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#Can you tell I like Horror Comedies
dreammeiser · 2 months
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Is it okay to ask what type of genres would you say Dream along is? And will the show tackle any mature topics such as loss, depression, etc? 
Yes, of course :oD The way I've been writing it, Dream Along With Me is Psychological/Surreal Horror, Mystery, and Comedy, dipped in yummy 80s Nostalgia! It does have heavy mature themes as well! When the script is completed, I'll be sure to list them out in fair warning, and episodes containing those themes will have a warning in the beginning of the video. If you need something to anticipate the kind of horror elements I am planning on having in this show, I can tell you the horror media I was inspired by: The whacky, absurdist humor and Cosmic/Paranormal/Supernatural Horror of Welcome to Night Vale! The Paranormal Horror of The Magnus Archives! The Puppet Horror and Humor of Don't Hug Me I'm Scared! The Uncanny Valley/Dreamlike Eerieness and Humor of Thu Tran's Food Party! The Occult/Body Horror of Suspiria (2018)! The Supernatural/Dreamlike Horror of Twin Peaks! And the Dream Horror elements from games like OFF, Life is Strange, and Yume Nikki!
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starry-bi-sky · 4 months
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I'm having incoherent thoughts about clone danny again from the clone/clone^2 au (when am I not?) but more specifically I'm thinking about his reaction to finding out he's a clone. The standalone clone au digs into that a little more than clone^2, which is more focused on Danny and Damian's relationship. But neither (so far) really get into Danny's issues about finding out he's a clone after 15 years of thinking he wasn't.
Because he resents his parents for not telling him for so long. He resents the way he found out; through a trivial school project rather than a sit-down talk. He resents the fact that, apparently, they had meant to tell him sooner. But forgot. He resents the fact that they never told him because finding out feels like something was stolen from him when it had the chance to not be.
Danny Fenton, just fifteen, cloned not even half a year ago, knows what that personal violation of autonomy feels like. He knows what it's like to be cloned and while he loves Ellie, he does, she's his sister, and in this au his twin. But he is still left with that feeling of unsafety after realizing he'd been cloned. Being cloned is violating. The onset realization that it's so easy to get DNA without the other party noticing, and that what was stopping someone from trying to clone him again?
Followed only after with the rest of the inexplainable mix of feelings of being cloned, the rest of that inner conflict and panic that's an ugly mocktail of emotions that range from horror to fear. Trying to imagine what it's like to be cloned from the cloned party, and I imagine that it leaves you with the feeling of needing to crawl out of your own skin with discomfort.
And then he gets put on the other side of it. Danny Fenton, only fifteen, was cloned not even half a year ago, finding out he is a clone. And reactions, I imagine, can vary from person to person. But to him, it feels like something got stolen from him, like someone took a hole puncher and stuck it right into his chest and stole a chunk of himself from him.
It changes nothing about him and yet it changes everything. It's a betrayal on it's own to just find out he was a clone and they didn't tell him for fifteen years -- it shouldn't mean anything, because he's still Danny, and yet it means everything. It's him, it's him, it's about him. It's his personhood. It's about the fact that a load-bearing rock in his identity just crumbled beneath his feet and now there's a rockslide.
Because then he finds out that they used the wrong DNA. Its like pouring salt in an open wound. He's not even related to his parents or his sister, when for years he thought he was. It's the fact that pieces of his identity that he's been so secure in for so long just got ripped away from him in an instant. Then they tell him -- only through his own horrified prompting -- that the person whose DNA they used -- Bruce Wayne -- didn't even know he existed. That they accidentally used the wrong DNA, then didn't tell the person whose DNA they used.
The betrayal of being lied to for years turns really quickly into horror at his own existence. Something very similar to the horror he felt at being cloned and the skin-crawling discomfort that made him feel like his own skin wasn't really his. And then its not. It's actually not. Nothing but his own name feels like it belongs to him anymore -- not his hair, not his eyes, not his heart or his lungs, nothing feels like his anymore and he didn't know what that felt like until it was gone.
It's a question of Nature Vs. Nurture -- where does the line of "nature" begin and where does the line of "nurture" end? What of him is actually his? What of him is Bruce Wayne's? It's not logical, it's not supposed to be. It's a load-bearing wall on the house of his identity being destroyed and now everything else is caving down in on him. What belongs to Danny, what belongs to Bruce Wayne?
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starrysharks · 7 months
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writing 5 page encyclopedias on my ocs and their stupid backstories is so fun but writing the story itself oooooh i can't stand the writing the story itself
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thornshadowwolf · 9 months
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I love horror premises but as sitcom premises.
"I found out my reflection is sentient when I smiled at the mirror and it didn't smile back" -> guy who is TRYING to turn his life around but his reflection is just a CONSTANT DOWNER and can you PLEASE work with me here for once can you at least PRETEND to be happy.
Alternatively, "my reflection is sentient and takes pleasure in tormenting me" -> the exact same thing but it's played as humorous. Like instead of being dark and menacing the reflection is just a piece of shit asshole. Begrudgingly saves the protag but ONLY cuz if you die I die because really it was so funny watching you get chased by The Monster.
"My eye surgery didn't make me able to see visible light, but I can see heat signatures. Now I wonder why my best friend is room temperature" -> infrared vision guy and his roommate/friend who he just found out is a ghost/vampire/whatever and they get into shenanigans
"My parents threw me into the basement to try and appease The Creature with a food offering" -> but the creature doesn't eat people so we've just been chillin (maybe follow up with a "gotta pretend the offering worked so the parents are still scared and don't kill my new friend, and also they clearly didn't care abt me that much, so I just live here now")
"'Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,' I whispered into the mirror darkened by the lightless room. I knew it was just a legend, but, after 10 years of being locked down here alone, I was desperate to see another face." -> literally just have that work. Me and the bestie (Bloody Mary). Maybe she even helps you get out.
And we've all seen that post that turns the "I'm tucking my son into bed when he tells me, 'Daddy, check for monsters under my bed!' I look underneath for his amusement, and I see him — another him, under the bed — staring back at me, quivering and whispering, 'Daddy, there’s somebody on my bed.'' into "Well, I guess I have 2 kids now. *time skip* omg doppelganger children numbers 4 and 7 stop itttttt you KNOW I love both of you"
Also horror setting but the protag is anywhere between "unimpressed and over it" and "chipper with a sense of humor about it." Wholly unbothered. Maybe mildly annoyed.
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msfcatlover · 1 year
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Lemme tell you, if the new show explicitly disproves any of my takes on how TMA’s world functions: No it didn’t, because I’m not going to listen to that thing until it’s over (not judgemental; just how I roll), and I don’t have to account for canon I don’t consume.
I might add/amend some of what I absorb by osmosis, if I like ‘em, but that’s a mighty big “might.”
Also, if my headcanons are cooler, I’m still sticking with them.
This is also how I’m approaching comics, for the record :P (Awful lot of osmosis, but I am moseying my way forwards.)
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thehmn · 7 months
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I finally got to watch Viften (Empire) and it’s such a fascinating movie. It was written by Anna Neye who also plays Anna Heegaard, a rich free black woman who’s dating the Danish governor of the island.
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It’s sold as an absurdist comedy and I think there’s no other way to describe it. There aren’t any real jokes but you often end up laughing at the absurdity of it all.
It’s extremely honest about the horrors Danes put the black population through but thankfully it only shows it in quick flashes of art as seen in the trailer. I once watched a video where they explained why most women aren’t into slasher movies and why black people generally don’t rewatch movies about racism and slavery. It’s because the the horrors shown are very real fears and a fact of life so the only people who can really enjoy watching a woman get horribly murdered as entertaining are men and only white people can watch a black person getting whipped to death with cinematic lighting and have a fun night out. By showing the horrors in art they get to be clear about exactly what is going on without coming off as exploitative.
But it’s also very honest about the ways a society based on slavery fucks with everyone. Most of the servants at the manor are slaves except the cook who bought her own freedom years ago. She tells the housekeeper Petrine that some day she too will be able to buy her freedom and get her own slave. That’s right, the freed black people aspire to get their own slaves because that’s the sort of values a society like this instills in people. And Anna tries to be as nice as possible to her own slaves but doesn’t take her own success for granted and is more afraid of an uprising than her white lover and ends up doing some really horrible things to her slaves to keep them down.
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It also touches on how people viewed being black or white back then. That it wasn’t all about skin colour but also status. That’s why all the white people treat Anna as one of them. She’s a rich, educated lady so of course she’s “white”. Even Anna express contempt at being called black because she doesn’t work in the field. The poor freed black people also call Petrine white because she dress and acts like a Dane. Not as in “you are pretending to be white” but as in you are white.
