#the most fuckboy swagger there ever was

[alternate-real-ities]

Hi. It would be interesting to know how you look into other universes? Do you have any kind of device or magical abilities? Can you demonstrate this on me?

Hey there, cutie 😉. Thank you for your intriguing question about how I perceive other universes and realities beyond our own. While I do not possess any magical abilities, I have developed a remarkable device that allows me to peer into the multiverse. My machine utilizes advanced quantum computing technology coupled with exotic matter as the energy source. It allows me to access specific realities with decent clarity by calibrating it carefully.

To demonstrate this capability for you, I would be happy to show you some alternate realities where you're still as stunning as you are now, only in a different way:

Here's a universe where you are instead Filipino. Here, your hair is a deep black with just the slightest hint of waviness at the top, framing your heart-shaped face perfectly. You possess a boyish face that makes anyone weak in the knees at first glance. When you smile, it's like seeing a whole world open up.

Your chest is smooth and flat, leading down to your soft belly and then tapering off into elegant legs that show little signs of hair. You are so small and delicate that it's hard to imagine that below all that innocence hides a deep lust for a big strong man to hold you up and do with you as he pleases.

-

Now, let's pay a visit to a previous dimension I like to call "Arab World". At the pinnacle of this society are the most perfectly engineered humans - those with Arab DNA that has been optimized through generations of careful selection, genetic tweaking and breeding to create individuals of unparalleled physical perfection and mental acuity. In this universe, you are an alpha of unparalleled might, your virility unmatched by any who have come before. You take great pride in your genetic superiority, knowing that no mere mortal could ever compare to your perfection.

You are blessed with a virile physique, muscular form sculpted by years of intense physical training. Your bulging chest and rock-hard abs speak to your boundless strength and vitality. In the gym at your lavish estate, you push yourself to the limits, determined to maintain peak condition.

But as much as you appreciate fine living and opulence, your true passion lies in power, conquest, and sexual domination of lesser beings. As an elite Arab alpha ruler, you take immense pride and pleasure in asserting your superiority over those beneath you, including your slaves.

-

To end this showcase gracefully, let me show you one last reality which might be my favourite. In this dimension, one of your parents is black, and as such you were born to become an handsome lightskin man.

You are an absolute fuckboy, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Your life is one endless string of parties, workouts, flirting, and fucking. You are utterly shameless about flaunting your body to anyone who will look. At the gym, you make sure every single rep is perfectly calibrated for maximum muscle growth. You strike poses, flexing and posing with a confident swagger that lets everyone know just how goddamn hot you are. The mirror loves you as much as you do.

Your nightlife consists of endless nights out on the town. You're always down to hit up the trendiest clubs in the city, the hottest bars, the flashiest parties. Your social media is filled with steamy selfies showcasing off your bodacious physique - pecs popping from tight tank tops, washboard abs glistening as you do ab crunches against a wall. Fans and admirers drool over every inch of exposed skin.

You are always on the prowl for a special someone to show off and bring home - some unsuspecting twink who can't resist getting lost in your world of pleasure and excitement. The way you touch them, caress their skin with lingering fingertips, leans into them with smoldering intensity - it's enough to make even the most experienced bottom moan like a bitch in heat.

-

These are just some examples of the diverse array of alternate realities that my machine allows me to access and observe from afar. Although, with the timeline converger project I'm currently working on, it may one day become possible for me to physically transform you as well if we both so desire.

As a side note, I'd like to thank you for your patience! I know I took a lot of time, but calibrating my machine takes quite some time if one wants to see realities that aren't as normal and boring as ours. I hope it was worth your time, because I'm sure it was worth mine 😉 See you next time!

[hotdamnhunnam]

Jax Teller: Fuck You Better

A/N: I’m SO OBSESSED with the below request 😍 In which you tell your BFF Jax Teller that your vanilla sex life with your current fuckbuddy just isn’t fulfilling your needs any longer... and Jax offers to satisfy your hungers. Fuck you rougher—harder, better, faster, stronger 😏🔥

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex Request: This AMAZING anon request

Word Count: ~2.1k

“Jax... you really didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Kick your fuckbuddy’s butt?” your best friend ever, badass motherfucker Jax Teller, approaches you now with his signature smirk and his swaggering strut. Glances back over his shoulder at the loser you’re ashamed to call your lover. The poor guy is in pieces. It was supposed to be a pointless little brawl, here in the middle of a random SAMCRO shindig, but Jackie Boy is standing proud and tall, as if he just won the Olympics. Everyone’s cheering for the golden champion with his stupidly sexy blonde man bun.

Jax snickers back again at the opponent he just effortlessly vanquished. “He fights like a pussy ass bitch, to be honest. For your sake I really hope his dick hits better than his fists.”

“His dick is none of your business. And I won’t be getting any for a while now you’ve fucked him up like this,” you hiss, licking your lips, trying hard not to stare at the sweat on your BFF’s bare sculpted chest as it glistens and drips. Jax has just walked off from the scuffle without so much as a scratch; meanwhile your fuckboy was just owned out of his wits, clearly outmatched.

Jax brushes it off with a laugh, playfully slapping you on the back. “Look, he started the fight. Said I’d been checking you out all night.”

Yeah fucking right. You heave a sigh. “Why didn’t you just tell him he was wrong, then?”

“I’m a lot of things, Y/N. Liar ain’t one of ‘em,” he replies, leaning in toward you with a twisted little twinkle in his eyes.

He’s always been a shameless flirt—even with you, the girl he’s friend-zoned for forever. Though you know that he means nothing by the words, that doesn’t stop the wet hot fire he ignites between your thighs…

“That dress is way too short,” he mutters, as the fire in your cunt burns even hotter. “And way too tight. The whole damn world can see that pretty little ass of yours. But you already knew that, right? Like knowing every man here wants a piece of you tonight?”

Not every man, you wish you could snap back at Jax. Not the one I want. Before you can, some random slut comes up behind him and attacks, clingy hands clawing at his bulging biceps. “Hey there, champ. Can I get you cleaned up?”

“Sounds good, darlin’...” Jax readily accepts, turning toward you then. “Oh, one more thing—he said I could smack his girl’s ass if I win.”

“No he fucking didn’t...!” you attempt to protest, but then Jax slaps you through your dress and you let out a goddamn yelp. The slut inside you can’t be helped.

He grins back at you as he struts off with the skank that he’s going to fuck, clearly pleased with himself. And it feels like you’ve been run over by a truck. Being in love with your BFF Jax Fucking Teller is literal hell.

***************

“Hey, can we talk?”

You have no clue what just possessed you to come up to Jax’s dorm room uninvited. But whatever just compelled you to burst through the door—conveniently unlocked—you couldn’t fight it. It was probably the thought of yet another undeserving whore devouring his gorgeous cock. You’ve never seen it, but it’s not as if you have to see, to know Jax has the world’s most perfect penis. With a face, a body like his? Honestly. There’s no denying this. It’s straight up fucking science.

Thankfully, you came up fast enough that Jax and his bitch haven’t yet taken their clothes off. The bitch blinks up at you, agape—appalled—like you just barged in on their wedding day. You just glare daggers back at her from where you’re standing in the doorway. Sure, it’s immature; you really have no beef with her, and this is not her fault. Of course she takes your unexpected presence as an insult. But you can’t be brought to care right now. You need to be alone with Jax, and if that requires cock-blocking her ass, then that’s how.

He meets your gaze, those baby blues fucking you up in countless ways, and you might cum just from the eye contact. You are a desperate whore for Jax and that’s a fact.

“You should probably get out,” he tells the slut who’s straddling him in the bed. The poor girl can’t believe the words out of his mouth, but Jax said what he said. 

If there’s one good thing that comes of being his best friend, it’s that he treats you with a shitload of respect. Crow eaters mean nothing to him when you’re in the room. Then again, who the hell needs respect when you’d give it all up to become a dumpster for Jax Teller’s cum...?

With an indignant huff, the other woman grabs her stuff and storms out of his dorm, making sure to bump forcefully into your shoulder as she passes through the door. You really harbor no hard feelings for the poor unfortunate whore. Pity, for sure—must fucking suck to be her, being so suddenly deprived of a shot with Jax Teller. No doubt it would’ve been the best sex of her life, ever.

In any event, now that she’s left, you and your BFF are alone together.

Jax gets up from the bed, lazily raking a hand through the lustrous blonde hair on his head. Well aware that he’s covered in sweat. “I should, uh—hit the shower...”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you tell him, stepping inside and locking the door. Why did you lock it? Fuck it.

What you don’t tell him is that he smells fucking divine. How is it even possible for anyone to smell like heaven, in the state that he’s in? His smooth flawless skin is so slick with his sweat that it shimmers and shines and might seriously strike you blind.

He stands across from you with his hands on his hips, white waistband of his boxers sticking up above his jeans, tongue flicking out between his lips. Those hands that drive you fucking wild in your dreams, that tongue you’d sell your soul to suck. “So you wanted to talk?”

You clear your throat and bob your head in an attempt at a casual nod. Trying to come off as cool when you’re anything but. “Yeah, it’s just—I just wanted to vent, a little bit. About that thing you said... to be honest, fuckboy’s dick doesn’t hit better than his fists. The sex is always lame and plain vanilla and I’m sick of it. Even in bed, he’s a pussy ass bitch.”

Jax bites his lip, stifling back a silent laugh. Cleary quite glad—though not at all surprised—that he was right. “So he fucks the way he fights? Hey, so do I...”

You roll your eyes, playfully punching him in the side... which was a mistake because now you’ve made contact with his sweaty skin and it’s too much to take.

