively keeping you out of the player's view, yet you felt as though you still needed to stay as silent as possible. Climbing the stairs in the dark feels like it takes forever, and the organ getting even louder has a chill running down your spine for reasons you cannot quite fathom. As you finally reach the top, you take another deep breath to steady yourself, before peeking your head out of the archway. The player is still facing away from you, but from this close, you could see him much clearer. It was a shape you'd become quite familiar with as of late and seeing him made you feel relieved, yet your heart did not slow down. Just as you were wondering why he was here playing at such an hour, the music stopped abruptly. The sudden silence was jarring compared to the previously anguished notes filling the air and you unconsciously held your breath. You watched as the man slowly turned his head, peering behind him from the corner of his eyes. You choose this moment to come out of the archway.

"Father Falk, I-I'm so sorry I did not mean-" you stutter out but stop as he fully turns to you.

His face is bathed in the colorful lights of the stained glass, and a soft smile graces his lips. His intact face paint tells you he probably did not go to sleep at all. Breathtaking, is the first word coming to your mind, but you quickly brush the thought away, wringing your hands nervously.

"Sister, please don’t be sorry, you did nothing wrong.” he says gently. “I did not wake you up, did I?”

His eyes wander down your body slightly and you blush, feeling a little self-conscious about the plush robe you'd put on before leaving.

"Oh, it’s fine, please don’t worry about me, Father. I just thought I heard someone playing, so I came to check..." you trailed off.

"My, my aren’t you a brave Mäuschen" he chuckles playfully. "Please forgive me for waking you up Sister," he adds.

The nickname makes your heart flutter, but you try your best to hide it. You know you shouldn’t feel this way, what would Father Falk think of you?

“Would you like me to show you?” he asks suddenly, gesturing towards the black and white keys.

“Oh… I’m afraid I do not have the musical talent that you have, Father,” you manage out.

“Nonsense, come,” he quickly answers, extending his hand for you to take.

You stare at the long nimble fingers for a few seconds, then your eyes travel to the small wooden bench he is currently sitting on. Sensing your hesitation, you can see the beginning of a smirk cross his lips as he pats his left thigh with his other hand. You blush furiously but despite your common sense, you slowly reach for his hand. He grabs it before it can reach him however and in an instant, you find yourself perched on his lap, trapped between his body and the organ, his face merely inches from yours. Despite the darkness, you can’t help but notice the light hazel of his eyes and the subtle, playful sparkle within them.

“Father! Isn’t this-” you gasp.

“Shush Engel” he cuts you softly. Your cheeks are burning so hard, you feel like your entire face has to be a deep shade of red. “Indulge me” he whispers, his lips close to your ear.

You try to suppress the shiver running through you at his hushed tone, but his faint smirk tells you that you did not quite succeed.

“Now pay attention to my fingers.” He orders gently.

You do as he says; your eyes going to his long fingers, your mind however struggles to focus as he resumes playing. Your ears barely register the music, focusing instead on his breath so close to your ear. You feel your own breath accelerating and so does your heart, so much so you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel it. His fingers move elegantly on the keys and his body sways slightly behind you, but you can’t help but feel tense. Clearly Father only meant to show you how he plays, so why did you have to feel so flustered? Why did your own thoughts feel so impure? You shouldn’t be enjoying the warmth of his body against yours so much right? Your mind is so busy worrying that you didn’t even notice he had stopped playing until one of his hands came to rest just above your knee.

“Sister, are you alright?” he asks, and his lips are so terribly close to your ears, you can’t help but lean into him a little more. “You seem awfully tense.”

“Y-yes, I am alright Father” You internally curse your stuttering.

Suddenly, you feel his other hand brushing your hair to the side, exposing your neck to him. You inhale sharply and just as you’re about to turn to look at him, you feel his lips trailing down the now bare column of your neck.

“F-Father?”

“Yes Sister?”

“What… I-Is this ok?” is the only thing you manage to squeak out.

He inhales deeply from his spot in your neck.

“Is what ok Maus?”

You feel the curl of his lips. Was he teasing you? Before you can think about it any further, you feel his teeth nipping at the skin, which has you gasping. Your heart thunders, and you feel as if it could jump out of your chest right at any moment.