And hats off to the director Frederikke Aspöck. There’s a scene where a woman buys her freedom and they put on a symbolic slave auction where she gets up on the podium and bids on herself. All the white neighbors have come to witness it because it’s seen as this joyous day and they all clap, she’s offered to drink with them and she’s all smiles. The director managed to make the scene wholesome while highlighting the absurdity of it and all you can do is chuckle because what the fuck? The white people think it’s a good thing that she’s free but continue to keep and mistreat their own slaves, and she no doubt dreams of getting her own down the road. It’s very much depicted as institutionalized racism and not just “a few bad eggs”.
And I didn’t know where to put this but there’s a lot of interesting symbolism going on with Anna’s dresses. She always wears dresses that match the colors of the rooms she’s in, establishing her as fully part of the system, but as she begins to realize that the Danish state will never see her as fully equal her colors start to clash with her surroundings.
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I watched it on Netflix and it has English subtitles so it should be somewhere for English speakers to watch if you feel so inclined.
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spaghettiposts · 6 months
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Unspoken Truths
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Summery: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but never once has she showed up at your doorstep in this state. Pregnant, alone, and hurt. You take her in and you both dive into the difficulties of pregnancy, and hiding feelings.
Warnings: Pregnancy, Dickhead Vision, Friends to lovers, Attempts at comedy, Reader being a sweetheart like always, Mutual Pinning, Faint talks of Abortion, talks of nausea and vomiting.
Words: 4k
There was a knock at the door. Which was weird since it was- what time was it? 
Your arm reached for your phone resting on the bedside table. 2:04 am. Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling discomfort. Who would be knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? Wiping your eyes you rose to your feet, questioning if this was really worth getting up for. 
Slowly you found your courage, and a baseball bat in your hands. You stumbled through the hallway, trying to wake yourself up to face the potential threat at your door. You felt like you were walking right into a classic horror scene, was it Ghostface maybe? Nah he’d call, you think. 
Through the peephole you saw the last person you’d ever expect at this ungodly hour.
“Wanda?” You yawned, hand still on the door. “It’s 2 in the morn- Woah.” You grunted in surprise as her arms wrapped around your waist, instinctively you wrapped your arms around her too. Your surprise quickly shifted into concern at her small sniffles, the brunette tightly gripping at your shirt. “Wanda? What’s wrong?”
The girl in your arms said nothing, merely shaking her head against your shirt. You took that as your cue to close the door behind you, leading Wanda inside. Not once did you separate from her, allowing her to cling onto you. Despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the blush from rising. 
Unfortunately you don’t dwell on how nice it feels to be hugging Wanda, not now, not when she’s still crying. Removing an arm around her, you place it on the small of her back. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” 
It’s then that Wanda realizes her current position, she takes a shuddering breath, agreeing with a nod of her head. You ignore the flutter in your chest from the way her grip tightened on your forearm as you lead the way. 
When you sit on the couch Wanda follows suit, sitting a safe distance away from you. You figure she’s composing her thoughts from the way she plays with the rings on her fingers. 
Without thinking you reach for her hand, missing the way her breath hitches from the contact. “What’s wrong Wanda? You can tell me.” 
The brunette looks up at you through tearful eyes, she only feels herself tear up further by the look you give her. An adoring look, a soft comforting smile. It hurts to look at, it hurts even more when your eyebrows furrow. 
“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s bothering you so much…” You add, she’s quick to wipe her eyes and take a deep breath.
“Y/n, I’m pregnant.” She sighs out, feeling some relief. She cringes at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Now you were certainly awake.
Out of all the things Wanda would say, that was certainly not one you would’ve predicted. Pregnant. Of course you could see Wanda being a mom but you recalled her mentioning how she’d like to finish college first.
Clearly…that didn’t happen.
“I just found out.” Wanda let out one of many sighs to come, rubbing her swollen eyes with her hoodie sleeves. She leaned back on the couch, giving you a forced smile.
You remained flabbergasted. Pregnant.
Wanda was pregnant. And came to you. For comfort? Advice? A secret revelation that your love for her was strong enough to get her pregnant? That last one was still part of your sleepy brain talking. 
You had many questions, the most important one was where was the father? You assumed Vision was the father, at least. Even if part of you didn’t like that idea so much. 
Taking in consideration how the brunette arrived at your house, with red bloodshot eyes, and tear stains on her cheeks from crying so much. You worded your next question carefully. “I’m assuming it’s bad?”
A watery laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head in disbelief. “Bad is an understatement.” And although she’s laughing, her eyes continue to water until she’s tired of pretending everything’s going okay. Her crying turns to sobs, leaning against you for support again. This time you don’t disconnect, letting her rest her weight on you.
You stare up at the ceiling, Wanda laying on your chest having fallen fast asleep. The couch is comfortable enough to make you feel better, but not enough to silence your worries for the woman on top of you. Unsure of what to think you simply conclude it’s best if you don’t, not right now. 
Letting out a deep breath, you close your eyes, tightening your arms around the girl.
Tomorrow, tomorrow you could talk about it.
/-/
It was tomorrow, and you were dreading talking about it. It’s not even yours, chill out, you reminded yourself. First thing you woke up to was an empty couch, with just you laying on it. Where was Wanda?  Rubbing your eyes to wake up fully you noticed the small sticky note on your arm. 
Turning it around revealed Wanda’s whereabouts.
I wanted to make you breakfast, so I went to the market. Your pantry sucks ♥️ 
Okay, breakfast. You loved Wanda’s meals, you figured the least you could do was clean up the kitchen for her. Forcing yourself to get up you threw your arms over your head, letting your back pop. Looking towards the kitchen in all honesty it didn’t look too bad. 
Just some pots that needed to be cleaned, remove the grease. A bag of flour on the counter…you didn’t quite remember why and how that was there. And a sock on the stovetop, you held it up in disgust. When did that get there? 
Feeling embarrassed for yourself, you got to work. Quickly. Socks were placed in the hamper. Flour, back in the pantry in its designated compartment. Then you dropped some flour, falling all over yourself and the items around you.
“Great…” you muttered, eying all the powder on the floor. 
Sweeping it is. 
Aside from the mess, and making more of a mess things went quite smoothly. You were satisfied with your work, the kitchen looked like a kitchen again. However pots still remained, making quick work of them you rinsed them off. 
Not noticing how the front door opened and a certain brunette looked your way. She smiled fondly at the small cusses you let out, shaking your hand from the hot water. Carefully she placed down all the grocery bags, a little louder than she intended.
“Oh shit!” You gasped, dropping the pot. “Wanda! You scared me.” You chuckled, turning off the tap, you could finish washing that later.
“You bought a lot…” You pointed out, drying your hands. Six paper bags were on the table, you were very glad you took time to clean it. 
Wanda snorted, unloading the frozen products from one bag. “Y/n you didn’t even have tomatoes. Absolutely no produce.” 
You rolled your eyes. You never cooked much, tomatoes would’ve gone bad under your care. Wanda on the other hand lived for cooking. A perfect balance in your opinion, she could cook, and you could taste. You walked over, taking the frozen foods from her hands to put them away, ignoring the pointed look.
She muttered something about your organizational skills—lack of. Probably a complaint.
“How much was it?” You asked from the freezer.
Does cheese go in there?
“It’s on me.” She shrugged, opening the onions and placing them in the basket. Her nose crinkled watching you attempt to be useful, gently her fingers wrapped around your wrist, taking the cheese away and putting it in the fridge. 
You let out a shaky exhale from the contact, watching her walk away. Shaking off the feeling you remember her words, scrunching your face. “No Wanda, how much?”  Pulling out your wallet you handed her $120 “Here.”
Wanda laughed, pushing your hand away “No. It’s on me. For last night.”
“Seriously?” You scoffed not believing it, waving the money at her. If she wouldn’t take it you knew you’d have to put it in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Like usual. “Well at least let me cook if you’re not gonna take it.”
“I said I was making breakfast!” She whined. Cute.
You pouted at your friend, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Yeah but I want to do something…”
Wanda smiled, placing a hand on your forearm. “You’ve done enough for me.” She said, leaning up to place a small peck on your cheek. “Thank you Y/n.”
Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you didn’t win this battle. Of course not, she cheated, but she didn’t know that. She’s with Vision, having no clue of the effects she has on you. You still felt hot on the inside, and were probably blushing on the outside too.
Damnit Y/n pull it together, she’s pregnant and needs your support. Not your gayness.
Once everything was put away, mainly Wanda doing the work and correcting whatever you did wrong. She pushed you down on the chair, telling you to sit while she cooked. Then you could talk, talk.
Right, the talk.
Fuck. 
You wondered why you were still so nervous. Around Wanda? Well that one was given. But a pregnant Wanda? That felt…odd. Nevertheless you gave her, her space not wanting to overwhelm the pregnant person. 
She didn’t look pregnant…obviously. She just found out…hasn't even been a month. God was it hot in this room? Or were you just sweating? Nervous. 
“It is Visions.” You turned your head to look at Wanda. She spoke calmly with a tense figure. She flipped the bacon, turning her eyes to you. “And- You know I didn’t want…kids right now but things happen. We’ve talked about it before and Vision said he’d love that.”