Needless to say, Jax takes the punch in stride. The smug smile on his face is miles wide. “Think it’s high time you dump his ass if he can’t keep you satisfied.”

Something about that fleeting skin-to-skin contact, and his closeness in this moment, and his maddening masculine scent, has you crazily pacing the room and saying all manner of shit that you’re doomed to regret. “And then what? Fuck around until another Son decides he wants to claim me as his own personal slut? It’s not like I can have the one I really want.”

You take a second to tune in to your own internal dialogue, currently scolding yourself for being so dumb—where the fuck are you going with this, you insane little cunt?

Jackson doesn’t seem to be having the same reaction. For unthinkable reasons, while standing there all godlike and glistening, he appears to be very sincerely listening. “You, um... got your eye on someone?”

“Always have,” you blurt out, and you really want to snap a goddamn bear trap over your moronic mouth.

Now Jax has you with your back up against the wall and you cannot think straight at all. Blonde hair and blue eyes and broad shoulders tower over you so tall. “Yeah? What’s he like?”

Oh, I don’t know, just look at your own beautiful reflection in my big wide stupid eyes. The thoughts you keep in silence are as stupid as your actual reply. “He has a really big... um... bike.”

The cheeky bastard laughs as if he knows you meant to talk about his dick. He probably did. But then again there’s something shy inside his eyes that makes it look as if he genuinely doesn’t know shit. “Now that’s not very specific. Come on, Y/N—just tell me who he is. You know there are no secrets between us.”

Yeah, sure, except the secret that I’m scientifically convinced of the perfection of your penis. Somehow you manage to take back some of your dignity right this instant, if only for a minute. “Mind your own motherfucking business.”

Jax is still doing that sincere listening thing and you quite honestly can’t handle it. He’s looking at you now as if you’re something breathtaking to witness. Just like he is. “Wow. You really like this guy, for serious.”

Heat rises to your face, insides melting to mush beneath his gaze. “That obvious?”

“You’re getting all worked up just thinking about him,” he notices, going on as if oblivious to the fact that it’s because he’s in the room. “He better be epic, whoever he is.”

Oh, you have no idea, Jax... “And why would you say that?”

Your brain physically breaks upon hearing the words he says next: “Because you’re fucking perfect. Deserve nothing less. You should be with the guy who can love you best. Fuck you best.”

Sweet mother of Jesus. What just even fucking happened? There’s a space between your lips and his, still—just a sliver, and it kills. The moment you give in to this your world is bound to end...

You know that much for certain; you and Jax tried going down this path just once before, so long ago that you’re determined to forget, the only moment of your friendship you regret. It’s never just a kiss. It’s always more, always a risk, of losing him. Of losing this. And you can’t let it happen again.

You’re fucking trembling, heartbeat fighting, but you have to say the right thing. Even if it hurts you more than anything. “Christ, Jax—‘fucking perfect’? You really mean that? As a... as a friend?”

The word weighs heavy on your tongue. No word has ever felt so wrong, but there it is, and he can taste the bitter heartbreak off your lips. Bites his and shakes his head. “Yeah, I guess. Just being honest. BFFs, what else?”

Love is literal hell.

And just like that, in a split instant, all the reasons he had so sincerely listened, anything that he had felt... is fucking gone. Or so he can pretend, at least. He always fakes it well, hiding behind the image of the savage sexy beast. “So what, we done?” he snaps, swiping his hand through his disheveled hair and casting you a cold blue stare. “I was about to get my dick wet, till you came up to complain about how your pussy ass fuckboy sucks in bed.”

You deal his chest a harder-than-just-playful punch because you seriously hate him just that much. “God, you don’t have to be a dick about it. Honestly, Jax, do you give a shit about anything other than sex?”

“Can’t live without it. Dick ain’t gonna suck itself.”

At this point the words are just flying all over the room. Nothing even makes sense. “Ugh—you know what, that’s the difference between you and him. You and everyone else.”

“What? That I fucking win?”

“That’s what you like to think. That you’re some kind of motherfucking king. Strutting around like you’re the god of everything.”

“Maybe I am. Takes balls to be the fucking champ.”

“Yeah, well, your balls can kiss my ass.”

... Oh fucking shit. Those words may have been just a little too... accurate. Now there’s an image in your head, a vivid image, and it’s... pretty fucking graphic. Pornographic. Fucking magic.

And of course Jax has to say the words to match it. “Bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, bitch.”

... Oh. Fucking. Shit.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did!! ❤️

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[thecozywhaleshark]

Jack of All Trades (pt. 1)

A/n: A spinoff of King of Hearts, centering around Escort Tae and the lovely barista. Will I survive this series on top of KoH? Who knows. Stay tuned. 

Word Count: 1512

Warnings: Escort Tae. Swearing. Kind of a fuckboy Tae... basically everything is rude and I strongly dislike myself for expanding the KoH universe.

Summary: He’s your most annoying customer... but also the hottest one...

The first day you met Tae just so happened to be on the first day of your shift, and he had been your personal hell ever since.

He was annoying, arrogant, cocky, flirtatious, and not to mention… super fucking hot.

And that was the most annoying part.

On your end, you were just trying to pay your way through college. You had a ton of bills and debt that always seemed to keep piling up, and the only way you could even remotely keep it at bay was for you to work the night shift at Jackie’s, a little bar in the oldest part of town.

You were so grateful to have the job you didn’t ask what kind of customers you would be having, expecting old drunkards and maybe some tired workers wanting relaxation after a hard day.

What you were not expecting, was the constant trickle of hot men and women who flowed in and out all night, the most frequent of which was a fiery redhead called Tae.

He had quickly become the bane of your existence, coming in every night for drinks and staying for at least an hour, calling you his jagiya, getting on your nerves, and flirting with you until he threw down your tip with a cocky wink and swaggered out of the bar to go who knows where.

He came in every night at the same time, left around the same time, and left you thinking about all the shit he said to you until you were red in the face with anger.

Every. Single. Day.

You look up from wiping the counter as the bell dings above the door, 9:00pm on the dot.

The man of the hour had arrived.

You sigh and try to offer him the customer service courtesy smile. “Hello, Tae.”

“Jagiya! How’s my favorite girl?” He gives you a wicked smile and leans across the counter to give you a kiss on the cheek, but you step back, causing him to miss and curse as you roll your eyes and turn towards the liquor bottles behind you.

“What will it be today Tae? Rum and coke?”

He smiles and sits down on a stool, resting his chin in his hand. “You always know exactly what I want.”

“You’re here every day.”

“But you still took the time to memorize my order…”

You turn your head and give him an uninterested look as he continues to smile at you and tap his fingers on the counter.

“You literally have ordered the same thing, every single day, for the past six months. How could I not know it at this point?”

His smile only grows wider and he folds both this hands under his chin. “I think you like me.”

You snort and slide him his drink, picking up your dishcloth again. “I don’t think ‘like’ is the word I would use…”

He pouts and sticks out his tongue at you before picking up his drink. “Meanie.”

You roll your eyes. He had his cute moments, but they usually didn’t last long.

Sure enough, as soon as he’s tasted his drink he’s dropped his cute stance and is looking at you again. “So how would you describe me then?”

You set down the glass you pulled out and point a finger at him. “Cockily Arrogant Sexy Bastard Fuckboy.”

He blinks in surprise before whistling low and picking up his drink and smirking at you over the glass. “Aw, you think I’m sexy.”

“I take it back. Now you’re only a Cockily Arrogant Bastard Fuckboy.”

He points back at you. “Yeah, but a Sexy one.”  

You roll your eyes and begin to load some of the dirty dishes into the now empty dishwasher.

“Question for ya,” you ask, arranging the various cups and shot glasses.

“Shoot,” Tae replies, sending you another easy smile.

You close the dishwasher and stand up fully. “What exactly do you do for a living? You’re here every night, dressed like you’re about to either go to court or I don’t know, run a club, but if you ran a club I would then ask why you’re here when you could be getting free drinks there…”

“…I’m an escort.”

You snort and lean back from the counter. “Sure you are.”

He looks offended and gestures to himself. “Do I not look good enough to be an escort?”

You shake your head smirking. “Oh, you definitely look good enough to be an escort…” you catch yourself and stop, blushing furiously.

Shit, you did NOT just say that to his face.

He smirks and swirls his drink. “So you do think I’m good looking…”

You send him a glare. “I never said you weren’t.”

He raises his eyebrows and tips his drink back. “Mhm...”

You slap down your towel again and begin to unload the dishwasher. “Alright then, Mr. Escort, tell me, are you any good?”

You quirk an eyebrow as you begin to re-stack the shot glasses in your cupboard, waiting for his reply.

He smirks and empties his glass again, holding it out. You’re almost done re-mix his drink when he speaks.

“Very good. But it’s not like you could ever afford me.”

Cocky bastard.

“Why in the world would I ever want to spend a night with you?” you spit, spinning around and slamming his refill in front of him just a little too hard.

He raises an eyebrow and leans forward. “So you’re interested.”

“I’m not.” You lean over the counter and meet his gaze. “N. O. T. Not.”

He searches your eyes for a minute before leaning back and taking another sip of his drink and lowering his voice. “I bet I could fuck you so good you would be ruined for any other man.”

You roll your eyes. That arrogance.“I’d have to find a few men who would be willing to ruin me first.”

He looks up at you, almost… shocked. “Wait, are you a virgin?”

You shoot him a glare. “What’s it to you?”

He shrugs and downs the last of his drink holding out his glass for another refill. “No need to get defensive, jagi, I’m just curious.”