“Do you like this?” He whispers as he keeps nipping and brushing his lips to your neck.

Was this a trap? What were you supposed to answer? Was he testing you perhaps? The hand on your thigh slowly rose.

“I- Father Falk- I’m… I should-” you were nearly panicking, why was he tempting you so?

“Do not be afraid, you can tell me the truth.” He commanded.

You gulped as you tried to calm down and simply nodded, incapable of voicing it, but he pulls away and seizes your chin lightly to face him.

“Use words.”

“Yes” you breathed out as your eyes scrambled to look anywhere else but his face.

Finally, his lips landed on yours and all coherent thoughts left you. You can’t help the slight hum leaving you, his kiss is soft at first but quickly turns needy and desperate as his tongue demands entrance, which you grant readily. Both his hands now maneuver you to straddle his lap before resting on your hips and your own land on his chest.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for this sister,” he says once he pulls back to let you breathe.

Your wide eyes found his. He had been waiting for this? However, once more, he does not give you much time to compute what he just said as his hand slowly goes to untie your robe. Your lips part as you watch him, entranced by the movement of his fingers as they open your robe further, trailing up to your shoulders to remove it fully. Left only in your light nightgown, the cold air of the church has goosebumps flaring all over your skin.

“Will you let me have you?” He asks as his fingers pull lightly at the straps of your nightgown.

Your eyes lifted to his once more and as if to make his point, he lifted his hips ever so slightly so you could feel the growing bulge between your legs. You gasped once more, your eyes never leaving his.

“I- I never… I don’t know how to…” You hesitated.

"Let me guide you then," he insists, slowly inching the straps down your shoulders.

His eyes stay glued to your face, carefully watching every reaction he pulls out of you. You don't stop him as the straps finally fall, the top of the loose nightgown pooling at your waist. You immediately notice the way his pupils dilate and the rise and fall of his chest accelerating. At this point, you are nearly shaking in nervousness, anticipation, lust, or all these at the same time? You don't even know anymore. What you do know, however, is that you never want his touch to end. The soft feeling of his fingers lingering on your shoulders before making their way to your collarbone is enough to make you feel as though your whole body is on fire. His eyes finally leave yours as they trail down to follow the movement of his fingers.

"Beautiful" he breathes out.

You feel so vulnerable like this, naked before him, and you know your blush has probably spread down to your chest. But you did not look to see, no, instead your eyes go to the buttons of his shirt, your hands unconsciously drifting closer to them. He chuckles when he notices.

"What do you want, little one?"

"Can... Can I? Please Father"

His smile widens as he resumes his gentle stroking of your chest. The yelp that leaves you when his fingers brush your nipples makes you feel ashamed, but the pleased hum he gives is enough to make you forget about it. His touch is so light, yet it feels like sparks shooting through your whole body.

"Go ahead Maus, but call me Falk please, I wanna hear my name leaving those lips."

You nod eagerly, and his mouth is back on yours in an instant. His fingers still tease you as you fumble to open the buttons of his shirt. It's so hard to focus when his lips and touch feel so good, it makes your stomach tighten in want. You moan into the kiss, feeling both needy and a little frustrated at the offending buttons. You pant as he pulls back, mercifully opting to help you remove his shirt, which he quickly casts aside. The lean muscles of his arms and chest are finally bared for you and he sighs as you let your hands travel across his skin. He takes this moment to grasp you behind the knees and pull you closer to him, your chest now against his and his erection pressing against your heat. The sudden pressure has you mewling softly, which you try to stifle in his neck. He tuts gently.

"Let me hear you, you sound so sweet."

He then begins to grind his hips into yours, and even if you were to try, you doubt you could stop the moans now coming from you. It felt so good, he felt so good, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Your back arched, pushing further into his chest, as you felt an intense need burning down there.

"Fath- Falk..." You whined. "Please"

"What is it, little Maus?" His breath is heavy, nearly panting as he keeps rubbing against you. "Tell me what you want."

"You... I want you, please"

You don't even know how, you just know you want him in any way, around you, against you, inside you. Your brain chooses this moment to remind you you should be ashamed of such sinful thoughts but at this point, you're already too far gone to care. Especially when he groans, rolling his hips a few more times, before his hands pull at the nightgown resting at your waist. You help him lift it over your head and he discards it with his shirt. Left only in your thin white underwear, you watch with wide eyes as his fingers dip inside the waistband, creeping towards where you truly want him. You inhale sharply as he finally comes into contact with your wet folds, your eyes lifting to his.