You tilted your head, knowing there was more to it.
She let out a shaky breath “After college, he's still building his business a-and he said he doesn’t have time to raise a family. He wants nothing to do with them but I-“
“Abortion isn’t…?”
“No.” She said firmly, turning off the stove, using her sleeves to wipe her blurred eyes. “Your bacon might be a little salty by the way.” She smiled sadly, handing you a plate with two pancakes.
Seeing past the smile, you squeezed her arm in understanding, grabbing the plate from her hands. She sat down across from you, eating from her own plate giving you the opportunity to do the same. 
“These are great Wands.” You mumbled after swallowing your food, wiping your mouth. “You’d be a good mom.” Digging your fork into the pancakes for more. They were truly delicious, you don’t think you’d ever get used to how spectacular she made them. 
Wanda gave you a scrunched look, a sheepish smile on her lips. “You’re just saying that.” She shrugged it off, ignoring the way it made her feel.
“I'm not though. You’re kind, patient, compassionate, giving, and understanding. Aren't those motherly qualities?” You teased, though your tone remained reassuring. 
Still Wanda remained in disbelief, shaking her head lightly letting out a breathy laugh “I’m just not sure where to go from here. I’m keeping them.” She stared at you, seriously, as if you would try to change her mind. 
“But that’s all I know.” She rubbed her head with her hands, feeling frustrated. She had no plan.
You reached over for Wanda’s hand, rubbing soft circles with your thumb. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”
Her mouth curved into a smile, looking at both of your hands. Together, that was a nice word. Then she took in what you said, her head tilting to the side. “We?”
Wanda’s smile turned into a teasing one, as you stammered over your words, tensing your hand from their ministrations. “Well yeah I mean since Vision isn’t really in the picture and you shared the apartment with him I’m assuming- offering if you wanted to stay with me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.
Smooth.  
“It was just a thought I had…” You finished, feeling intimidated by her gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for her answer. You had basically just proposed she move in with you, with a kid. Like couples do. With a kid. 
The more you thought about it the more you wanted her to say yes. You wanted to care for her, god knows she needed it. An idea came into your head about rearranging the guest bedroom into Wanda’s, only if she said yes- god we’re getting ahead of ourselves what if she says n-
“Yes.” She blurted, squeezing your hand in excitement, a little harder than intended. 
“Wait- yes?”
“Yes! Oh my god yes,” She practically squealed, standing up from her seat to pace. “I mean I was also thinking about where I’d go…I’m not ready to tell my parents, you know how they feel about pregnancy before marriage, and Pietro already knows but he’s barely thriving.” She gestured with her hands, clasping them together and looking at you expectantly.
You nodded, growing even more excited with her. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here.” You beamed up at the brunette. She was quick to pull you out of your chair with a toothy grin, pulling you into a hug. 
You both sighed at the contact, holding each other tighter. 
“Thank you, again.” She mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck. You could only smile, what else could you do? This girl was amazing, you squeezed her back in response. 
“It’s no problem, I’d love having you here. And the kid, or kids? Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had twins- worse triplets.” You mumbled to yourself, Wanda giggled.
Maybe Wanda would need help moving in. Getting her stuff, avoiding Vision. You thought to yourself about skipping work for the day- maybe a week. The guest bedroom had the essentials, but not anything baby related…
As you continued rambling on about the move, Wanda sighed, tugging you closer with a loving smile on her face. Then it dawned on her, was she in love with her best friend? Her eyes widened at the realization, trying to bury her panic and listen to your voice instead. 
You raised a hand to your chin, not noticing how tense she had become. “I think I could skip work today and go to the hardware store. We might need a crib, the guest bedroom is yours but the baby gosh it needs its space too-“ 
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The move had gone smoothly, a little too smoothly. Wanda insisted you stay outside the door to Visions apartment while she took care of things. Reluctantly you agreed standing outside waiting, only coming in when Wanda signaled for you to come in. 
His apartment was quite nice, you could see why Wanda liked it so much. Unsurprisingly his home was decorated with small luxuries, perks of being a Stark.
Boxes after boxes went by packed, you insisted Wanda do the lighter loads, not wanting her to hurt her back. And before noon all of Wanda’s stuff was ready to go, no Vision in sight. He must’ve been busy today, Wanda only muttering something about his Chess club. 
Not wanting to stay any longer you packed up the truck, heading to your place. So in short, yes, everything was going great. Wanda made herself an even more important figure in your life, you didn’t think that was possible. Although she had a way of proving you wrong.
She fell quickly into your daily routine, and so easily too. Every morning she’d make you coffee for work, and when she was feeling sick you made her breakfast in return. Wanda had been getting sick a lot more than usual, you assumed it was morning sickness. If only you had realized sooner how bad it had gotten. 
Wanda could not sleep.
There were days when she’d have nightmares as a kid that prevented her from sleeping, often nightmares of a bomb being dropped on her house. Nights waiting up for Vision where she couldn’t sleep in hopes he’d return soon. Many times in her life Wanda found it difficult to sleep, this time the horrors of pregnancy guiding her to insomnia.
Until she felt that familiar feeling again, nausea. Quickly she threw the covers off herself, booking it towards the bathroom. Wanda was so grateful your guest bedroom had a bathroom connected to it, it had given her more privacy and spared her the embarrassment.
Her fingertips barely grazed on the door to close it before she was kneeling on the floor by the toilet, emptying the compartments in her stomach.
Hunched over on the toilet she didn’t realize how much time had passed, time passed slowly for her during this part. All she remembered was the door creaking a little and her hair being collected into a ponytail.
Wanda swore she could hear your voice, she preferred to focus on how nice your hand felt rubbing on her back, how soothing it felt. Your touch brought her back, wiping the side of her lips she turned to meet your concerned eyes. 
Only turning more concerned by the look of exhaustion Wanda held. Words weren’t necessary to communicate where Wanda would be staying that night, or any other nights. Really, as Wanda was pulled up to her feet, and guided to your bedroom she found herself unwilling to care. You kissed her forehead so tenderly whispering goodnight that made Wanda realize it wasn’t so bad.
Sleeping in your arms was worth a little sickness. 
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“Twins.” You heard Wanda mutter from beside, laying on the bed. You couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but her squeeze on your hand made you feel uneasy. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you decided to keep silent, biting the inside of your cheek. 
Weeks had flown by pretty fast, Wanda being on her 15th. Poor girl was already feeling the pain of carrying not one but two kids in her stomach. She’d often ask you to hold her stomach which you easily complied too. 
The doctor turned in his chair, away from the monitor looking at you both with a grin. “Yep! Looks like two healthy babies, would you like to know the gender?” He asked.
Your eyes glanced at Wanda, her face indifferent. Thankfully you caught the slight quiver of her lips letting you know all you needed to. 
“Uh no. Thank you Doctor Stephen but I think” She squeezed your hand again. “…we’re fine for now.” You mustered up a polite smile. 
He nodded his head, mirroring the same smile “Of course! I’ll just go put this in your file and clean things up then you’re good to go.” He tossed his gloves in the bin, finally leaving you two alone. 
You sucked your teeth, hearing the door click shut. Knowing Wanda, she was never used to change even though throughout her childhood all the brunette did was suffer through it. She liked to be in control, prepared for what to expect.
Now it seemed you were expecting two. 
You let out a small noise as your back hit the chair next to her side. Deciding to break the silence, you spoke calmly, “So twins, I guess that means we might need another crib.”
Her eyes only twitched in response, barely acknowledging the way you tried to subtly cheer her up. Make her feel this wasn’t a sudden change she wasn’t prepared for. The thought of another kid shook Wanda, it made her feel nervous. She fidgeted from her place, picking at the bedsheets.
Wanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. She took her hand off yours, using them to rub her temple. “God I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/n I-“ Her throat closed up, she hated the way her immediate response was to cry, tears starting to prickle at her eyes. She hated even more how your face softened, “I can barely fathom one kid, now I’m supposed to mother two.” 
Her head hung lowly as small tears started to stream down her cheeks. Not wanting you to see her that way she tried her best to turn away only for you to grab her cheeks with both hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin. Wanda let out a choked sob, staring at you so hopelessly. The sight broke your heart.
“Wanda hey, it’s okay.” You whispered.
“No Y/n I just-  two. That’s two new people coming into your home, and me included- I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve it.” She croaked out, sniffling between words.
You scrunch your face in protest, giving her a stern shake of your head. “Wanda you’ve always been welcome in my home, pregnant or not and it’s not just mine now it’s yours too. I want to help you.” You affirmed, moving your hands to wipe at her tears before coming down to hold her own.
“Why?” She asked.