You snatch it from his hand and begin to pour the rum.

“So what if I am?!” you snap, adding the cola and mixing it with a spoon.

You slide the drink back to him and he looks into it. “Can I get a few more ice cubes?”

You huff but drag his drink back to you, popping the icebox and plunking in a few more. “There.”

He takes it back in silence and sips it, almost lost in thought until you can’t take it anymore.

“Say something.” You find yourself asking, tense about what he’s thinking.

“Something.” He says back casually, sucking an ice cube into his mouth.

“Oh, nevermind.” You huff and head to the other side of the bar to check on your other customers.

Why do you care what he thinks? It’s totally okay to be a virgin at any age…

What if he offers to take your virginity?

Shut up he wouldn’t offer that.

But what if he did?

Imagine that fire red hair between your fingers… between your legs…

You shudder and clamp down on your thoughts as you pick up the dishcloth and wipe the counter, working your way back to where Tae sits.

“Have you at least been kissed?” Tae blurts, and you look up to see him staring at you intensely.

You blush hard and slowly shake your head before looking back down, suddenly very interested in the nicks on the table before you. You hear him take a sharp intake of breath and you look up to see him biting his lip.

“Don’t act so surprised!” You snap, raising your wet dishcloth, ready to slap him. Instead of replying, he leans over the counter and stops your raised hand with his, tugging your wrist down. He gently tilts your chin with the fingers of his other hand and pulls you closer to him before softly pressing his mouth to yours.

His mouth is warm and it feels different, but not in a bad way. It’s so soft, but also firm - almost demanding. Before you have the chance to react and decide whether you want to kiss him back, he’s pulling away and you immediately miss his warmth.

You stare at him wide-eyed and mouth a little open in shock as he leans back and slips off his stool before downing the rest of his drink.

“That one was free,” he murmurs low and winks, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and sliding bills across the counter to you. “See you tomorrow… jagi.”

He abruptly turns on his heel and walks out of the bar, leaving you flushed and wanting behind him.

“Ass,” you hiss as the door swings shut behind him, hating that he just left like that… and hating that your fingers can’t seem to stop drifting to your mouth, over and over again, for the rest of your shift.

Part 2

[spiltscribbles]

for the fic title thing : “ I’m sorry I had to leave you”

Notes: TYSM for the prompt bb! 

.-

Send Me A Prompt Or Fake Title

.-

The first time he kisses a boy Whizzer’s sixteen and starry eyed over the baseball team captain who smiles at him with adoration and shyly brushes their hands against one another in the safety of Whizzer’s own home while they’re working on a shared Biology project—soft and questioning. 

Whizzer somehow recognized the hints, thinks that people like them just find one another, that it might be some sort of means of survival. So he’s tactful when he responds with the same intent, is shocked when the other boy takes the hint and runs with it, leaning forwards and slotting their lips together, feverish and excited.

Sometimes Whizzer feels robbed of the moment— the first time he kisses someone with any meaning behind it— but other times Whizzer is perfectly content. 

It was kind of rough and more than a bit desperate, but Whizzer didn’t mind. He liked the fact that this boy—All American jock with a crooked smile and pretty, blue eyes— wants him. All Whizzer could think, elated and gleeful, is that he’s not some abnormal freak for not wanting to take off Mindy Mendes’s bra last weekend in the backseat of her Dad’s Lincoln, because this epitome of American idealism is attracted to Whizzer in the same ways that Whizzer is him.       

This is normal and he doesn’t have to hide his truth, it’s fine, he’s fine.

.-

It’s a week subsequent to their first kiss when that same All American jock punches him square in the jaw when he thought one of his pinhead friends had seen them getting too close for comfort. 

He tried apologizing that night, had brought Whizzer a joint to smoke  and box of chocolates to share. His big blue eyes were pleading, and borderline terrified— terrified of what Whizzer knew, of what he could do. But Whizzer doesn’t bother to play out some stupid fucking tableau of being the sheltered gay kid pining for the perfect boy who thinks that coming out is akin to admitting a murder— love isn’t a fucking crime.  So he just plucks the joint out of his hand, leisurely pops a toffy filled piece of chocolate into his mouth and tells’m that he won’t ever tell anyone what he knows, what they’ve done, but he also never wants to fucking see him again and he needs to get the fuck out of his driveway. 

“Whizzer, please—“ He tries to argue, face scrunched and eyes shining with wetness. 

“You come near me again and I’ll report that this lovely shiner was your doing, got it?”

He parts his lips again, probably another apology. Probably trying to ask if there’s somehow  anyway   that they could continue this tentative little flame they’ve been tending. But Whizzer doesn’t spare him another moment, just slams the door shut and pads off to the kitchen to get some snacks ready for his impending munchies. 

He tells himself that he won’t ever be someone’s dirty little secret. 

.-

He has three, long term, boyfriends in the span of  a decade… Before him. And a hole lot of one night stands sprinkled between.

Whizzer was sure that his first boyfriend was gonna be the one he would marry. Hemet’m at the LGBTQ club Whizzer’s sophomore year and his senior. His name was Juan and he was dorky in the most endearing of ways. He treated Whizzer like he was the most treasured part of his world, and was there for him  when Whizzer came out to his parents. 

Juan was everything for so long, which only made  Whizzer feel even more  guilty as hell when he woke up one morning leading up to their one year anniversary, and he suddenly felt nothing. 

.-

The second boy that Whizzer actually dates— and not just someone who he spends frequent, late night hookups with—is one of those in-between people. He met him his first week in New York. He was very pretty, and occasionally a bit to kind for Whizzer’s liking. He ran a non prophet that helped find homes for the homeless. He was brilliant and compassionate and they agreed on so many things, both politically and morally. And Whizzer thinks that he loved him, isn’t sure he was in love with him, but he’s always loved him for all the six months they were together. 

He’s kind of ashamed to admit it, feels bad even now, but in the intersect of them growing apart, and finally calling it quits, Whizzer meets someone else. 

He’s older than him by a decade or so. Dark hair beginning to pepper, and wrinkles surrounding his pale eyes. He kisses Whizzer hungrily, and buys him fancy dinner and flashy rolexes that his measly salary as a free lance journalist  could’ve never afforded. But best of all he never tried holding him down. Didn’t care how or with who he spent his days as long as he was there, sitting pretty, when he needed a date to show off in front of his colleagues. 

Whizzer was perfectly fine being a vapid, unattached trophy for someone he never had a chance in hell loving.

“Doesn’t it feel sleazy?” Cordelia asks with an owlish blink to her big pale eyes, in the midst of wrapping up the desserts she’s just finished baking for another bar mitzvah she’s catering. “This guy obviously doesn’t care about you.”

“I don’t care bout him either,” Whizzer shrugs, noncommittal before tossing another almond in his mouth. “I like the freedom of it Lia.”

She continues to frown, almost sympathetic.

And he knows, God does Whizzer know. He promised himself that this would never happen, that he’d never let himself fill this role. He knows that this’s the exact opposite of what he should be doing, but a part of him just doesn’t care anymore. Whizzer’s proud and loud, he’s gone to every Gay Pride Parade he’s been able to. He makes it a point to hold the hands of his dates in public, and to sneer at anyone raucously spewing slurs their way. And yeah, it’s gonna suck not being able to do that anymore, but also, this bloke likes Whizzer and buys him such wonderfully superfluous gifts and isn’t that the most important part?

.-

When he meets Marvin everything kind of comes to a halt. Whizzer doesn’t know what it is, what it’s going to be. 

It’s at Cordelia and Charlotte’s  housewarming party, showing off how great their lives are, which Charlotte quite blatantly says a whole slew of times. “I get to save lives and love you.”

Cordelia had giggled and kissed her lovingly at that, and Whizzer only kinda felt wistful towards it.

Apparently Marvin’s an old college friend of Charlotte, and god damn Whizzer really should’ve been made privy to which ever university they had attended for New York’s prettiest and brightest. It might’ve inspired Whizzer enough to actually pursue higher education.

Marvin’s the one that introduces himself to him, bright eyed and deliciously athletic looking, and Whizzer doesn’t mind the fact that he spent the rest of that night lost in his orbit. 

It’s around one in the morning, the party is still in full swing, but the pair of them sneak off to a spare room after Marvin had clumsily spilled. They’re laughing about something they wouldn’t be laughing at if they were teetering even slightly more on the sober end of things. 

“I like your hair,” Marvin muses, carding a hand through Whizzer’s curls.

“Was born with it,” Whizzer hiccups, which makes Marvin start to laugh again, Whizzer gets the feeling that Marvin ordinarily doesn’t let himself act so uninhibited and careless.

They lean against one another, weak and bumbling. When they somehow collapse onto the bed that static passes— the one that Whizzer knows too well, has experienced literal countless times before, and only very rarely in an actual bed.

Marvin’s gazing at him, thin lips curved into a delighted smile. And God, Whizzer can’t help to liken him to the stars back then,  think he’s got some of that old Hollywood swagger in him, even if it’s a trite point, but still. Marvin’s beautiful and he laughs at Whizzer’s jokes and he’s actually here in his bed. And this is like a sensory overload with Marvin’s hot wisps of breaths skirting against Whizzer’s lips and his hand still scratching his scalp, and his eyes are boring into Whizzer’s.

Marvin moves forward to kiss him full on the mouth, But Whizzer can’t help but stutter back.

“Are you even gay?”

Marvin, effortlessly cool, just shrugs one of his broad shoulders.

“I don’t like labels.”

Whizzer can’t help but snort.