"I've barely touched you, and yet look at you… How lovely you are Sister" he sighs, his eyes wide with what looks like adoration to you.

You barely have time to enjoy the view however as his fingers find your clit and start stroking soft circles. You keen, head falling onto his shoulder as you feel bliss like you've never felt before. It all felt so overwhelming in the most satisfying way. So many new sensations you had only ever dreamed of, you were too ashamed to even touch yourself before. Now it's like every one of your nerves is on fire as he keeps rubbing slowly. His free hand goes to your chin, lifting it gently.

"I want to see you Maus, keep your eyes on me." He orders.

You try your best to do as he says, you want to please him, desperately so, if it means he will keep doing what he is doing. Though you can't stop your eyes from rolling back, as your moans get louder and more desperate. For a second, you're worried about being too loud, the stone walls of the church echoing every single sound within it, so you bite your lips as you try to focus back on him. His thumb however goes to your bottom lip, gently prying your mouth open for him. He smirks as he pushes the finger inside your mouth, brushing against your tongue languidly. Your breathing accelerates, your heart beats wildly in your chest, but you still suck around his fingers as slowly and deliberately as you can. He rewards you with a pleased hum which has your walls clenching around nothing. The circles he is brushing get more and more insistent and you mewl around his thumb. You feel yourself quickly nearing a ledge, one you're not sure leads where. His thumb retracts with a pop.

"F-Falk I-" 

You don't even have time to speak further as you suddenly tumble over the precipice. White hot pleasure floods through your body, and you quiver in his lap, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream. His mouth latches on your neck and in between kisses, you can hear soft praises as he keeps stroking you through your orgasm.

"My good little Maus, giving yourself to me.”

Your brain feels like mush as your glassy eyes look up in time to see him taking his wet fingers to his mouth. You flush as you watch him, completely enraptured despite your shame. Once more, you feel your cunt clenching and you buck into him.

"Need you Falk, please," you whimper pathetically.

He chuckles as his hands go to unzip his pants, finally freeing his throbbing erection from the confines of his pants and underwear. You can't help but stare as a part of you wonders how it could possibly fit. Heat still pools through you at the sight though, the leaking tip, the thick veins-

"Are you ready?" He asks softly, distracting you.

"Yes... Please"

He nods and his hands go to your hips to lift you, positioning you over his length. Pushing your panties to the side, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly, he begins pulling you down. Your breath hitches as you feel him breach you, torturously slowly sheathing himself inside your heat. The stretch is initially uncomfortable, bordering on painful, and you can't help but whimper. His lips slot against yours, tongues dancing together, which serves to distract you as he keeps pushing in. The more he fills you, the more pain makes way to pleasure. He presses his forehead to yours as you both pant heavily, and you feel so overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness you’ve never known before, you were on the verge of tears and he hadn’t even begun moving yet.

"So good for me Maus, look at you, you're already taking all of me."

The hoarse whisper against your lips sends a shiver through you, and he grunts lowly when you clench around him. You notice how he is holding back for you, as you accomodate to the stretch. After a few moments though, the fingers on your hips tighten hard enough to bruise. You cry out when he lifts you up before dropping you back down on his length. His name falls out of your lips like a broken record as he keeps repeating the motion, accelerating the rhythm. Your legs are trembling now, and he begins bucking up into you as well, hitting a spot inside you that has you nearly screaming.

"Will you be mine, Maus?" He suddenly asks harshly as his lips go back to your neck, sucking bruises and biting. 

"Y-yes, make me yours, please Falk!"

"Good girl" he whispers as his pace gets quicker, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. 

You can't even think anymore, you just focus on the feeling of him thrusting into you and his low growls against your neck. A second orgasm is quickly approaching and you hear yourself pleading incoherently. He suddenly bites harder into your neck, and that's how you come undone, convulsing and screaming out his name as you clench tightly around him. He curses then bites into your shoulder, and through the shockwaves of pleasure, you feel his cock twitch and fill you to the brim with his seed. You both stay like this for god knows how long, the sound of your strained breaths filling the church. You whine when he finally pulls out of you and tucks himself back in his pants. You can feel his cum leaking out of you and into your panties as you watch him mindlessly, feeling completely blissed out and exhausted. 