“Because I care about you, and I love you.” You confessed, the words coming out with more meaning than you intended. Wanda stared up at you in adoration, her eyes crinkling, and a small blush dusting her cheeks. It was then you noticed how close you were, how close Wanda's face was to your own. Feeling overwhelmed by her stare, you looked away, taking a couple steps back. “And I love them too, whatever they are…”
Missing the disappointed look on her face.
Leaning back into the bed, Wanda turns her head to look at you, and if you were looking back you would’ve seen the loving look on her face “I really don’t deserve a friend like you.” She said softly, her voice so fragile.
Then you turned back this time, meeting her gaze, her words registering in your head. Quickly your face turned into a frown, “Don’t say that.”
Ignoring your words Wanda took a hold of your hand. A gesture that came so naturally now, both of you latching onto each other, wanting to feel one another. “I love you too, so much detka.” 
More than you realize.
/-/
“Y/n.” Wanda murmured hurriedly, shaking at your arm. “Detka, wake up.”
Letting out a snort, you woke up with a cough, turning away to cover yourself. Your eyes fluttered wide open, wrestling with the sheets in a panic, “Huh? Yeah- Wands? What's wrong, are they here?”
A small smile crept up her lips at the mention of the twins, “No silly, I'm just…hungry again.” She whispered, turning away from your gaze in embarrassment.
“Again?” You clarified.
“Yeah…sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.
Leaning on your elbows for support you lifted yourself up, sitting up. Scratching the back of your head you turned to look at your clock. Naturally it was 2 am, usually the time when Wanda would get hungry. 
“No, no, that's fine.” You muttered hoarsely, clearing your throat. “I don’t mind, what are you craving?” 
“Steves burgers…” She beamed.
“Steves? Okay I’ll get you some, with onions or without?” You said as you walked towards the closet, shrugging on your jacket. 
“With, and grilled please.”
“Okay, yeah.” You hummed, slipping on your shoes. “I’ll uh be back try to get some sleep yeah? It's pretty late.” Kneeling up from the floor you reached for your wallet, stuffing it in your pockets. 
Wanda made a disagreeing grunt but pulled the sheets back on herself anyway. “I guess.”
You nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. Grabbing your keys from the nightstand you made your way to the door, a small tug on your jacket stopping you. Curiously you turned around to meet Wanda, tilting your head in question. Her hand traveled up your forearm, pulling you down to press a lingering kiss on your cheek.  
“Stay safe, and put on your glasses when you drive. Your astigmatism gets bad at this hour.” She husked out, letting you go. 
Your breath catches in your throat, not trusting your words you nod again. Stumbling through a few items you rush towards the door, leaving with a small goodbye unsure why Wanda was teasing you. What was that?
/-/
“Hey.” You said, a surprised look on your face as you closed the door behind you. Wanda gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes from the dimly lit dining room. She was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing one of your hoodies.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting, it’s really late.” Checking at the clock once again you confirmed your suspicions, you assumed perhaps she’d enjoy her burger in bed like she always does. This time however Wanda had different plans, fiddling with her sleeves.
“You know I can’t sleep without you.” She retorted, gazing into your eyes “I like it when you’re here.” She confesses profoundly.
You give her a sheepish smile, unsure what to say. The look in her eyes does nothing but make you even more nervous, what was going on with her? “I like it when you’re here too. Is everything okay?” 
Wanda lets out a sigh, you choose to ignore it thinking she’s probably starving by now. You place the plastic bag on the table, taking out the bags and giving Wanda her burger. A number 2 with grilled onions, two pickles, and no cheese. “And I got you these.” You slide the container to her.
Wanda gives you a questioning look before opening it, she lets out a gasp when she does. Animal style fries. The annoyed quirk of her eyebrows long gone. Closing the lid she gives you a thankful pout, her eyes glossing.  “Thank you…”
“I got you a strawberry milkshake too since I know you like dipping them with the animal fries.” You chuckled, putting the glass on the table. 
That’s when Wanda wanted to cry, cry pathetically into her perfect burger brought by your perfect, kind, compassionate self. Instead she tossed the burger aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but pressed back with the same intensity, quickly melting into the kiss. 
Wanda sighing against your lips easily became your new favorite sound, eager to get her to make more, your hands coming up to cup her face. Eventually you realize that this isn’t just any girl, but your best friend. Your best friend who you’d have been crushing on for years, your best friend who just kissed you.
She kissed you.
And you almost break the kiss by how much you’re smiling but Wanda beats you to it, leaving lingering kisses on your lips, slowing the pace until her forehead is against yours. “I’m in love with you Y/n.”
Your breath hitches “M-Me too.”
Wanda shakes her head, moving to nuzzle against your collarbone. “No detka, as in more than just a friend.” She says, reminded of your previous statements on what friends do. Fuck being friends, you wanted Wanda. Wanted to show her how good of a partner you could be.
“So you like me?” You asked shyly, still processing the revelation.
Wanda picked up her head from your shoulder, correcting you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Love you.”
You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race. “That's great- thats- I.”
“Just kiss me already.” She orders breathlessly, barely giving you time to mutter ‘okay’ before your lips are on hers again. 
It's not until the morning when you both come downstairs, lovesick smiles on your faces, that you realize the mess you left behind. Both burgers remain uneaten, but as your eyes glance down to yours and Wanda's intertwined fingers, you could care less. 
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intoxicated-chan · 1 year
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Late Night Moments with Miguel O’Hara
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✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ It was normal for Miguel to return home late, you weren’t surprised by his usual entrance through your bedroom window. But what you did enjoy when he came home late is the little routine the two of you have.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ This is a mixture of a fic and headcanons of mine. Miguel is plaguing my mind, I’ve already got two stories in the works. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! And requests will be open soon!
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 533
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, heavy fluff, light blood, injuries, bruises, mentions of violence…
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It starts with a few taps on your window, the taps play in a certain pattern so you know who it is. A few seconds later, the window slides open and in comes Miguel dressed in his Spider-Man costume. He enters with a huff as he closes the window and makes sure it’s locked.
Next, he welcomes you with a tight hug, holding you for a few minutes before you ask if he’d like to get cleaned up. It’s always a hot shower when he comes home, soothing his muscles from the hours of fighting and swinging around.
You can see the bruises and cuts on his skin but it always made him happy when you kissed every single one of them, it made him feel better about himself which is why he enjoyed your touch so much.
Depending on the day (or night), if Miguel had an awful night, then instead of a shower, it’ll be a hot bath. You leaned back as he layed in your arms. He used to think taking baths were childish but he now enjoys them. It’s your favorite because you get to pamper him, especially washing his hair.
Then came drying off. He’d usually leave his hair dripping wet but sometimes he lets you towel dry his hair, maybe style it. Then changing clothes.
Then came his wounds. Bandaging them up as carefully as possible so you don’t cause Miguel more pain. You then kiss all of them again when you finish, “All done!” You smile.
Next, it’s either staying up even later or going straight to bed. If he’s feeling hungry then he’d make food for the two of you, if he doesn’t feel tired then it’s a movie night.
But in the end they always end the same. Holding each other tightly. Basically the face-to-face embrace.
He always needs to know that you’re with him. There were nights where he awoke without you there, he immediately panics. Which is why if you need to use the bathroom, you’re gonna have to wake him up to tell him where you’re going.
Movie nights are interesting. He likes picking out horror movies so he can feel you holding onto him for safety. He says he hates rom coms but he loves them deep down. Then there’s comedy movies when he or you needs a laugh.
Nights where he decides to cook, he likes to share food from his heritage and it always makes him smile when you’re willing to learn how to make it.
But one thing he hates is that if he has work that still needs to be done, he tries to finish as quickly as possible but he’s not gonna lie, there are some nights where he forgets to take care of himself.
That’s when you come in, having Lyla remind him to drink water, coming into his home office to bring him some food and maybe cuddle on his lap for a few minutes before getting back to work.
But this time, when he’s finished, he goes straight to you. Too tired to even change his clothes, he immediately falls asleep.
It is nights like these where Miguel finally feels at peace.
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© 2033 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.
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physalian · 3 months
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What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!
I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!
Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:
1. No modern means of communication
Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.
With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.
2. The Monster Allegory
Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.
Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.
What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.
3. Magic Systems!
Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?
Then Fantasy is for you!
There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.
4. Real-World Politics, who?
Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.
Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”
Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.
5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”
Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?
This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.
6. You are in complete control
But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.
It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.
It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.
7. Even if it has been done before, do it again
You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).
But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.
So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.
And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.