“That is the douchiest thing you could’ve said, you know that right?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Marvin counters.

“Oh no, no, no you beautiful, angel looking fool. It most definitely was. Hell, I would’ve even  excepted you borrowing the quintessential Fuckboy mantra of     not for tonight, over that crap.”

Marvin dissolves back into giggles, and Whizzer hates how endearing he finds it.

“Will you just let me kiss you, please?”

And well, it’s not as if Whizzer could ever deny that.

Whizzer dips down and kisses Marvin within an inch of his life, and it’s all the brilliant things people wax poetic about in storybooks and fairytales. 

.-

Whizzer loves New York, loves how the freedom and liberation of it can seep in your bones and make you think that life is as open and wonderful as it is here, for everyone     across the globe. 

Whizzer thinks of the nonconforming nature of the folks in Tribeca. Of the history in Stonewall, of how he was a pilgrim from Nebraska trying to find purpose and acceptance in this world and found it in the most beautiful city in the world. Thinks he’s so proud to have adopted this place, how he loves it so.

Begrudgingly, Whizzer likes New York even more when he gets to wake up and find Marvin— who’s never fully— mind body and soul— in one place for a very long time,  besides him. When he gets to watch how the early morning light kisses the tops of his sharp cheekbones, dancing across the muscles of his bare back and making it look like he’s got on a dark halo. 

He’s beautiful, he’s always been beautiful. Whizzer’s never thought otherwise even when he thought he was being borderline cruel sometimes. They were perfect for one another in that sense. Marvin’s got silver tipped words and a cynical streak that Whizzer’s known for, and makes him laugh and blush (whether out of fury or amusement)  in equal measures.

He’s kind of perfect, would be if it weren’t for everything else. If it weren’t for the fact he had a wife and kid back home in Manhattan. If it weren’t for how little he thought when he spewed out cruel words in their more heated disagreements. Would be if he had just let go of his stupid little folly of having a perfect family while getting to screw who he really wants in the background, like some fucked version of family values. God if he was only as decisive as he claimed to be  besotted by Whizzer.

But no, that’s unfair. Despite it all, Trina— an open faced, kind hearted woman— is his wife, and if there’s a single thing Whizzer knows about Marvin it’s that he loves his son, that he’d do anything to make sure Jason got what he needed. Even if it was playing out some tableau of a sham of a marriage.

“If I get up, will you still be mad at me?” Marvin says in a rasp, voice still groggy from just waking.

Part of Whizzer wants to make a jab at how his dick must’ve took a number on Marvin’s throat last night, most of him wants to ask Marvin where Trina thinks he is.

Whizzer does neither.

“Dunno,” he averts his gaze, still indignant. “Does it really matter if I was? ’S not like I’m your problem or anything?”

Marvin winces, but Whizzer just gets up, doesn’t want to have this conversation now. He wants everything to be light and easy and he wants them to go hiking as planned and then out to lunch with the lesbians next door and just do all the things they were suppose to. He doesn’t want to have this conversation now, and doesn’t want to hear Marvin’s excuses, doesn’t think he can handle it.

“Whizzer, he says, pleading. He doesn’t say sweetheart, that’s for soft moments between them in the middle of the night, or when he’s feeling particularly playful. This right now, this is neither. 

“I’ve gotta take the dog     out for a walk.”

“Whizzer, don’t be like this.” He doesn’t say it cruelly in Marvin standards, but it makes Whizzer angry all the same.

“Be like  what!” He pivots around, fists clenched and scowl melted onto his features. 

“You knew my prerogative from the start! I’m a father-“

“And I’m a fucking person! People get hurt when the person their in love with, the person they’ve spent literal months of their lives  with! Goes ahead and belittles all they have, making it seem like we’re shit.”

Marvin’s face goes pained, he steps closer to Whizzer, hands outstretched and open, helpless looking. 

Whizzer doesn’t let him apologize again, because he’s right. Whizzer knew how Marvin viewed this relationship. How Whizzer’s nothing more than a side piece to Marvin’s tight nit family. Whizzer knows it, had known it. He was perfectly fine with it because he’s never been the settling down type, never had a monogamous relationship for longer than a few weeks. 

Whizzer knew all of Marvin’s hangups  and he thought that he could’ve handle it. Whizzer was accustomed in having a relationship without anyone else really knowing about it. He thought he could do that with Marvin, but then he fell in love with Marvin in ways he never had been before— he gave Marvin pieces of himself that he never gave to anyone else. So yeah, it hurts like hell when Marvin says shit like he wouldn’t consider them parters. 

It makes Whizzer immeasurably mad and frustrated, especially when he has the nagging suspicion that he wouldn’t be this steadfast about staying with Trina  if it were a woman he was in love with over Whizzer being a gay dude. 

“Sweetheart, Whizzer. Please, just tell me what I can do. I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what to do here.” Marvin sounds desperate, looks even more so as he interlaces their hands together, shaking and unsure.

“I think we should take a break.” Whizzer doesn’t know where the idea came from, but it feels right, even if it hurts him like nothing else seeing Marvin’s face crumple and the light in his pretty eyes flicker out.

.-

It’s almost a year since their break was made official. 

Whizzer’s gotten a promotion, works at a magazine where he gets to travel all over the states to take photos of different festivals and landmarks and people, while getting paid for it. He gets to sleep with men from all walks of life, and it’s fun, and it’s free and there’s no heaviness to his heart— at least, not when he’s distracting himself from thoughts of Marvin’s half grin or his well built arms. How even the most drab outfits looked glorious on his Greek god body.

He still keeps in touch with Cordelia, is ecstatic when he finds out that Charlotte had proposed. And sometimes, if she slips in little details about Marvin, Whizzer isn’t upset.

“He looks sad, sadder than usual, ever since you left,” Cordelia had told him through the line, and Whizzer can practically see her twisting her fingers through the chord.

“I’m sad too Lia,” Whizzer admits in one of his sparing moments of raw honesty.

“Then come home Whizzer, we miss you. Marvin misses you, it’s not as if he’s been taken by any other fella.”

Whizzer can practically hear his lofty voice sniffing that it’s simply pointless because he loves Whizzer, knows that they’re the endgame, even if he’s married to another. 

Whenever he said that— in the all too frequent conversations they’ve actually held in the past two years—  Whizzer always wanted to just scream at him for not being as confident when they were together. For not taking a fucking stand.  But then again, it’s not as if they were ever not together either…

They still called one another  at least once a week, exchanging stories and bouncing banter while Marvin sifted through whatever paperwork he still had to get done, and Whizzer was cooking himself a meal. The way they use to while playing chess after a particularly long day. Cordelia and Charlotte  still contacted Whizzer on a daily basis, still expected him to join them for the holidays that year, of course along with Marvin. Whizzer still checked up on Marvin, made sure that he wasn’t over working himself and was keeping up  a normal persons diet. Reminded him that he never had to prove anything to anyone, that he was always amazing. And if they were in the same city by circumstance, they still kissed and fucked and clung onto one another like the world depended  on it. 

Whizzer would’ve never been able to let go of him, if even partly.

.-

It’s Jason’s Bar Mitzvah.

Somehow, someway, Whizzer’s here.

He knows that the real reason is because Jason had actually been quite taken with Whizzer when they were all playing the ploy that Whizzer was still only Marvin’s friend from work. But a part of Whizzer likes to think that it was also partially because Marvin missed his face.

After hours of dancing and laughing and trying his hardest to avoid Trina’s far too introspective gaze, Whizzer’s finally sitting down for a break.

“Whizzer, You made it!” Marvin crows, collecting him in his arms for a far too friendly hug, as if Marvin paid no mind to the array of spectators surrounding them and the rumors they could stir up.

“Of course,” Whizzer responded, squeezing him tight before abruptly letting go. “I love Jason, so I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Marvin beams with the same glee from before coloring his baritone.

“I’m here,” Whizzer repeats, voice thick with an emotion he can’t parse out. “Oh erm, Have Charlotte or Cordelia caught you yet? They wanted your opinion on the hors d’oeuvres.”  

Marvin shakes his head, eyes glimmering with mirth, before he retorts.

 “I just want to be with you if that’s alright?”

It feels like something completely wonderful is blooming deep in Whizzer’s chest, god please don’t let him make the same mistake.

“Yeah, yeah of course. That’s alright.”

.-

For the umpteenth time in their relationship  they end the night in some bedroom, with their all too eager  hands padding up and down one another’s bodies, and exchanging kisses that taste like lilac skies and promises meant to be kept. 

Whizzer pulls back to shed off his shirt, blushes at the unguarded, vulnerable way Marvin’s gazing at him. 

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” Whizzer echoes, because that was something else they never quit during this little break of theirs. “Now you really wanna keep talking or…?”

“Whizzer, I love you,” Marvin repeats, more urgent and voice shed of all it’s familiar lilts. He grabs for Whizzer’s hand and squeezes tight. “I love you and I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

It feels like Whizzer’s stomach falls out, and his heart contracts.

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Marvin tells him, determined. 

“That’s not much of an answer.” Whizzer points out.

“I’ve left my wife, I’ve left for you. We’re getting a divorce.”

“What,” Whizzer marvels, but doesn’t let Marvin explain it any further. He kisses him again, and again and again.

Yeah maybe that proclamation doesn’t answer all the unknowns, but it’s enough. 

They’re still both too stubborn for their own good. Marvin can be a pompous ass and Whizzer to detached. But Marvin’s here, and Whizzer loves him more than he knows what to do with most days.

That’s enough.