"There's no way I'm letting you go now, love" he says as his hands cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

You lean into his touch and you smile sleepily. Your face has to be such a mess now, you think, but you cannot bring yourself to care.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way, Father."

[maximaxstreasurebox]

BSD Untold Origins: Anime VS Novel (2)

As I promised, here's the second part, covering the teahouse scene! There's more cut-out moments than changes soooo I tried to highlight the more important and some funny parts..

Season 4 and light novel spoilers!

(Part 1) - (Part 3)

[...] Only after making sure the assassin was unconscious could Fukuzawa finally let out a deep breath. "So that's the hit man?" Fukuzawa turned around toward the voice coming from the other room. "Call an ambulance. And the police," he ordered. "Wouldn't the police be enough? I mean, the secretary's already dead. More importantly, I'm out of a job now, so could you help me out?" Fukuzawa's head was spinning. What was wrong with this kid? What just happened? [...] "Hey don't just leaving me here. What happened to taking me out to eat?" [...] "You-" The young man with cropped hair beamed, radiating innocence and mirth. "The name's Ranpo Edogawa. Don't you forget it!" -Page 84-85

Fukuzawa felt as if he were watching a nightmare play out before his eyes. [...] There were a few other customers present, and they kept glancing in Fukuzawa and Ranpo's direction. Fukuzawa had to fight against the impulse to go around the shop explaining that this kid just followed him here for some reason. [...] -Page 85

Not sweet? It's red bean porridge. The stuff is more mochi than red bean. [...] It was hard to watch, but it wasn't as if Ranpo were committing any crimes. He didn't want things to get worse by saying anything, either. Just imagining Ranpo peeling off the bread of the sweet bun and eating only the red bean paste inside made him shudder. [...] -Page 86

About a page long part is explaining what happened after the secretary's dead. Ranpo tried to walk away but Fukuzawa stopped him, and the two explained the events to the police. The evidences were found in the secretary's overcoat, then another paragrapth of Fukuzawa thinking about Ranpo's deduction skills.

[...] "At the workplace, on the side of the street... I used to always stick my nose into stuff that bothered me, but people would just treat me like nuisance or think I'm weird. After a while, I got tired of it. Sigh. Good grief. The adult world makes my skin crawl." Ranpo shook his head and frowned in disgust. "Do you dislike the adult world?" "I hate it. It makes absolutely no sense." [...] Fukuzawa felt the urge to point out that there were also many wonderful things in the world, but he yet again kept it to himself. He didn't feel as if he had the right to tell such fairy tales. "Fukuzawa, you dare betray us?" "Was our outh to the welfare of the nation nothing more than a lie,Fukuzawa? Did your words have no meaning?" Fukuzawa gave up the sword that day, but he could feel its weight against his hip. [...] -Page 89

A detail I'm actually a little uhh disappointed?? about is not talking of his parents more in anime.

"This city really is a mystery to me." The city - why did he leave his hometown? "What about your parents back home?" "They're dead." A faint hue of sorrow flashed across Ranpo's face.

"Died in an accident. I don't have any siblings or relatives, either, so I came to Yokohama. My dad told me to go to the Yokohama Police Academy's principal for help if anything ever happened to him." [...] "What was your father's name?" When Ranpo told Fukuzawa, he was slightly taken aback. It was a name even Fukuzawa knew. [...] The man was a legendary detective. The "Headless Officer" case, the "Moonlight Phantom," the "Cow Head Incident" - [...]. His powers of deduction and observation were so extraordinary that people called him the Clairvoyant. [...] There were rumors that he retired and moved to the country-side, but...he passed away? "He probably wasn't amazing enough to be known to the public or anything, though. He could never beat my mom when it came to solving mysteries or reasoning, [...]." [...] Apparently, she wasn't a police officer, detective, or even a criminal psychologist, but just an ordinary housewife. [...] -Page 90-91