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soundbulb · 26 days
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if you're gonna get into kendrick as a result of this beef you should know ahead of time that he's the rap equivalent of the weird nerdy christian kid who has wizard ocs in his notebook. he's an incredible musician and extremely creative and varied in his delivery, and he's probably the funniest rapper next to danny brown. but he is absolutely on some wizard shit on most of his albums. honestly the album he's most in his weird christian kid wizard oc bag is his best album. and we're talking about vibe here, he doesn't rap about wizards, he just sounds like one. I feel like if I say that someone will get excited about him having wizard ocs and then they'll listen to him and be like why'd she lie about him being into wizards. I don't know his dj character on damn is kind of a wizard. my sister used to call skits bumpers, get it, like padding at both ends of the track -- I probably don't need to explain that. so anyway now I'm thinking of him as the bumper wizard.
what I mean is when I see him in his videos I go, I wonder if he was homeschooled, and then I remember the entire narrative arch of gkmc and go, oh he wasn't he's just like that naturally I guess. but his theatrical flows are not on the whole that common in other rappers, and those along with his anti gangbanger position could've just as easily been read as weird but then it absolutely banged and that tipped the scale towards creative instead. if you watch for free? you can tell he'd actually be a good comedic actor honestly I think he should do like a couple movies, nothing big but it's got a little cult classic thing going on. I feel like it's not even uncommon for rappers to have that vibe, like they'd carry in a comedy or even a dramedy. maybe it's because you do expect rappers to be funny and they do have to show up with Persona with a capital P. like kendrick would've fit in in dead presidents. wait actually that's too perfect, he'd fit right in in dead presidents. megan thee stallion could honestly be in block busters if she wanted, we already know she has the screen presence and delivery down. I said danny brown already, but he should be on one of those horror shorts on adult swim-- it's not totally a horror short, but one of the ones that was more like a black comedy. actually I could see him making something like this house has people in it. don't look that up it's foul. monaleo's latest also makes me feel like she could do comedies but it'd be like a pink panther remake
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transbookoftheday · 3 months
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Trans Horror Podcasts
My post about trans horror books last year was much more popular than I expected, and since I've recently fallen in love with fiction podcasts and audio dramas, I thought I'd make a post about trans horror podcasts as well.
If you like trans horror, please give these a try - especially if you enjoy listening to audiobooks!
Hello From The Hallowoods:
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Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, an eldritch narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.
Hello From The Hallowoods is my absolute favorite podcast! If you only listen to one podcast from this list, please make it this one - it's so beautifully written and super queer! Also: season 4 starts today!
Trans main characters include:
our nonbinary eye-affiliated podcast host
a nonbinary "Frankenstein's creature"
a transmasc ghost
a genderfluid storm witch
a trans woman who can visit other people's dreams
multiple characters using neopronouns
Camp Here & There:
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Good morning, campers! Camp Here & There is a weekly horror comedy podcast tuned in to the loudspeakers of a small midwestern sleepaway camp plagued by supernatural terrors and natural disasters. Sydney Sargent, resident camp nurse, cheerfully reports on all the terror we must face with a big smile. Let’s hope there’s nothing weird about that!
Sydney is a trans man.
Dos: After You:
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Things have changed. Deck has fallen in love with someone who isn't human, and leaves a hungry house behind to see him again. Will he be waiting for you? The world has changed… but what about him? Dos: After You is a queer urban fantasy/horror audiodrama available in both English & Spanish
Deck is a trans man.
Jar of Rebuke:
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Follow Dr. Jared Hel's journey as he works to re-discover his forgotten past and finds his place within the small Indiana farm town of Wichton and the cryptozoological organization he works for called 'The Enclosure'. These audio journals, and other recordings, dive deep into Midwestern US cryptids and folklore while also telling a mystery about identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.
Jared is nonbinary.
Spirit Box Radio:
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Spirit Box Radio is an award winning, horror audio drama podcast about a radio show for enthusiasts of all things arcane. Follow Sam Enfield a former postboy with no experience in the arcane arts, who finds themselves forced to take over running the show, following the disappearance of the previous host. Sam soon discovers there are more than ghosts haunting the show, and finds himself amidst a mystery which threatens everything he knows about the world beyond his tiny basement broadcast studio, and maybe even himself.
Sam is a trans man.
The Silt Verses:
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Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations amongst the reeds and the wetlands. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories. This is a world where divine intervention takes place through prayer-markings scratched into stumping-posts, and offerings are left squirming to die in the flats of the delta. This is a world of ritual, and hidden language, and sacrifice. This is folk horror, and fantasy, and a dark road trip into the depths of unusual faith.
Faulkner is a trans man.
The Magnus Protocol:
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The Magnus Archives 2: The Magnus Protocol is the prequel/sequel/”sidequel” to the internationally renowned Magnus Archives podcast. The Magnus Institute was an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal, based out of Manchester, England. It burned to the ground in 1999. There were no survivors. Now, almost 25 years later, Alice and Sam, a pair of low-level civil service workers at the underfunded Office of Incident Assessment and Response, have stumbled across its legacy. A legacy that will put them in grave danger. If this intrigues you then it is our pleasure to welcome you to the Office of Incident, Assessment and Response. Make sure you pick up your badge at desk and report to your line manager before sitting down. Oh and stay away from I.T., seriously.
I'm not sure if Alice is canonically trans, but her voice actress is a trans woman.
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vivwritesfics · 5 months
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hii !! i absolutely adore all your writing, you’re literally my fav F1 writer.
may i request a danny ric & wolff!daughter story ? :) if not that’s okay you can ignore this.
age gap bc im a sucker
Warnings: Hint of a daddy kink (for comedy purposes) but no smut
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She was twenty five, not old enough to be dating a thirty four year old. At least, not in her fathers eyes. But the more he saw of them together, the more Toto came to accept it.
It took a full year before Toto felt ready to invite Daniel over for dinner. It was a big step, something that said to both Y/N and Daniel that he was finally accepting of their relationship.
Y/N and Daniel made their way to Toto and Susies house. Susie wasn't her mother, but she loved Y/N like a daughter. They, along with Jack, had formed a little family unit. Susie was the first person she told about Daniel, and she'd made her promise to keep it a secret until she felt ready to tell Toto herself.
They stood on the door step. Toto had made it clear that it was a fancy dinner, to dress to the nines. It was to challenge Daniel, they both knew, but he'd take any challenge Toto was going to throw his way.
Y/N straightened up his tie and kissed him before she knocked on the door. "Just relax and be yourself. My dad loves George Russell for some unexplainable reason, so he'll love you too," she said. (Let it be known that Y/N and George were friends, the kind of friends that took the piss out of each other constantly).
They were welcomed into the house and sat at the table as food was brought over. Conversation was idle, easy. Especially for Daniel. But Y/N could tell he was nervous. He was handling it brilliantly, though.
They scooped different parts of the meal onto their plates. Y/N had chicken and veg, but no potatoes. "Daddy, can you pass the potatoes?" She asked, grinning at her father (she had always been a daddy's girl and had never outgrown the name).
It was like something out of a movie, something not real. At the same time Daniel and Toto reached for the tray of potatoes. But Toto stilled himself, watching in horror as Daniel passed Y/N the potatoes.
Neither of them seemed to notice as Toto and Susie stared at them (Jack was completely unaware).
Suddenly Y/N looked up. "What?" She asked as she passed the potatoes back to Daniel.
And then it clicked. "Oh shit," she mumbled under her breath, refusing to meet her dads eye. There was no explanation for what had just happened, not one that wouldn't scar her parents. "This... isn't what it looks like?"
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lovingksuki · 2 months
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✰ SECRET ADMIRER pt.2
— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader
synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy
cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.
an: guyyyyss it's hereeee. i hope you enjoy since i had many people asking for me to continue with this. i hope it is as good as the first part that btw you can read here
wc: 1,3k
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the two went on a mission walking around the school and very non-suspiciously investigating whose hand that might be.
"i'm telling you! there's sato, iida and..." counted.
"are they even suspects!?" you mocked. "we have to be coherent about it. i don't even have a major relationship with them..."
"how could you possibly know what goes on inside other's head? i think you're being biased about it."
"what do you mean?"
"i know you want it to be one of the hottest in our class!" smiled diabolically.
"i have no idea what you're talking about." you sweated.
"maybe we should call that double colored guy and just ask a few questions..."
"no way... what are you insinuating?" you almost screamed truly shocked.
"that you have a slight cru-"
"I don't have a crush."
"admit it already."
"I'm not admitting anything. quit pestering."
"you're no fun at all. so... are we talking to Todoroki any soon?"
"no."
"psst, isn't that sero coming this way?" mina whispered looking ahead of the corridor.
the duo telepathically agreed to their next move and mina quickly went in action.
"hey, if isn't our fave tape boy! can I have a high-five?" the pink cheered lifting her hand.
the jet-black haired guy smiled playfully slapping hands with her. watching everything, you caught that glimpse of time needed to take conclusions on the survey.
"what are you two up to? feeling extra energetic today..." sero stated.
absorbed in your own thoughts, you simply couldn't answer any of the questions made, so pinky said in advance: "we're just too excited for the... the-"
"for what?"
"the new movie...! yeah! that one with the clowns. everyone is so hyped to watch it!" mina came up with some excuse.