[karuframe]

Yooooo i saw your tags on that post saying there werent many ship fans in warframe and i was curious what your favorite ships are!! I havent seen anyone else that ships stuff before. Theres almost no warframe fanfiction out there and its kind of hard to find people to talk to about it with that dont just want to talk about builds and stats ^w^

yeah there’s barely any fanfiction or fanart with this topic. to be fair, the warframe story is not really asking for this sort of content and you have to be quite creative and twist the story around to be able to do so, so i’m not surprised, but still it feels a bit lonely at time.i’ve explored some ships and dynamics in my casualframe/humanframe sets and headcanons, there’s more to come, but anyway, i will share some of those i put a bit thought into (take into consideration that everyone interprets the frames differently)!!WARNING FOR DORKY HEADCANONS INCOMING!!

VOLT X BANSHEE-best friends, swaggers, bros-volt flirts around a lot and never scores, banshee crushes on volt-banshee spends most time with their squad (octavia,nyx,nezha,loki)-banshee’s always there for him and to pretend that he’s not a glam loser-eventually volt realizes that he enjoys being with banshee the most and they become a thing

ASH X LOKI-Ash is very distant and introverted, spends most of his time training and meditating-Loki always needs to be everywhere, needs others to like him which in most cases they do, except Ash-Loki gets curious about Ash’s dissapearances and follows him into the dojo where he just stealthily watches him until he’s being pointed out-Ash finds Loki too loud, irresponsible, distracting and annoying and yet he never tells him off-thanks to Ash not liking Loki immediately, he sets it as a personal goal-Ash never seems to be caring for Loki much but when Loki gets himself in a dangerous situation, it’s Ash’s priority to get him out-eventually after Loki proves himself just as worthy, Ash finds pride in having him by his side-Loki cools down a bit and together they give off yakuza powercouple vibes

MESA X TRINITY-amazing synergy on the battlefield and off of it-mesa is very hard on herself-trinity is very patient and loving-both are protecting each other more than themselves-mesa feels like she’s not deserving of trinity but for sure won’t say no to the opportunity-trinity is a pacifist but she’d kill for mesa-mesa loves practicing with ash- both likes pushing their limits- trinity then has some bandaging to do on her-mesa visits vauban from time to time for gun augmentation-trinity is helping/nursing people in her free time

RHINO X NYX-the muscle and the mind-rhino is excal’s right hand man and he spends most time with him-nyx is part of the young’uns squad and spends most time with them or sleeping-they are very casual together-no one knows how they even got together it jsut sort of happened-rhino never lost the pink glasses, even though nyx is a sloppy couch potato gremlin-nyx is the boss-nyx tries to look unimpressed of having the hot kind beefy bf

EXCALIBUR X VALKYR-Excal used to spend the most time with Mag, Volt, Rhino and Frost before-after being chosen as the leader, he took huge amount of responsibility while making Rhino his right hand man-working more with all the frames, he faces the tough task of making all these different characters work together in unity - one of the more problematic ones being Valkyr-Excal takes extra time off to make a personal visit to Valkyr’s quarters to try and let her trust him more-she doesn’t let him at first, but even though he has no experience of dealing with someone so unstable and skittish, he finds a way of making her feel calm and secure-he keeps an extra eye on her in battle and pays her compliments about her skills afterwards-to show her his trust in her, he makes her his right hand woman as well after taking few of her concerns and ideas and decissions more than into consideration -Rhino being the voice of reason and Valkyr trusting her senses and taking risks is a perfect balance between setting Excal on the right path

SARYN / LIMBO-saryn- single by choice / limbo- single NOT by a choice-strong independent saryn who needs no partner / weak dependent limbo who desperatedly wants a laid-saryn- very desired / limbo- gentleman with no game-she doesn’t mind the attention but she makes it obvious that she’s not interested / he craves the attention and is oblivious to people not being interested-saryn- the hot mom of the team / limbo - the wine uncle of the team

NEKROS X OBERON (X NIDUS)-(lots of nekobe HCs i got from lotusshim554 so go check their stuff out!)-Nekros joined later and Oberon was one of the first frames he met; fell in love immediately-Nekros tries too hard, Oberon plays hard to get/isn’t interested-Oberon uses Nekros as an easy “deal with” his heat without any deeper meaning, although Nekros groes even more attached - thinks they are a thing-Oberon enjoys reading or spending time with other mature calm frames, while Nekros tries to be everywhere where he is, just in case-Oberon is sent on a solo mission where he is met with Nidus who he brings back-Nidus has been isolated for too long and lacks lots of manners and empathy, although is very attractive and dangerous looking; catching Oberon’s attention-Oberon clings to Nidus more than he ever showed interested in Nekros and Nidus uses that against Nekros-Nidus, just like Mirage, starts to subvert harmony within the frames for selfish joy-On a mission with these three only, Oberon is facing a decission to help one of those two-Oberon chooses Nekros-Nekros helps Nidus even after everything-after they are back safe and sound, Nidus is locked and watched over, Oberon is coming to terms that after all he chose Nekros and Nekros is in seventh heaven-they become a thing

EMBER X NEZHA-Nezha often catches Ember not keeping her eyes off him which both scares and flatters him-Ember is a known badass tough punk lady, saying it as it is, picking up on people twice her size, not afraid of fight-Nezha is very much aware of fight, very impressionable, feels confident only amongst his friends-Ember is the first one to approach Nezha, she is very casual and straight-to-the-point about stuff she wants-Ember is very grabby and terrirotial of things that are hers-even after being a thing, Nezha’s not sure if he’s aroused or terrified

VAUBAN X NOVA-”sugar daddy” vauban, “petite doll” nova-vauban spends most of his alone time planning and working on tech-nova is paegant girl, scared, unaware of her own potential-nova doesn’t feel good in the company of the other frames, therefore she quietly spends time with vauban in his workplace-vauban teaching curious nova about his creations-nova visting is part of the routine now and vauban makes little gifts for her in exchange

KHORA X HYDROID-the kinky couple-both are very mature, classy and dangerous looking-lots of innuendos-”open” relationship where they are together for the physical aspect of it and for the power couple realness, but neither have problem with the other branching out-khora is desired by many and sometimes gives in to some poor loser’s fantasies-with hydroid’s pirate nature, he really cannot be trusted, yet both him and khora know each other’s game

OCTAVIA X BANSHEE X VOLT X NYX X NEZHA-the young’uns squad-volt the fuckboi leader-banshee the quiet empathic one-octavia the loud diva-nyx the genius sloppy drunk-nezha the hyperactive optimistic one-sometimes includes loki or equinox

OBERON X TITANIA-older brother and younger sister-titania is the more bossy and overprotective one-even though Oberon takes his team as his family, Titania will always come first-Oberon is both her teacher and protector, while Titania gives him courage and talks (yells) sense to him when he gets lost

there were other ships i considered like Mag x Frost, Titania x Ivara,Nidus x Mirage, but i’d stick with those above I’ve mentioned, not everyone has to be paired up and if new dynamic comes to me, i may add to this!

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Future Diary, Episodes 18-20

Oh Christ. Well, it’s official, this show has completely imploded. Goodbye, Future Diary. It was nice knowing you.

Full Guilty Crown

You know, I’ve complained about this show a lot over the course of writing about it. I’ve picked apart flaws big and small, dug through every nook and cranny of my issues with it, and just generally gave it a rough time. Yet the odd thing is, I still wanted to keep watching. For as dull and annoying as Future Diary got, I was always, at the very least, intrigued to see what it was all building towards. There’s a kind of perverse fascination about knowing that the future holds only suffering yet not knowing how that suffering will play out. Surely there still had to be a plan, right? And against my better judgement, I wanted to see what that plan would be. For as bad as this show can get, it never quite managed to lose me.

That all changed the second a newly parent-less Yukki swaggered into a meeting with Old Deus with Yuno as a trophy on his arm and proceeded to rattle off the single most fuckboi obnoxious vindictive smackdown of his opponents that I’ve ever seen.

Wow. Holy fuck, wow. Those of you who were around for my Guilty Crown binge-watch aaaaaall the way back when I was first starting out might remember a moment in the back half of the show (spoilers, but honestly, Guilty Crown is shit, so who cares) when the protagonist Shu, a quiet and miserable Shinji Ikari type, loses a friend at the end of one episode, and in the very next episode he’s transformed into an edgy, brooding fascist dictator who rules his classmates with a glowering iron fist because he’s so dark and tortured and isn’t it badass how he’s suffering and scowling? Yeah, that’s real darkness, bro! Well, no, it was not real darkness, it was a shockingly dumbass complete reversal on his character that officially made me give up on the show entirely. It was so utterly transparent and overblown in its attempt to inject unearned angst into the show, so bafflingly mishandled and unjustified, that it fractured whatever limited faith I might have still had at that point. Watching Shu slog through monologues about how dark and tortured he is while his meat sack girlfriend Inori gives him a shoulder to lean on, like we’re supposed to be sympathetic to this pathetic excuse of a broken character, was legitimately one of the most agonizing experiences I’ve ever had watching anime, a textbook example of bad edge in its true, un-self-aware form. It was the anime equivalent of angry nerds screaming about how The Last Jedi killed their childhood: an utterly immature garbage fire that is only made more insultingly painful by how seriously it expects you to take it.