There it was again. Fukuzawa felt as if something was off. "I have absolutely no idea what adults are thinking," the kid said - and something about how that came across seemed vaguely wrong. A naive only child raised by genius parents... This kid was different from the others. There was something about how his brain worked that was... extraordinarily different. [...] Did this kid not realize he was special? [...] Ranpo knew the secretary was the criminal [...], but the reason he didn't speak up was because in his head, he thought the adults in the room all knew that as well. That must be why he kept rambling on about himself rather than the murder. Or perhaps it was because he had simply lived a sheltered life in a bubble with his parents and no one else. [...] -Page 91-92

"That's it?" he repeated. "Isn't there, like... you know? Something a little more tangible? Don't you get, like... a lump in your throat when you see a wayward fourteen-year-old boy who lost his parents, is jobless, and has nowhere to go?" [...] "I sure do," admitted Fukuzawa. "I still can't believe you ate nine bowls of nothing but soupy red beans." "Oh, this was nothing," Ranpo said boastfully, then almost immediately shook his head. "Wait! That's not what I'm talking about! I'm talking about mutual aid - the spirit of helping one another! You can't take connections like this for granted... Wait. Taken for 'granite'? 'Granted'? Uh..." "Granted," Fukuzawa replied. [...] -Page 93-94

I'm too soft. Even though I try so hard to avoid getting involved with others, I can't stop myself from doing things like this. I want to be alone, but I can't even kick a troubled boy to the curb. It's true that I do owe him, but... Ranpo quietly accepted the business card. [...] -Page 94

"Great! Now that that's settled, let's get a move on! First, I'll just get my stu- Wait. First, I'll wash my hands and - Wait, Wait, Wait. Before that, [...]" Ranpo was full of smiles. A thought crossed Fukuzawa's mind: Maybe I ought to just toss him into the ocean.

My absolute favourite part hahah!! The walk to the theatre wasn't without Ranpo being annoying when he's complaining. 'City sucks but countryside worse', 'I want candy', 'I hate walking', 'Are we there yet?', 'I want candy', 'I wanna feed the birds'-

Three times, Fukuzawa told Ranpo to quiet down as he whined for candy. Twice, Ranpo wore down Fukuzawa's patience until he caved. Three times, Fukuzawa convinced Ranpo to keep walking when he complained his legs were tired. Four times, Fukuzawa carried Ranpo on his back. [...] -Page 96

Nevertheless, while he was responding with nods and brief interjections, he had mentally already tossed Ranpo to the curb. He tied up Ranpo, left him on the street corner, and went home... in his head. He removed a manhole cover, tricked Ranpo to fall into it, and splash! After hearing Ranpo fall to his demise, he closed the manhole cover and left... in his head. Fukuzawa quietly came up with fifty ways to get rid of Ranpo and go home, [...]. -Page 97

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Eleven

A Detective in Training

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

“To think I’d receive a challenge from the Guild.” Ranpo said as him, Dr. Yosano, and you walked down the hall to the meeting spot the Guild gave you. You were dragged along on this mission due to Ranpo’s fascination with your father. “Hopefully this will stave off my boredom for a bit.”

“Feels like a trap to me.” Dr. Yosano said, looking over the invitation. “Right (Name)?”

“Well agreed.” You said in response to her question. In front of you of there was a door with a riddle attached along with a place to answer. You let both of the detectives look it over as you stayed behind the two of them.

“Looks like he wants you to fill in the correct answers.” Dr. Yosano said, looking the paper over. “Afraid I can’t help ya there.”

Ranpo only giggled and took out a pair of glasses from his coat. “Wouldn’t happen to have a pen on you by any chance?”

“Oh I think I do.” You said reaching into your coat pockets and feeling around for one. Once you found it you handed it to him and giggled. “Here you go Mr. Detective.” 

“Thank you my assistant.”

“Assistant? Last time I checked we worked for two different organizations.” You questioned to his reply as he turned to answer the question. 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll join the Armed Detective Agency after everything with the Guild.” He answered as he shaded in a box.

“I doubt that.” You shoved you hands in your pocket as you thought. You weren’t a fan of a few members of the Armed Detective Agency, Dazai for sure and maybe even Fukuzawa. Plus your place was in the Society and you couldn’t bare the thought of leaving them before your goal was achieved.