"oh, so you like 'bloody nightmare' series too? man, me and denki are gathering people to go watch with us." he cheered.
you and mina eyed each other nervously while sero kept rambling about horror films. pinky swiftly poked your side sending the 'make him shut up' signal and you quickly catch the message saying:
"y-yeah! it would be super cool, but we need to... to... go to the 1b room! to dis- discuss the next match-"
"we're discussing the teams for the next training match!" mina rapidly came with an excuse ready to push you up the corridor. "see ya!"
"but guys... their class is towards the other side." sero warned confusedly.
"r-right! it's been months, but we still get lost... hehe!" mina sweated. she spotted a purple voluminous hair meters away. "shinso! wait up!"
and you runned away. sero chuckled observing the girls as another duo approached.
"'sup pal?" kirishima greeted. "it's a important matter so, could you share what are the girls planning? we have business with them."
"it's no use, we're gonna lose sight of them." said the blonde ready to walk away, but his buddy was fast to grab his shirt stopping his tracks.
"be reasonable, it's creepy to chase them around the school." eijiro whispered.
"what are you two up to?" sero crossed arms curious about the situation.
"nothing particularly important. girly borrowed something from bakugo." his heart he thought slightly laughing. "did them say anything about where they're heading?" asked.
"mina said they have something to do with class 1b, and i think they left with shinso." sero explained.
"not that eraserhead wannabe..." katsuki gritted teeth.
"well, no time to lose then! thanks dude." kirishima dragged his best friend away.
when the two males finally found the duo they were shocked to see you holding shinso's hand while walking
kirishima panicked turning to the blonde who watched that scene petrified. it was the second time eijiro saw that expression on his face, the first was when they watched all might last fight. that expression that indicates he started malfunctioning, his thoughts are running wild, and he is about to break.
when he finally inhaled, kirishima's heart skipped a beat thinking bakugo would explode at any moment. he prepared himself to restrain his friend from murdering somebody or start yelling like a psycho, but bakugo just hollowed his lungs right after.
watching deadpanned as you walked away giggling.
that behavior... it was truly concerning coming from him.
"are you totally sure?" mina whispered excited.
"it's a great probability, didn't you see that monstrosity of a hand!?" you whisper-exclaimed. "his grip almost crushed mine!"
"okay, but let's don't get ahead of ourselves, there's other boys to analyze." mina said carefully.
"right, but he's a suspect! and did you notice how he didn't hesitate or felt uneasy to hold my hand?"
"i'm not jumping to conclusions but he seemed too chill! it's almost unnatural coming from a person who wrote a love letter." mina spoke wisely.
"you're right." you pouted.
"what am i suspect about? love letter!?"
"aaaaaack! for fucks sake!" you and mina jolted. "y-you heard us?" you asked shyly.
"were you eavesdropping!?" mina confronted.
the boy leaned in the doorframe crossing his arms unphazed by the pink's attitude. "you're not even whispering... some of 1b even heard about how i have big ass hands and shit." he chuckled.
you looked over shinso's shoulder only to encounter monoma, kendo, shiozaki and komori confusedly observing at some distance. "h-hey guys..." and kendo smiled amused.
"he caught us, mina. what do we do?" you said fidgety.
"there's no other way now that he knows our secret. we must kill you." mina stated creepily serious to shinso, making him falter.
"ha. you almost got me there." he laughed mindlessly. after a couple of seconds staring at each other he came to realization. " you're joking,,, right?"
_
"why did you have to scare him like that? what if he go out telling others?"
"it's quite the opposite. he won't tell anyone if he believes it's confidential information. you can question my methods but not my results!" the pink girl explained confidently.
walking down the corridor in search for another male friend. now that the lunchtime was coming to an end the school was less fuzzy, and the groups concentrated in their usual places.
"uh... mina... you're not actually dangerous, are you?" you blurted.
she looked at you puzzled, as if that question was more complicated than it actually seemed. "why do you ask?"
"it's just because, you're my best friend, and if it were for me to have a psycho so close to me i would want to know..." you reasoned.
"don't be ridiculous!" she laughed. "but like you said, we're best friends, that does mean i would probably hide a body for you."
"wait. what the-"
_
"kirishima it's been thirty minutes." the blonde stated impatiently.
the boys were sitting casually at their class waiting for the others to come grab their keys to the closets. p.e was the next hour.
"just be patient dude, when she arrives, you casually get up and go talk to her. do you remember the three steps?" the red haired pointed.
"don't scream, don't curse and look at her in the eye." bakugo grumbled a little skeptical.
when they heard high pitched voices and footsteps approaching the blonde jolted in his seat.
"there they are." kirishima whispered. "good luck soldier"
katsuki got up with a sigh, heart beating fast, he didn't even notice his feet leading him directly to you and almost fainted when you looked at him with those doe eyes.
"h-hey."
"hey!" you greeted rummaging your backpack.
"i was... i recalled that time last week you shared your notes and... i"
"you came to say thanks? it's alrighty! just gimme a shoutout whenever you need!" you smiled
his ears reddened. "y-yeah. but i was trying to ask if ya wanna grab milkshakes sometimes, my treat for the notes." katsuki managed to spill
"oh! i didn't expect that" you giggled thinking that was a cute way to invite someone to hang out. "sure. i provide the notes, you provide the milkshakes." you extended your hand "deal?"
he smirked satisfied shaking you hand.
"deal."
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Let's play a little game | Ethan Landry x Reader
Summary: You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…
Word count: 2k
Warnings: smut, fingering, p + v action, ambiguous consent, home invasion, cheating,
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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You looked at your reflection in the mirror as you brushed your hair, admiring how hot your body looked in those small shorts and cami. The rumors were true, you really looked your best in your early adulthood. You posed, making sure all your curves were in a flattering angle, and sent a picture to your boyfriend. It was a bummer Chad was away in Woodsboro for the weekend when you looked that good.
After exchanging some naughty texts with Chad, you called Tara if she wanted to come over and watch horror movies. The weather had been gloomy and cold all day, which was perfect for the occasion.
���’If you had called me two hours ago, I would be running over in my pajamas and bringing along my fuzzy blanket, but I may have gotten a call from a certain brunet from my film class and agreed to go on a date…tonight.’’ Tara covered her mouth to stifle her excitement, but you could hear it in her voice.
A smile bloomed on your lips, excited for your friend. ‘’Oh my god! He did?’’
‘’Yes.’’ On the other side of the line, Tara paused, her head full of Tyler. ‘’I’m so nervous. It’s my first date ever.’’
‘’It’ll be okay, T,’’ you reassured her. ‘’And if he turns out to be a jerk, excuse yourself to the bathroom and send me a text. I’ll call you and fake an emergency.’’
Tara promised, then hung up to finish getting ready for her date. She needed to leave before Sam got home and asked a plethora of questions. Maybe she’ll do a full search on Tyler to make sure he’s not a crazy Stab fanatic like her own ex-boyfriend.
You were about to shoot a text to Anika, but your phone rang again. This time, the caller ID was masked.
You answered with a frown.
‘’Hello?’’ a distorted male voice said.
Your frown deepened. ‘’Eh, shouldn’t I be the one saying ‘hello’?’’
‘’Who is this?’’
‘’Who are you trying to reach?’’
‘’I don’t know.’’ There was a short silence, then the man spoke again. ‘’Do you like scary movies?’’
‘’Yeah.’’ You took a body-spray from your vanity desk and spritzed a little on you, smiling when the sweet caramel scent filled the air.
‘’What’s your favorite scary movie?’’
You took a moment to think. ‘’Probably Jennifer’s Body. Does that count? It’s more of a horror comedy, but I’ve watched it a thousand times.’’
The stranger hummed. ‘’The one with the hot chick that eats her best friend’s boyfriend?’’
‘’Yes!’’
‘’Speaking of boyfriend, do you have a boyfriend?’’
‘’Why? You want to ask me out on a date?’’ you joked, fixing the pendant of your necklace that had flipped over.
‘’Maybe.’’
‘’If you want to ask someone out on a date, calling on a masked ID is not the best way. It gives off stalker vibes.’’
‘’I’m not a stalker.’’
‘’How can I know you’re not?’’
‘’If I were a stalker, I would tell you how hard my cock is just from looking at you in those pajamas.’’
You gulped uncomfortably, standing from your vanity chair and going to your window to peer through the curtains to see if anyone was outside. You were on the tenth floor. How would anyone get up there from the outside? It didn’t make sense.
But it was the only window in your bedroom…
‘’I…I’m gonna hang up. I need to take my dog out.’’
It was a lie. You didn’t have a dog, but the stranger on the other end didn’t know that.
‘’Don’t hang up on me!’’ he yelled at you.
You did anyway.
Seconds later, the phone rang again. Fuck.
‘’Why are you calling again?’’ you snapped at the caller, not bothering to check the ID. You knew it was him.
‘’To apologize, of course.’’
‘’Okay. You did. Now bye.’’ You pulled the phone away from your ear, but the man yelled at you.