And of all the directions I expected Future Diary to go in, I did not expect it to copy Guilty Crown’s biggest mistake. But here we are once again: the introverted, soft-spoken protagonist transforms into a swaggering jackass in the space between two episodes, and the show expects you to buy that shift as face value. Oh, Yukki’s a badass now! He’s all cool and calculating and he just betrayed the nice woman, isn’t he daaaaaark! Look at him, ordering his girl around like a stud (and fucking hell, our pink-haired Yuno’s even wearing the same kind of black slinky dress that Inori wore at this point, as if the parallels weren’t already eerie enough)! Look at him, shooting down goons like a stone-cold killer! Look at him driving like a badass even though he isn’t old enough to get a license! Look at how edgy and gritty and so eeeeevil he is and Jesus fucking Christ this is so fucking dumb. Fuck, what is it about bad “dark” shows that makes them think they con completely 180 their protagonist in the space between two episodes and get away with it? How does nobody writing this shit realize how contrived and moronic it comes off? Yeah, I might not have liked the old sniveling, cowardly Yukki that much, but to see him suddenly turn into an outright alpha douchebag? Gag me with a fucking spoon.

I cannot stress enough how completely this car crash of a character swerve has destroyed my faith in Future Diary. Any hope I had of a possible redemption? Gone. Any interest I had in seeing how it all plays out? Shattered. There’s no returning from a plot jump this bone-headed, this obnoxious, and this moronic. Future Diary, you are officially dead to me. You’ve finally crashed and burned in a fiery heap. And I still have six more episodes to get through. I just hope they don’t scald quite as hard on the way down.

Everything is Meaningless

And lest you think I’m being too harsh about completely writing this show off following this poor excuse for shock value, the negative ripple effects are already apparent in the fabric of the show, as the writing just goes completely off the rails and loses any sense of emotional coherency. Yeah, the logic of this show has always been incredibly bad, but something about this set of flubs feels especially meaningless. I could barely even follow the weird shifting alliances between Yukki, Yuno, Eight, Eleventh, Ninth, that one police guy who’s always following her, and everyone else thrown in for good measure. I never got a sense of why anyone was allying with anyone else, what everyone even expected from each other, or why I should care now that everyone (with the possible exception of Ninth) is either too boring or too annoying to root for anymore. Nothing ever feels justified by the emotions of the plot. Nishijima proposed to Ninth out of fucking nowhere and I’m supposed to buy it because... he accidentally groped her in a flashback ten episodes ago, I guess. Not like we’ve been given any reason to care about their bond in the present, but whatever, guess there had to be some reason we’re supposed to feel sad when he’s gunned down, even if Ninth gets over it just as quickly as I did. Eleventh is apparently the creator of the game in the first place, which is weird because why would the creator be allowed to play his own game and how did he even contact Deus to make the diaries in the first place, but whatever, I guess that’s a thing now. And that “whatever” is exactly how this entire stretch of episodes feels; like the show just threw up its hands, said “whatever”, and farted out its remaining content onto screen and called it a day.

And then there’s the death of Daddy Dio. If you want a perfect representation of just how meaningless this show has gotten, this would be it. Yukki’s father suddenly feels guilty for stabbing his wife after showing no sign of it last time, and Yukki forgives him just like that because he brought a telescope, and they’re already talking about living together once he’s served his time, because I guess living with the guy who left you for dead and killed your mom is totally cool, but then it doesn’t matter because we were just putting in the token effort to make his dad seem likable again before killing him and giving Yukki an excuse to hulk out and turn into Douchebag Extraordinaire. And it’s all so... effortless. There’s no effort to make anyone emotions believable or relatable, there’s no effort to earn this redemption and tragic death, there’s not enough humanity to make up for how completely this character was fucked over, and it’s all just tossed on screen and left to lie there and rot like fish in the sun. Hell, I was actually kind of getting behind angry, vengeful Yukki prepared to make the bastard pay for killing his mom, because that at least had the chance to be interesting, but apparently Future Diary thought it wise to turn away from the road ahead and crash face-first into a dead end instead. If only the resulting car fire were any interesting to look at.

Who is Yuno Gasai?

Amidst all this frustrating, off-putting failure, it barely even registers that the mystery of Yuno Gasai that’s been hanging over the proceedings is starting to get answered. Honestly, though, at this point, I have completely lost hope in the reveal somehow being worthwhile. I can’t think of a single possible outcome that won’t be just as contrived and forehead-smack-inducing as the rest of the mess Future Diary as become. Which sucks, because the brief backstory we get into her past- her parents were strict and controlling to the point of being abusive, so she killed them for her own safety- is easily the best part of these episodes, even if it still doesn’t answer what makes Yukki, of all people, the object of her mindless affections (or, as she puts it, “the only person who can save me from my despair). It’s delivered with an understated tinge, secure in the knowledge that we easily could have pieced together why Yuno might want her parents dead and it just needed to fill in the details, the one bit of storytelling that actually felt purposeful and confident in itself. It was quietly tragic, in a way, with a kind of subtlety that no longer seems possible from Future Diary. Such a shame it was confined to the past.

At any rate, though, we’ve gotten our first big reveal as to just what the fuck’s going on with Yuno, because now we know who the third body she buried was: none other than Yuno Gasai. Which means the person we now know as Yuno is an imposter of some kind. She was adopted by her parents as well, though the significance of that point isn’t clear as of yet. The question is, why take on this role? What does she hope to achieve? Does it have anything to do with Yukki? When did she even kill the real Yuno in the first place, and how does that affect our understanding of this timeline? Most importantly, though, will I end up caring about any of these answers? Probably not, but oh well. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Odds and Ends

-”Baaaaaaka.” mjskdhaksd I don’t think that was supposed to be funny

-Okay but why does Wakaba look exactly like Yukki’s mom

-”What’s wrong with that rabbit?” Not a question I expected to hear asked today, in all honesty.

-”But...” pfft. Okay, the failure to get on the step the first time was a nice touch.

-”How was my acting?” Very cringey, asshole.

-Hellooooooo inopportune fanservice! So much for that dramatic moment.

-”Marry him? How would that work?” KJASDHAKSJD HOLY SHIT SHE’S AS CONFUSED AS I AM

-Um, what even was that cut? Dude bombs the tower, and then suddenly, he and Ninth are outside and far away? What a weird and off-putting timeskip.

-Not gonna lie, I’d appreciate a future blog myself. Save my wrists the trouble of actually transcribing my thoughts for me.

-”It’s a loving journal about Hinata growing up.” OH JUST KISS ALREADY

-”This used to be my blog! I’m used to writing lies!” Oh, Kousaka.

-So, how exactly do a couple of schoolkids get their hands on machine guns?

Oof, that was painful. Just two more sessions to go, though; I think I can make it. See you next time!

[nc-ten-scenarios]

My type | Lee Taeyong

Hi! I want to request a f*ckboy type scenario with Taeyong! Thanks~

~Nik

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ reader pov This was not my style. At. All.The party was in full swing, bodies dancing, sexual tension, alcohol circling, and loud music-all provided by Odessa aka the nct frat boy house. The house itself was impressive and it wasn’t a surprise that it became a party house frequented by the boys who called themselves nct. I wasn’t close to many of them, but I knew of them. The infamous group was all the gossip among both gender groups. Of course not one, but two members from the group had begged me to join them at this party, Johnny and Doyoung were those two idiots. Of course there’s the rest of nct consisting of Yuta, WinWin, Jaehyun, Taeil, Hansol, Ten, Kun, Lucas, and Lee Taeyong. Now I say Lee Taeyong because he’s probably the most infamous one of them all-at least in my opinion. Lee Taeyong, 21 Years old, with the worlds most intimidating gaze, and sultry eyes that can have any girls or guys knees weak with one look. He was definitely hot and he also knew it and used that to his advantage. Girls through themselves at him from left and right. He was with one girl one day and another the next. He’d text multiple girls the same same cliche ‘sweet’ messages. I guarantee if I looked up fuckboy in any dictionary a picture of Lee Taeyong would show up.Don’t get me wrong each boy is the same way. They’d probably all be stacked in the dictionary under the fuckboy definition as well. Even Johnny and Doyoung. Both boys were odd beings of course. Under the charismatic character of the two, there was the giant squirrel and the adorable bunny boy’s that had become my best friends at this school. So how on earth did they drag me here?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was currently 8:32 and I was very very bored. As soon as Johnny and Doyoung had dragged me into the house the two boys disappeared within two seconds flat, I’m not joking. Poof, gonzo into the crowd of sweaty college students attempting to get it on. I was more on an observer rather than and engager and I’ve got to say many of these dance moves were quite….interesting. I’ve seen the dances go from swaying to jumping up and down to gangnam style to a twisted version of dance dance revolution. It was wild and I wanted no part of it.

Currently, I was perched against the wall, watching amused as Johnny bounced around from group to group, greeting everyone in such an eccentric action that only belonged to Johnny. I had my arms crossed as my right leg was propped against the wall just watching said boy have an unlimited supply of energy. “Yah! Come on y/n don’t be a loner come dance with me!” Speak of the devil.I shook my head a smile playing at my nude covered lips. I watched as he pouted. I quickly covered my eyes shouting, “Not the pout!” Next thing you know Johnny bounded up to me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out into the crowd and began dancing to Jay Parks “Mommae”. I laughed as Johnny pulled his ‘swagger’ moves out and motioned for me to do the same. I sighed dramatically before breaking out into dance just in time for the chorus to kick in. People all around us cheered and began to mimic our moves as I twirled laughing. After a few songs I felt my body begging for a break. “Yo seo-squirrel!” On cue his head snapped toward me.“I’m gonna go get a drink from the kitchen k?” I shouted and he sent me the okay sign back before I spun around and made my way into the kitchen. I wrinkled my noise at the obvious spiked punch bowl and spun toward the overly large nct fridge in search for something that wouldn’t cause me to regret every decision from tonight.“Okay milk? Nah. Orange juice? Maybe. What’s in the jug? Oh! That’s sick! Okay so water it is then-”“Need some help? I snapped upright so quick jumping with a small yelp before snapping my head to the source to my left only to see the one and only Jung Jaehyun smiling cheekily at me with his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall conveniently next to the fridge.