You watched in silence as Ranpo answered the question and then swung open the door to the room ahead of you. It was an office it seemed, pretty plan in total honesty. At the desk sat a man, dark brown hair that covered his eyes, a interesting suit, something you would expect more of the society than the guild, and a raccoon, yes a raccoon sat on his shoulder. The man was writing in a book when you all came in, he looked up to you all with a smile.

“Are you the mastermind who issued a challenge against me?” Ranpo asked as he closed the door behind you all. 

You heard the man chuckle at Ranpo’s question. “It’s been a long time, Ranpo. Were you able to solve the riddle I left you at the entrance?” Ranpo held it up for the man to see and the man’s smile widened. “Of course I’d expect nothing less from you, my worthy adversary.” You watched as the man’s eyes drifted to you, the only person not from the detective agency. “Ahh and it seems you brought a society member as well.”

You stepped behind Ranpo and Dr. Yosano. “I’m not important here or anything, I sorta just got dragged along.”

“I believe I earned myself a question.” Ranpo reached up and took off his glasses. “Who are you again?”

“Huh?” The man exclaimed in shock. “You don’t remember me?” The reason I joined the Guild in the first place is so I could redeem myself against you. I am Poe! For the last six grueling years of my life I have endured the crushing shame of being bested by the likes of-“

“Mhm, can you speed this up please, you’re boring me to sleep.” Ranpo cut him off that earned an amused chuckle from you and a gasp of shock from Poe. 

“I’m setting up the backstory here!” Poe yelled before taking a deep breath in and calming himself down. “This is a game between detectives, you read the mystery novel I’ve written and use your skills to determine the identity of the serial killer.”

“You’re already loosing points, you can’t even decide if you’re a detective or a writer.” Ranpo walks forward, closer to Poe’s desk. “I mean don’t get me wrong, (Name) over here can’t decide if she’s a revolutionary or a detective either.”

“Excuse you!” You exclaimed, in shock at Ranpo’s bold statement. “Just because my father was a detective doesn’t mean I am.”

“Ooo, the plot thickens.” Poe said, glancing at you with a smile that you merely rolled your eyes at. “If you can solve my mystery, I will reveal to you the Guild’s weakness. The floating fortress that is the Moby Dick will stand no chance against your assault.”

Your attention was grabbed once more as he said this, but you had to snap yourself out of this. No, no, this wasn’t your fight, Miss Jane settled the society’s score with the Guild, you couldn’t undo her sacrifice.

“Mkay now you’ve earned a point, but why dull out a silly challenge in the first place?” Ranpo asked, stepping even closer to the desk. 

“The Guild’s operations are barbaric and unbelievably dull.” You could agree with that statement from Poe. “There is only one thing humanity ought to have a curiosity about and that’s your ability, ultra deduction. Am I wrong?”

You leaned over to Dr. Yosano and whispered . “His ability?”

Yosano smiled and shook her head. “He doesn’t really have an ability, he is just super smart, but he thinks he does have an ability.” 

“I see…” You hummed in thought as you continued to watch the pair talk. 

You watched Ranpo snatch up the book with a wide smile. “Let’s do this!” 

Ranpo sat down in the chair across the desk from Poe and opened up the book and Dr. Yosano came and stood over his shoulder to read as well, but you stood off to the side, not willing to get involved with a fight that wasn’t yours.

“Not going to take a peak?” Poe asked, looking towards you who stood off to the side.

“Not this time around no, the society’s score with you all has been settled.” 

“I see…” Poe responded before looking back at Ranpo and Yosano. “Allow me to set the scene of the story. Once upon a time, a group of travelers found themselves trapped in a mansion as a result of a fearsome snowstorm. On this dark and stormy night our protagonist is awaken by a strange sound. The protagonist opened the door with a key only he possessed and what he found there was a victim, the windows were sealed making it impossible for someone to entered or left in such a manner, two doors and a matching key.”

Suddenly you watched as the book began to glow and Ranpo and Dr. Yosano turned to dust as they were sucked into the pages. You watched in horro and shock as this all unfolded before you. “W-what on earth?”

“Bear witness to my gift! The ability to draw the reader into the world of a novel!” The book crashed to the ground and Ranpo and Yosano were gone, leaving only you and Poe in the room, well and the raccoon. You were in a state of complete shock as you stared at the book then back to to Poe. He only smiled and waved you to come closer. “Please sit down, no reason to be so stiff and stand, you are my guest after all.”