‘’If you hang up again, I’ll come inside and gut you!’’
The threat was stronger and starting to scare you, but you couldn’t let him know.
‘’You’re bluffing,’’ you said, praying your voice wouldn’t falter. ‘’I’m on a high floor. You can’t get to me.’’
‘’From the outside, no. But who said I’m not already inside.’’
Fear settled in your guts as your phone buzzed with a text message. A picture. Someone in a Ghostface mask standing in your bedroom. He had a knife in his hand and you had a feeling it wasn’t a fake one.
When was this taken? And where was he now?
You searched your vanity for something to use as a weapon. There was a ton of makeup, a few perfume bottles, your hairbrush — all useless. Then your eyes fell on your manicure scissors. You used them a few nights ago to cut a thread from a shirt. They were small but pointy. It could injure your stalker.
Scissors tight in your hand, you stood from your chair and ventured to your living area. It was a very small apartment. The living room and kitchen were merged into the same room and all the lights were off. You turned the main light on, illuminating the whole room, but saw no one.
The curtains were closed. They were tall and thick enough for someone to hide behind.
Putting your fictive big-girl pants on, you walked to the window to check, but jumped and when you heard the distorted voice in your ear.
‘’Let’s play a little game. I say something and you do as I say….or else I’ll use that sharp knife on you. Got it?’’
You gulped and nodded. A part of you wanted to call the cops and signal a home invasion, but if your intruder was already inside, they would never get to you on time. Even at night, New York traffic was a nightmare.
‘’Take those little shorts off. I want to see those lacey panties you have on underneath.’’
You didn’t want to, but you reached for your small dolphin shorts anyway. You weren’t shy with your body, but getting undressed for a stranger to jerk off to you made you stomach churn. Your fingers touched your waistband, about to pull your shorts down, but stopped when you remembered you were not wearing anything under.
‘’I-I'm not wearing any.’’
‘’Don't lie to me. I can see those tiny shorts from here.’’
You looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was hiding. Your bedroom window was already out of the options. Your bed was a box and your closet and the bathroom door were shut. Where the hell was he hiding?
‘’Not the shorts,’’ you corrected. ‘’The panties.’’
‘’Naughty girl.’’
You should be disgusted, but you found yourself blushing — and slightly turned on — at the creepy stranger's words. Was it the Ghostface mask that was suddenly having this effect on you? You did feel a strange liking to the masked killers when you watched horror movies.
‘’Strip.’’
You fumbled to push your dolphin shorts down and out of the way, exposing yourself bare.
‘’Now go back to your room, get on the bed and sit against the pillows.’’
You did as told and leaned back into your pillows, but kept your knees closed. You could sense where this was going. Men loved to watch a girl touch herself. If you look at their internet history, you’ll find a ton of porn videos of women touching themselves.
He tutted you. ‘’Don't try to hide. Spread your legs. I want to see.’’
You knew you shouldn’t part your legs, but your arousal was getting stronger at every instruction. It’s like he had casted a spell on you and you were helpless to disobey him.
God, you should be disgusted with yourself. How could you be turned on by a masked intruder in a Ghostface mask asking you to strip and give him a free view of your intimate parts?
Shutting your subconscious, you parted your legs and exposed yourself, shivering when you felt the cool air of the room.
You heard a groan in your ear. ‘’That’s a beautiful pussy. Show me how wet you are for me.’’
Your free hand slid down your body and to your mound, then lower. You sighed as you reached your folds, spreading them and showing the way your lips glistened with wetness.
‘’Am I wet enough for you, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked into the room, sliding your finger up and down your folds a couple of times.
‘’Why don’t you stick a finger inside? Play with yourself for me.’’
A soft moan slipped from your lips as you did, your finger sliding easily. You thrusted in slowly, then out, and repeated. The pace was too slow for your personal liking, but you knew how to tease and turn on a partner. Watching a video of your fingers sinking in and out of yourself, coated with your arousal had made your boyfriend cum in his dorm bed many times.
But let’s not talk about Chad now.
You added a second finger and caught your bottom lip between your teeth when you curled them. You wish you had your pink vibrator for your clit, but your other hand was occupied holding your phone.
‘’Mmh, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.’’
‘’Are you touching yourself to the sight of me, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked, bringing your thumb to your clit and rubbing.
A distorted whimper came from the other side of the line. He was.
The sensations from your touches were sending fuzzy tingles from your neck to your dripping pussy, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.
‘’Is that all you’re going to do? Are you going to just watch me fuck myself for your own pleasure like a selfish asshole…or are you going to come and fuck me?’’
The line went dead and all the lights went off, sending chills down your spine. You removed your fingers, unsure if this was part of the game or not.
‘’Hello?’’ you called into the darkness of your bedroom. ‘’Is someone there?’’
It was stupid to ask, having seen enough horror movies to know what happens to characters who ask that very question.
The light returned with a static noise and you jumped when seeing a tall Ghostface figure standing at the end of your bed, watching you intently. He pounced on your bed like a lion on his prey, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you toward him.
A deafening scream left your throat, thinking he was going to kill you. Instead, he parted your thighs and lifted his robe, his pants already down to his thighs and his hard cock out. He wasted no time, thrusting himself between your wet folds and splitting your cunt open as you moaned out loud.
‘’You like being filled with my cock, uh? You unfaithful little whore!’’ the distorted voice said, grabbing your hips and pounding into you. ‘’Getting fucked by someone else while her boyfrined is away in California.’’
Unfortunately, you couldn't deny it. This cock felt fucking amazing.
You pushed all thoughts of Chad to the back of your head. You’ll figure this out later.
Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the man between your legs.
The sounds that rang from your throat were nothing short of obscene, mouth hanging open helplessly while he wrecked your pussy, his cock slick with the evidence of your arousal. You clawed at your sheets, your back arching from the bed from the intense pleasure filling your whole body.
Moans and grunts mixed with wheezings came from underneath the mask. Breathing must not be easy under the rubber mask. You reached out and took it off, gasping in shock when seeing who was underneath.
Ethan?!
You opened your mouth to speak, but he threw your legs over his shoulders and you cried out at the change of angle, not caring that your boyfriend’s roommate was fucking you.
Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys
All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly
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abyssruler · 1 year
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plausible deniability
scaramouche x gn!reader
your boyfriend is nice, your boyfriend is sweet, but your boyfriend is also a serial killer. “relax, it’s just a dead body,” he tells you like he hadn’t just hit a man on the head with a brick hard enough to crack his skull. well, at least he did it to defend you? or — scaramouche kills people and you have the world’s biggest ‘i can fix him’ complex. (modern au)
crack, comedy, a few people die but who cares, scara is soft for one person and one person only and that’s you, “i would kill for you, in fact, i have killed for you.” “honey, did you take your meds today?” - scara and reader
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You were never a fan of true crime documentaries, or horror movies, or gory shows, or anything that involved excessive blood spraying and lightless eyes staring into the camera.
So, it would stand to reason that at the first sign of your boyfriend being more than into those kinds of things, you would’ve turned tail and ran as far away as you can, right?
Unfortunately, you’ve always been blind to the color red.
…Figurative red, that is, because the red seeping through your couch and the ones coated on your boyfriend’s hands are definitely visible to you, bright and dripping and most definitely staining your pristine white rugs that you just bought last week. Ah, how are you going to explain that to the laundry lady?
“Scara, honey, what did I say about killing other people?” you ask, voice visibly strained.
He sneers at the face of the dead guy sitting haphazardly on your couch. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
You sigh.
It wasn’t always like this, with the whole blood viscera happy-murder thing.
Your boyfriend, Scaramouche, had this odd habit of being so immersed in the news, a little smile lighting up his face (which you’d thought was cute at the time and, well, you still do) whenever the reporter gets to the local murders that used to have you shaking in fear on your bed.
He was charming though. A little possessive, but that was a trait you also thought was quite endearing—and, if you’re being honest, you still do. Scaramouche had a vast collection of sharp knives, some small and practically harmless (or as harmless as a knife can be) and others… not so harmless. You didn’t question it because he often cooked for you, your brain chalking it up to him using those knives for it.
It wasn’t until you were walking home alone from university that you discovered his little hobby of, well, killing people who inconvenienced you and him. Mostly people who inconvenienced you though, which was disturbing but also flattering in a crazy sort of way.
“Relax, it’s just a dead body,” he told you like he hadn’t just hit a man on the head with a brick hard enough to crack his skull.
You were cowering on the alley’s wall, eyes wide and knees shaking as you watched your supposedly nice and caring boyfriend wipe away the blood on his hand like it’s a normal occurrence. And when he grinned down at the body, something almost satisfied in his eyes, you realized that he was the cause for all the recent murders popping up in the city.
Now, the thing about this is that you should have run away screaming bloody murder, maybe call the cops or even do the sensible thing like break up with your boyfriend who’s apparently a psycho.