“Don’t do that.” I muttered hand over my heart, feeling it beating wildly under my palm. Jaehyun chuckled. He. Chuckled. The freaking nerve of this boy. I huffed glaring at him before raising my hand, balling it into a fist and throwing a jab at his body part closest to me. Whcoh happened to be his arm. “Ow! Jesus okay sorry sorry. Note to self don’t scare y/n ever.” He hissed rubbing his arm. I huffed at him before I scanned the contents of the fridge again with distaste. “Hey y/n I got a delicious drink just for you.” I would’ve believed him if he didn’t have the smallest mischievous smirk playing on his lips. I glared at him and he pushed me back and reached into the fridge pulling out the mysterious and disgusting looking jug from just a few minutes ago. He held it up cheekily as my nose wrinkled did I leaned away from it as if it was the plague, probably was.“Oh come on y/n! Just try it! I wouldn’t poison you you know.” Sadly I didn’t believe him and neither did the other person who just walked into the room. “I wouldn’t be too sure Jaehyun. Now leave the girl alone she obviously isn’t into you. There’s plenty of other girls in the den why don’t you go on the prowl for one?” Of course Lee Taeyong just had to appear. “What if I want this one though? Ever thought about that?” Oh please even I knew I wasn’t Jaehyun’s type. Sure he’d taken a liking to me as friends. This marshmallow considered me his sister and nothing more.

Taeyong chuckled as he pushed off the doorway and sauntered further into the kitchen. “Jaehyun everyone knows you aren’t interested in her in that way. Besides she’s more of my type anyway so shoo.” Taeyong’ eyes followed Jaehyun’s form until he disappeared through the doorway and then he sauntered to the fridge and dug around before pulling out a single punch of Capri-sun.

He spun on his heel and held it out to me with an eyebrow raised. I slowly took the drink from him with a quiet ‘thank you’ before he nodded and dug around some more, turning his back to me. Taeyong was dressed in a pair of black ripped jeans that outlined his legs perfectly. He matched a gray muscle tank, showing off his muscular, tanned arms and his messy black hair was covered by a SnapBack put on backwards. I admit he looked good. Hella good. And it was in that exact moment that he turned around, his own Capri-sun in his hand, to catch me staring at him.

A smirk crawled onto his lips and his tongue ran over his lips slowly. “We’re you checking me out?” Holy shit his voice was so husky and dare I say, sexy. I gulped slightly as I watched him sip at his drink before I scoffed. “Oh please in your dreams.” I snapped back watching as he raised an eyebrow and set his Capri-sun down and pushed off the wall and stalked closer to me. “You are in my dreams and this must be a dream because you most definitely checked me out.” He whispered his voice dropping an octave. “Admit it you think I’m hot y/n.” He whispered inches away from me, like a predator stalking his prey, aka me. I gulped before standing up straight meeting his dark brown irises. “You are just a player who has slept with half the girls on campus. You don’t seriously think that will roll with me do you?” I hissed. He cocked his head to the side, eyes darkening. He took another step forward, large palms resting on the cool surface of the counter trapping me between. “You think I’ve slept with all these girls? Baby you have no idea what I do or who I do, but I’d gladly do you.”

~Nik

[fantasysuiteleague]

Week 2 Recap: The Three Ds

Is it just me or does it always seems like The Bachelorette gets a shitty draw of contestants? Each year there are at most 3 guys I would take home to meet my parents, maybe one worth actually marrying, and the rest are all that terrible guy you see on TV and hope you never meet in real life. They only care about themselves and what makes them look good or what will get them the most screen time. This season, with its new colors and Blachelorette, is no different. At most we’ve added an extra amount of swagger, but with that swagger comes an added level of douchebaggery that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

D is for Doggo

This episode highlighted 3 of the worst people we’ve met since Chad, and one precious angel who is too pure to be around any of this mess. That’s right, I’m talking about Copper. That precious baby with the broken toe who stole Bachelor Nation’s heart. Not only did he get his own limo entrance, but he also went on the first and best 1-on-1 date of the season, accompanying Rachel and Peter to a DOG PARTY. I can’t say I paid much attention to Rachel and Peter, as I was focused solely on Copper and all the ways I could pet him and be his best friend.

The only thing I took away from the 1-on-1 date was that Peter and Rachel bonded over the gap in their teeth, and that Rachel doesn’t seem to mind that Peter is dead in the eyes. Something’s off about him, but it looks like he’ll stick around for awhile so I’ll come back to him when the meat isn’t as fresh.

D is for Douchebags

The first group date of the season is very on-brand for the Bachelorette: a low key picnic with ... an obstacle course and celebrity sighting. The picnic is set up in what I assume to be a vacant lot three spaces down from the Bachelor mansion, where everyone takes turns grilling and playing touch football. Right off the bat it’s hard not to focus on the douche of the century, Whaboom. Everything he does is for attention. He pushes other guys around so he can be the “first” to say hi to Rachel, he obnoxiously dances around the football, shouts constantly, and even picks Rachel up at one point and spins her around like a Disney Princess. It’s not hard to see that Lucas is, in the words of Blake: garbage. The other guys question his personality traits and whether he’s here for the right reasons simply because he is TERRIBLE.  He’s not even trying to fight with anyone, he’s just being himself, which is absolute garbage. Fun fact: My friend was in the same frat as Whaboom at Berkley and said that he is, hands down, the absolute worst person he has ever met in his life—next to his twin brother.  That’s right, there are two of these assholes. 

He also told me that Lucas was constantly trying to be the center of attention and was always making loud obnoxious jokes or trying to steal the stage but NO ONE thought he was funny. Some quick sleuthing on the interwebs brought me to his IMDB page, which honestly says it all. I mean, a 2012 Spanish dating show? God what a fucking loser. But his “rival” Blake is no better, and we need to unpack both of these shitty bags of garbage to really get down to their trash core. In a voice-over, Blake mentions that he knows Whaboom and is the only person that can “ruin this” for him. Well first of all, Whaboom doesn’t need anyone’s help ruining anything. Second, Blake knows the true garbage nature of Whaboom because they were both on a trashy reality TV dating show hosted by Carmen Electra. Yep, that’s right. Garbage, meet Garbage. Oh, you already met on the Ex-Isle? Perfect. Let’s skip the pleasantries, and the entire obstacle course while we’re at it. That way we can also skip over Blake whining the entire time that Lucas is cheating and not following directions, and Lucas winning then attempting to get Ashton Kutcher to yell “whaboom.” To literally everyone’s relief, Ashton politely passes on the offer, as he should have with My Boss’s Daughter / Just Married / Killers / basically all movies he’s ever done.

No really, name a good Ashton Kutcher movie. You can’t, because there are none. Anyway, since Whaboom won the competition he got the first 1-on-1 time with Rachel. Blake takes this opportunity to let everyone know that, to the extent they hadn’t figured it out yet, Whaboom is a douchebag. Blake, it is the first fucking week. Chill the fuck out man. When Lucas gets back to the perfectly stirred pot, he’s confronted with the question of our generation: how do you identify yourself? The correct answer, of course, was garbage, but we would have also accepted trash. Speaking of trash, Blake continues his crusade against Whaboom by informing Rachel that, to the extent she is both blind and deaf, Lucas is just a clown here for TV exposure. Like any guy NOT trying to get TV exposure, Blake then goes and tells Lucas that he just spent his time with Rachel letting her know that Whaboom is wearing makeup and is here for the wrong reasons. 

At this point it’s pretty clear that Blake is also here for the wrong reasons and obsessed with Lucas, who may or may not be totally wasted. It’s hard to tell, because he’s just that terrible. In the end, Whaboom walks away the winner of this confrontation after he tells Blake he’s going to do “him” and that Blake is “dismissed.” Point, Garbage. I can’t really tell you what else happened on this date due to the overpowering stench of Garbage, but everyone else was so boring that the 20-year-old Ricky Fowler look alike, Dean, got the group date rose. Good for you, Dean.

D is for Drama

The second group date the guys get a considerably better draw with a game of pick up basketball monitored by Kareem Abdul Jabar. DeMario is the focus of this date, which I wanted to attribute to his charisma fuckboi charm and casual ability to dunk a basketball. But something doesn’t feel right about this spotlight and even though deep down I know why, I think and hope that maybe, just maybe, it’s not him. It’s like when you’re watching a Law & Order SVU episode and it’s definitely the dad, but it feels way too obvious to actually be the dad, so instead you convince yourself its the neighbor but like, it was always the dad.  It was always DeMario. Always. You don’t get this kind of attention in a group date when there are previews of a scorned lover confronting her man unless it’s your scorned lover. Enter Lexi, the girl who DeMario was allegedly fucking days before he went on ATFR and met Rachel. Before she even opened her mouth I could tell from her eyebrows that this girl was trash and was ready to shamelessly take down the Big D. The build up to this drama is great. After being summoned by Rachel, DeMario is convinced he’s getting the rose and walks gleefully back into the gym talking about what he learned playing the game until he saw cash me ousside girl waiting for him.

DeMario’s face quickly goes from happy to freaked out to “confused.” He immediately launches into fuckboi defensive mode and makes a series of moves that only digs him deeper into the pit of despair.