You nervously walked to the chair and sat down. Your eyes darted around the room, there was really nothing to look at besides the desk, Poe, and the book, but you weren’t even gonna touch that thing after what you just saw. “I really shouldn’t be here. If Dr. Stevenson found out I came after what happened I will be in a lot of trouble.”

“I highly doubt that the Guild will trust me again after this.” Poe said with a sigh, his eyes looking down at the book, the pages flipping on their own. “So consider my lips sealed.”

“Thank you then, Poe.” You looked down at the book on the floor. “So how long will it take for them to solve?”

A smile came across his face. “They won’t.”

Your eyes widened in shock as he said this. “W-what?”

“Not even Ranpo will be able to solve this mystery. It’s a remarkably unusual puzzle that I have written specifically for Ranpo. Once you’re in the book it’s all but over, you’ll never figure out who the killer is or how they did it.” His eyes were stuck to the book as he spoke. “This is no mere challenge, this is revenge. Unlike him I will never forget they day he defeated me in a battle of wits. I was so throughly humiliated I could barely look anyone in the eye. I felt like was lost in a dark maze but I found a reason to press on and that was to seek the same praise and adulation that he did. Maybe then I could obtain the peace of mind I craved or find the one who was meant for me, that warmth will belong to me.”

You just sat there while he monologued. “Okay… I don’t really see how any of this is my problem. But I would be interested in hearing that introduction you gave Ranpo again.”

“Certainly, my dear.” He smiled and nodded. “Once upon a time, a group of travelers found themselves trapped in a mansion as a result of a fearsome snowstorm. On this dark and stormy night our protagonist is awaken by a strange sound. The protagonist opened the door with a key only he possessed and what he found there was a victim, the windows were sealed making it impossible for someone to entered or left in such a manner, two doors and a matching key on the victim.”

You sat and contemplated the riddle as he spoke, trying to peace it together. Locked room. Matching keys. Why would the protagonist have the key if the door was locked at the caretaker have the key. Whoever would have the matching key would be the murderer… then it snapped. “The protagonist would be the murderer then.”

Poe was taken aback by this a look of shock worn across his face. “H-how did you… how did you solve my mystery with just that?”

“Simple, you said the room was locked and the only other key that could unlock the room was on the victim. So whoever had the other key, the protagonist, would be the murderer.” You shrugged, tucking your hands into your coat pocket, you smiled. Maybe you were like your father after all. “It would be tough for most people I presume but I guess I got a few things from my old man.”

“Your father? Ranpo mentioned him to be a detective.” Poe questioned, walking over to stand in front of the desk. “Who was he?”

“Arthur Conan Doyle, other wise known as Sherlock Holmes.” You answered and a flabbergasted expression came across Poe’s face. “I never really knew him though, he disappeared so my aunt and uncle raised me here in Yokohama.”

“That’s… that’s incredible.” He responded, still in shock.

You smiled and laughed to yourself. “Who knows, maybe I am suited for this detective work after all.”

—————————

After awhile of waiting for Dr. Yosano and Ranpo, you found yourself drifting off. You didn’t sleep well last night after what Gaston told you about Fyodor, nightmares, waking up in the night, trouble falling back asleep and so on. Poe understood and allowed you sleep, ceasing his questions to you about your history and background on where your deductive abilities may have come from. 

So you slowly found yourself falling asleep and there in your dreams you found a place you never have been to before but you have seen, it was your father’s office back in London. You saw your father, laying out papers and files on the ground, it almost looked like a mad man’s mess but it some how made sense to you, it was his evidence and leads. In his arms you saw a little bundled up baby, you. You were seeing this like a ghost. Your father stared down at the evidence before him and hummed, kissing baby you on the forehead. “Do you know what to make of this, (Name)?” 

From you he only got baby babble and tug on his brown curls in response. He laughed and set you in your cradle that was next to the window in the office. “Well my little assistant, that is a very good deduction. You’ve been working so hard, that it’s time for a nap.”

He sat you down and went over to his desk chair and sat down. You walked over and looked over his shoulder, more evidence, leads, and letters as well. You saw an address, 221b Baker Street, London. Was that his home? Before you could process anything, your father looked over his shoulder… at you and smiled. “Oh my (Name), how you have grown.”