And you would have done it, if he just hadn’t been so… so…
He turned to you with concern shining in his eyes, stepping over the corpse of the man who’d pointed a pocket knife at you and tried to rob you. With hands still slicked with blood, he cradled your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s a good thing you weren’t hurt.”
…sweet.
And as he pulled you away from the crime scene, dragging you home and running a hot bath for you both, asking you what you wanted for dinner like he hadn’t just murdered someone in front of you, you finally calmed down and saw the truth of the matter.
Yes, your boyfriend is quite possibly a serial killer, yes, you might just be making the worst decision of your life, and yes, you’re well aware this is because of all the wattpad bad boy stories you consumed when you were young, but you’ll be damned if you let Scaramouche go. He was kind (at least, to you he is), he was charming (when he wanted to be), he was a great cook, he was good with kids and the elderly, he was smart, and finally, he would never cheat on you.
So, while there might be the unfortunate addition of him being a little too happy with the idea of killing someone (have, in fact, killed someone, multiple someones at that), he was also the perfect boyfriend you could ask for. He just needs a little guidance, is all.
The next day, he proudly showed you the severed hand of a man who once made you cry because he groped you.
…Okay, a lot of guidance, but you can manage, you’ve read tons of bad boy turns good after falling in love type of stories. How difficult can it be to have your murderous boyfriend change his ways?
Quite difficult, as it turns out.
A quick google on why people become murderers brought up a lot of questions and concerns for you, and while you’re well aware that google isn’t exactly the most reliable place when it comes to looking for advice, it’s also the only place you can go to without getting arrested for assisted murder—even though you’ve never actually helped Scaramouche when he goes all ham crazy on the general populace.
You sit him down on your couch, which was now free of blood thanks to google’s advice and good ol’ handy-dandy hydrogen peroxide.
Like this, facing each other and holding his hands, it almost seems like an actual, legitimate therapy session, minus the whole licensed psychiatrist thing. But hey, you’ve read tons of articles on the internet, so while you may be lacking in some aspects (namely, the fact that you don’t have any idea what you’re doing and aren’t qualified at all to be your crazy boyfriend’s therapist), you’re confident you can just wing it.
“Baby,” you start. Calling him endearments was an advice you picked up from reddit. A kind user named ballz3000 said that referring to them sweetly using innocent pet names can make them softer and calm their homicidal tendencies. “You know I don’t like it when you bring home dead bodies.”
According to another user named yn-yournuts, being open and communicating your feelings is the first step to establishing a healthy relationship and, consequently, a better mental state.
“It would’ve been difficult hiding the body at daytime,” he grouches, but he still keeps a gentle hold on your hands, which is a good thing. Baby steps, you tell yourself, baby steps—even though those baby steps might as well be called snail steps, wait, snail slithers.
“Then you should’ve waited until it was dark or midnight to kill him,” comes your immediate response—wait, damn it! You’re supposed to encourage him to steer away from murder, not give him advice on how to do it better. Smiling, you attempt to salvage the situation, “But, of course, it would be better to not kill anyone at all.”
It’s too late. He’s already donning a contemplative look on his face that soon turns into a grin, leaning in and briefly slotting his lips against yours.
“Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll be more careful next time, love,” is all he says before getting up and abruptly ending your impromptu therapy session.
And admittedly, there must be something wrong with you too, because instead of being horrified at his words, you giggle to yourself.
This is the first time he called you love!
Alright, so operation therapy failed, it’s now time to charge in like a boar. Straightforwardness is always good according to that one article you found in google made by Hugh G. Bawles.
The two of you were in bed, the lights already turned off, when you took a deep breath and began preparing what you were going to say to him to prevent any more innocent people being killed.
Scara, I don’t like it when you kill people.
Baby, don’t show me anymore dead body parts.
Why did you become a murderer?
Sometimes, I feel like we’re a normal couple, but then you’ll suddenly go and casually bring me a bloody finger as a gift.
But instead of saying any of those, what comes out of your mouth is,
“Darling, I think you’re just confusing your constipation for homicidal urges.”
In hindsight, maybe attempting to start a heart to heart talk in the middle of the night just before a morning class was a bad idea.
You wait a few seconds, then minutes, and when he showed no signs of responding, you turn your head only to find him with his eyes closed and sound asleep.
Fine, you’ll just have to try again tomorrow.
You share exactly one class with Scaramouche and it’s philosophy. Unfortunately, it’s also the class with the worst professor known to mankind.
“Ah, I got a low grade…” you mutter to yourself, looking down at your essay forlornly.
Your boyfriend takes one peak at your paper and immediately scowls. “You spent an entire night writing that.” He turns a glare to the professor currently ignorant of the murderer sitting in his class. “That asshole should’ve given you a perfect score. Maybe I should give him a little visit.”
You calmly take his hand under the table and squeeze it, all too used to him casually alluding to killing other people. “Dear, we talked about this. What do we do when we’re having homicidal thoughts?”
He looks down the table, brows furrowed in a sulking manner. “Don’t do it.”
You beam, proud at him for remembering the one thing you keep reminding him whenever he brings a dead body back to your house.
The blonde twins seated in front of you turn their head in horror after overhearing your conversation.
“What are you looking at?” Scaramouche sneers at the same time you say, “We’re roleplaying.”
“Right…” the long haired twin you distinctly remember was named Aether mumbles before he ushers his sister to ignore the two of you.
Oh well, at least you managed to stop one person from dying today. User tojiscrustysock on twitter always says you should take whatever victories you can, so you’ll consider this a resounding success.
When you open the news next morning, the face of your professor is the first thing you see along with the words, found dead near his home.
You turn to your boyfriend sitting beside you, an innocent look on his face as you look at him with disappointment.
“My hand slipped,” is the flimsy excuse he settles for.
Sighing and utterly out of options, you’re forced to resort to the one thing you didn’t want to do. The worst possible option there is. If there’s going to a therapist and potentially getting arrested kind of worst, there’s this kind of worst—the absolute worst of the worst.
“Scara, I think we need to start doing yoga.”
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deconstructthesoup · 6 months
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I think the reason that Dimension 20 really scratches all those itches in my brain is that it really shows what you can do with D&D---and TTRPGs as a whole.
Fantasy High, by itself, is an incredibly compelling concept. What would D&D look like in a semi-modern setting? What would a high school that's all about teaching teens how to be adventurers look like? And the way it's done is beyond inventive, especially if you look at all the encounters in the first season---we've got a literal food fight, a high-speed road chase with tiefling greasers, a nightclub brawl with zombies, vampires, and werewolves, a skating match with a bunch of dwarven middle schoolers and a concrete golem, a high-stakes game of football (ish) with undead jocks that give off major teen slasher vibes, a fight done in an arcade where characters can get trapped in the consoles, and the final battle is done at prom. PROM! How cool is that?
And then we get to the Unsleeping City, which takes the urban fantasy elements that Fantasy High already had and elevates it. The way the D&D lore and magic is interpreted in a modern New York setting is excellent, as is the whole take on the "American Dream," magic literally coming from dreams, ideas, and the imagination. I know that I need to actually finish the UC saga, but from what I've seen and experienced, it is truly fantastic.
And the same energy carries through to the other seasons---my personal favorite outside of Fantasy High being A Court of Fey and Flowers, just because I'm a sucker for any Fey Realm content and I've been raised on Jane Austen---where the genre mashups shine through in the best way possible. I'll admit, I haven't seen A Crown of Candy, purely because I know how heartbreaking and devastating it is and I don't think I can physically handle it, but the concept of Candyland Game of Thrones is so beautifully bizarre that I totally get why people love it so much. Escape from the Bloodkeep hitting that workplace comedy vibe that we love to see in villains. Misfits & Magic being a love letter to the "magical boarding school" genre while also calling out all the weird contradictions inherent in it. A Starstruck Odyssey literally being an homage to Brennan's mom and exactly the kind of madcap and unhinged energy I need from my sci-fi. Neverafter perfectly encapsulating the true horror of fairy tales. Mentopolis hitting my noir-loving heart and personifying hyperfixation in the best way possible.
I'm not even kidding when I say that, if it weren't for Dimension 20... I probably wouldn't have even started my own campaign. I'd had snippets and ideas ever since officially getting into D&D and joining a game with some old friends (and getting back in touch with them in the process), but after I saw the Mentopolis trailer, I realized just how much variety TTRGPs had to offer. I could do a time-blending, history-meets-future campaign. I could go out-of-the-box. I could have endless amounts of options available to my friends and still tell the story that I wanted to tell. And when I sat down and watched Fantasy High---and when I got that Dropout subscription so I could consume whatever I wanted---it felt like the show was actually giving me advice. It's fantastic.
Also it helps that the episodes are usually only roughly a couple hours instead of being, like, an entire afternoon long. And that each season is 20 episodes, tops. No offense to Critical Role, but the sheer amount of content literally makes it impossible for me to get into it.
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