Move 1: Pretend like you have no idea who this girl is and that you’ve never seen her before. Obviously this is NOT the right way to go, but you have to give him partial credit if only because I would also deny knowing (let alone fucking) someone that trashy. This obviously doesn’t work as she’s tracked him down, so it’s on to the next move.

Move 2: This girl is fucking crazy, and we met “many many times ago.” Um, what? Thankfully Rachel is smarter than to buy into the “she’s crazy” excuse that’s constantly applied to women by the patriarchy. Instead, she asks for clarification on what “many times ago” means, and at this point the Big D starts to sweat.

Move 3: Claim that this is personal stuff that we should handle off-camera. This was an obvious misstep that sent Lexi into a rage about unanswered text messages and fucking her 2 days before he went on ATFR. Rachel keeps it classy, however, pointing out that this is also her personal life so DeMario really needs to explain himself.

Move 4: Admit he dated her, but claim that he broke up with her because she was “too much” to handle, circling back to the old “she’s crazy” thesis. DeMario tries to suggest that he broke up with Lexi face to face, but then Lexi starts shouting about how he still has her keys... 

Move 5: Keys? What keys? I don’t  have your keys..... Oh, wait. I actually mailed them back to you. As if this mother fucker has ever been to the post office. At this point DeMario has to know that he’s totally fucked and should probably just leave before he says anything else. But he doesn’t. Instead, he continues trying to downplay what Lexi is saying until finally Rachel tells him he’s not making any sense and she just wants to know when was the last time he saw Lexi.

Check: Lexi stops swearing on her kittens’ lives long enough to offer up the receipts to prove not just her side of the story, but the exact date and time when Demario was last in and out of her...apartment. Before Rachel accepts any documents into evidence, she gives DeMario one last chance to say literally anything that isn’t a lie and asks if the dates on Lexi’s phone will match his story or hers....

Move 6: It depends on the dates...

Checkmate: Finally at the end of her rope, Rachel takes Lexi’s phone (which I imagine smells like cigarettes) and reads the standard fuckboi texts we all knew DeMario sent. Rachel calmly informs DeMario that she is not here to be played or to be made a joke of, so he can get the fuck out.

In the aftermath of the DeMario drama everyone starts whispering about how DeMario was obviously not there for the right reasons when, in reality, they are all there for the same reason: fame. DeMario was just sloppier about it. The remaining guys on the date all use this as an opportunity to let Rachel know they’re there “for her” and will “protect her” from this kind of behavior. Josiah flexes his protection muscles the most with his... creepy side eye stare and ends up getting the group date rose. We don’t get too far into the cocktail party before the ghost of DeMario comes knocking at the gates of The Bachelor mansion to prove once and for all that D is for determination dumbass.

Did you notice . . .

Ashton knew when he “first saw” Mila that they would get married ... after he married Demi Moore and played dad for a few years, of course.

“This is not a show. When I want to turn it on, I turn it off. When I want to turn it off, I turn it off.” - ummm that’s a show, Lucas.

Curious that Lucas and Blake hate each other so much yet look like pals in this picture from 2016....(also, the hastags...)

“I check my mailbox every day.” - Lexi, lol.

OF COURSE her name is Lexi with an I.

I could do without Alex’s singing, especially as it’s likely a trigger for the Russian Manchurian Candidate, Jared Kushner.

Minority Report: The most embarrassing part of the whole DeMario saga is that before the Bachelorette he was dating white trash like Lexi.

[sparklieststeph]

Prince "Xiuo" Reaper - English accent, male - Xiuo is the main character with a very posh accent. Think Hermione Granger, but male. At the same time, he's still a teenager, so he isn't stuck-up. His nickname is pronounced She-oh. He has a lot of dialogue, and a lot of it expresses pain. Be prepared to make your voice crack up for the effect of crying, sounds of pain, and occasionally putting on a seductive tone. This accent stays this way well into the book, and doesn't fade until very close to the end.

- Example Dialogue:

"My name’s Prince, but people ‘ere just call me Xiuo.” (friendly tone) "A.. c-car accident.. What a shittay way to die.. Mum should’ve died in ‘er sleep.. and dad of somethin’ epic like.. lightnin’.. like ‘e wanted.. and not so soon.. not so.. s-soon..” (somber tone) "'ello, Queen of the School. ‘aving a good day so far?” (cheerful tone)

Xavier Reaper - Slightly nerdy voice, male - Xavier is the twin brother of the main character who hides his English accent. He can be given a nerdy tone, or just normal. He's very awkward and nervous, so don't forget that. He doubts a lot of the supernatural things that happen in the story. He's romantically involved with Mei Lin, which means at points dialogue will only be between him and her, and occasionally you'll have to work with who voices her in order to line up the dialogue you say at the same time.

- Example Dialogue:

"Have you been smoking again, Prince!? Mom will be so upset..." (initial shock, fading into disappointment) "Shhh! Gram and Pop are sleeping!” (whisper-screaming, rushed) "Did you see that link about people seeing some guy before they died?” (curious tone) "No, psychics aren't -- ghosts aren't real." (stern tone)

Amy - Needs to be able to sound stuck-up, female - Amy is one of the smaller, but first antagonists of the story. She strongly dislikes Aquina, because of her own crush on Prince. She needs to sound judgemental and rude during most dialogue. She's a very angry character.

- Example Dialogue:

"Aquina, yeah. We know.” (annoyed tone) "Seriously? They just met each other!” (angered disbelief) "What, bitch, are you mad that you weren't satsifying enough for him? Huh!?" (very aggressive tone)

Tyrell Connor - Fuckboy, male - Tyrell is Xiuo's best friend initially, but goes on to upset a lot of the group. He's very flirty, almost obnoxiously so, and tries to have 'swagger'. He's all about partying, but sometimes has emotional moments.

- Example Dialogue:

"First: Find a party. Next: Attend party. Third: Get craaaaazy!" (joyful tone) "Damn, fool, props if he smashed that so quick." (proud tone) "Aquina, right? How ya doin’, momma? He treating you right?" (flirtatious tone)

Brian Greenwood - Any tone, male - Brian is one of the most neutral characters. He's very relaxed and doesn't have all too many lines, despite occasional points of view being in his perspective. He's the boyfriend of Rebecca, who shows up about the same number of times as him. - Example Dialogue: "Come on, Ty. We're your boys." (reassuring tone) "Wh-What!? I thought he was joking! Who would.. who would actually do that!?" (very anxious)

Aquina Baxter - Sweet, but not super feminine voice, female - Aquina is one of the main characters of the initial part of the story. She has a lot of dialogue, but doesn't often raise her voice or get too emotional. She's friendly and kind, but also very, very awkward. She can come off as shy or quirky. Her name is pronoucned A-key-nuh.

- Example Dialogue:

“I’m sorry, Prince.. I’m.. here for you, okay?” (empathetic, gentle tone) "Oh, thank God. If he bit his lip one more time, I was ready to dive into the pool." (relieved, slightly angered tone) "Is.. sex a drug?" (nervous tone)

Mei Lin - Very sarcastic, monotone, female - Mei is a strong supporting character of the story. She has a tone that makes her sound uninterested, much like April from Parks and Recreation or Raven from Teen Titans. She hides a lot of her emotion around big groups, but shows what she's feeling inside when she's around few people, and only those she trusts. Unlike her parents, she lacks a Chinese accent.

- Example Dialogue:

"Now that we’ve established how clueless some girls can be..” (indirectly insulting) "Homecoming, prom, graduation.. That’s all this year a-and.. What if it goes wrong and we don’t remember it as the great thing it’s supposed to be? What if--" (worried, progressively growing faster) "It would be in your best intentions to not type anything else. Ever." (grouchy tone)

Mariana Rivera - Hispanic, very girly/high-pitched, female - Mariana has one of the highest pitched voices of the characters in the beginning of the story, but she also has a hispanic accent. The accent can be sacrificed if your voice for her sounds great, but it's preferred to be kept with an accent. She's generally clueless and bubbly, but when pissed off, she is incredibly aggressive. Know that you'll have to say some lines in Spanish.

- Example Dialogue:

"I can't go to that shit. Brujeria, you know?" (denying someone) "Wow.. You look gorgeous! You neeeeeeeeeed to let me borrow that dress sometime." (excited tone) "Why are you being such a bitch, Amy? You go from that hoe Sierra, to this slut, and now you want to fight me? ME?" (aggressive tone)

Grama Lou - Elderly, female - Grama Lou doesn't say many lines, when she does, they're all tearful. She's the very sweet grandmother character that just wants the best for her family.

- Example Dialogue:

“...There’s been an accident.. William a-and.. Hyori.. their car was in a collision.. neither.. neither.. of them..” (struggling, crying)

Poppa Ron - Elderly, male - Poppa Ron says even less lines than Grama Lou does. He's much more stern than she is.

- Example Dialogue:

“..Your mother and father were in an accident. They didn’t.. make it.” (strong tone)

Mr. Baxter - Mature, deep, male - Mr. Baxter is an abusive father who doesn't care for his daughter. He shrugs her off like she doesn't exist much of the time. He's more focused on his job than his family and isn't a direct antagonist, but shows to be one.

- Example Dialogue:

“What is it, ‘quina? I’m in the middle of a very important call.” (annoyed tone, said after sighing)

Announcer over intercom - Anyone, preferrably female - This character only speaks once and their voice will be edited if they can't deliver the voice to sound the way an intercom sounds.

- Example Dialogue:

"Prince and Xavier Reaper, please come to the office. Prince and Xavier Reaper, please come to the office."