“…father.”

He smiled and nodded. “Come and find me, (Name).”

You awoke with a start, back in Poe’s office. Yosano and Ranpo were back. You woke up with a gasp and shoved off Poe’s coat that he had given you, while you were asleep, you just looked so cold that he had to. You stood up and everyone turned to you. Dr. Yosano walked up to you while you gasped for breath. “(Name) are you alright?”

You shook your head and looked at Poe, still in shock from your dream, you’re kind running a million miles per hour. “Pen, I need a pen and paper.”

“O-of course, one moment.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a pen and a blank sheet of paper for you and you quickly scribbled the address down. Everyone looked over your shoulder as you did. 

“221b Baker Street, London? What does that mean?” Ranpo asked as you folded the paper and tucked it away.

“It means, maybe I am meant to be a detective after all.” You finally caught your breath and smiled. “It means my father is alive.”

[owmylasagna-blog]

In the time I was away from eds stuff I latched onto a new bit of media called Dimension 20: Fantasy High. It’s a DnD series played by comedians and DMd by Brennan Lee Mulligan because yes I am also that kind of nerd. But I couldn’t help but create crossovers in my mind because that's what my mind likes to do so… Yeah. Major spoilers for D20 below duh in case anyone cares:

For context, Fantasy High as a series is if you took a DnD campaign and had it directed by John Hughes. It follows 6 party members who are high school students at an adventuring academy casually saving the world, trying to pass classes, and dealing with messy family drama, dating, and popularity. No biggy.

Ed is so so Gorgug Thistlespring. Or should I say Gorgug is Ed if he was a half-orc adopted by delightful tinkering gnomes. While he starts out as a berserker barbarian, smashing recklessly and raging through battles, his determination to help his friends leads him to become a proficient tinkerer. In the latest seasons he multiclasses with artificer (I have such a soft spot for the artificer class you don't even know!). His character is not meant to be especially bright but Zach who plays him is incredibly perceptive and good at reading the DM that multiple times he is the one to solve mysteries in off-handed comments way before anyone else figures it out. He’s tall, clumsy, easily confused, a -1 to intelligence. He has size 18 shoes. His plot in the most recent season was literally about him pushing against peoples’ expectations of him, his teachers not believing in his potential to succeed. He delightfully and sometimes ragefully proves otherwise. Gorgug rocks.

Eddy and Edd were a little harder to pin down as well as Ed but I’d say Edd’s closest comparison would be Adaine and Eddy is maybe Fabian.

Adaine is a high-elf wizard with literally the worst family ever. They suck so much. Luckily she finds a new family in her friends and her former guidance counselor turned adoptive father werewolf Jawbone. She has an anxiety disorder that gives her panic attacks. She has an emotional support familiar that is the roundest frog ever. She’s a perfectionist that fears loss of control and worries that her anxiety prevents her from acting when it matters most. The reason she even meets the rest of her party is because she failed the entrance exam to the fancy wizarding school and she, her parents, and her older sister won’t let her forget it. Adaine is equal parts smarts and headstrong: despite being a talented wizard and an oracle, in the heat of the moment she will resort to punching madly rather than use her divination magic. One of her wizard friends makes her a giant arcane fist spell that she uses to punch her dad dead. In return she gifts the friend a Comprehend Subtext spell which is the fucking best.

Fabian starts out as a pompous rich jock type half-elf. He’s on his high horse as he rides the coattails of his infamous pirate father Bill Seacaster. A talented, athletic, agile, strong fighter. Master of posturing and peacocking, his pride and brash confidence are the outer shell for a deep insecurity that he can never live up to his father’s legacy and expectations. This very hubris nearly gets him killed in the second season. He gets so physically and mentally defeated from this that he DELEVELS. Broken, Fabian spends the rest of the season fighting a debilitating depression, rebuilding himself, eventually connecting to his elven roots and embracing dance. His fighting style changes from then on to some flashy form of rhythmic gymnastics bard. Toxic masculinity be damned, he’s a dancer. Season 3 he is still struggling with the need for acceptance and the pressure for greatness, obsessed with being a “maximum legend”. Oh and he falls in love with a magical mirror reflection of himself. Like, come on.