i made this because it's one of my favorite line from him

Adding to canon is not the same thing as destroying canon

At San Diego Comic Con, we learned that Sonequa Martin-Green’s character, Michael Burnham, is Sarek’s adoptive daughter. The second I heard the news, all I could think was, “Let the hate begin.” And boy, did it ever.

I understand the disappointment, particularly with fan fic writers who invested a lot of time and effort into crafting stories that fit neatly into canon. Amazing how one sound bite can bulldoze right through decades of widely accepted fanon, huh?

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The Guest House

Description: Yoongi the hostel owner slowly develops a rapport with a girl and her friends that keep visiting.  Maybe a bit of a flirtatious one.  Maybe even a little crush.  One night he gets protective on a date gone bad and it leads to smut.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: So, basically, this is based off an experience I had last week. Not the smut part (ughhhhh), but the whole hostel owner coming to save the day when this dude just wouldn’t get the hint and leave. I relayed the experience to @ellieljade , because I needed her to die with me, and we both decided it should be used for smut fuel. Like grown adults. 

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Cat Got Your Tongue Pt. 1 (M)

Word Count: 5,463

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: catboy!tae, comedy, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: When your boyfriend cheats on you you’re left heartbroken and lost all hope in relationships. Santa says you’ll find love soon, but what do you do when you’re beloved cat turns into a beautiful grown man?

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Today I asked @ufficiosulretro why her Gabe always had red underwear and she dared me to write a ficlet about it. 

So this is it, my love letter to Irene’s red briefs and converse.


“What’s up with you and red briefs?”


Jack blamed the grueling regimen of the Soldier Enhancement Program for how his mouth just decided to go ahead and make a fool out of him.,


“Staring at my ass, farm boy?” His roommate was a couple of years older than him, ridiculously handsome and top of the class. Every class. It didn’t really matter, Gabriel Reyes seemed capable to do just about everything. Jack was both intimidated and wildly turned on.

No!I just,” He flushed to the roots of his hair “They’re all red? And it’s really weird? Wait, I didn’t mean…not that you’re weird or anything, it’s just peculiar, it stands out. Not your ass, the color.”


The ass too.


Jack tried to stop his hands, what did people normally do with their hands? Gabriel arched one eyebrow and erupted in genuine laughter, he felt like an idiot.


“”You were just joking.”


“You got to relax, John.”


“Umh, it’s…Jack, actually. I go by Jack. John’s my dad.”


“Well, Jack…” His voice was so smooth. “ I buy my underwear in stock ‘cause it’s cheaper, those five pair, ten dollars kinda of deal, you know? And they are all the same color because I’m shit at laundry.” He jumped a bit wiggling into his pajama pants, Jack couldn’t fight a smile


“So you are human, after all.”


Gabriel tilted his head “What? ”


Jack hurried to turn the attention away from his hero worship  “Why red though?” He asked perhaps louder than strictly necessary. “All black or white would be easier to wash.”


“It’s my favorite color, give me a break.”


They both got into their respective bunks. This was nice, Jack thought, getting to know each other. Becoming friends. They certainly would need one in the shit show that S.E.P promised to be.


“You could always learn how to separate whites and colors.” He teased, Gabriel went very quiet, and Jack wondered if he stepped over some kind of new friendship line until he chuckled and replied with a:


“You could always admit you were staring at my ass.”


Jack didn’t admit it, even though it was true. Not then, anyway.


Eight months later, he gave Gabe a pair of red converse for his birthday, Gabriel tried to mock him for being “a huge dork who remembers stuff like someone’s favorite color, you’ll make me develop a complex.” But he really liked them, Jack could tell.


“Gabe, I love you, but with the number of times you made all my stuff pink with your briefs in my laundry I couldn’t forget it if I tried.” He said absentmindedly.


“You what, now?”


And that’s the story of how Jack Morrison told Gabriel Reyes “I love you” for the first time. (Without even noticing.)

fictionandmusic  asked:

wow your writing in the gods and monsters series is amazing! i've always loved greek myths and you bring them to life and add a different twist that makes it better than anything i've ever read about mythology!! if you have time, could you do a continuation of the Hades and Kore story? Kore/Persephone is one of my fav goddesses and i can't wait to see where you take her story!

(continuation of: x, x)

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she is reckless and stubborn and feels like she has so little left to lose, only an overbearing mother she yearns to escape.

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she fights and swims and survives. She is picked up on the shore and carried to safety in Hades’s arms.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she is reckless and stubborn and feels like she has everything to lose. She lets the water take her, and she drowns.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, it kills her.

~

Kore wakes up after falling unconscious while being carried by the King of the Underworld. Her skin is fully healed, no longer blistering and burning. She’s naked under the soft blankets, but she was naked when she dove into the river, so she’s not too worried about it.

“I didn’t know you were a goddess,” someone says, and she turns her head to see a little girl sitting by her bedside with black skin and grey eyes and hair. She’s glaring at her, “I wouldn’t have tried to kill you if I’d known. You shouldn’t touch my water – it’s not good for you. It will kill you. It does not care what you are.”

“It did not kill Achilles,” Kore says, pushing herself up so the blanket falls to her waist.

The young Lady Styx huffs and gets to her feet, pushing open the long wardrobe on the other side of the room. “It did, actually. What my river takes, it keeps.” Kore raises an eyebrow. Styx doesn’t explain further, only places a dark blue gown on the bed. “Hecate put some of her old things in here for you. She’s taller and thinner than you are. But you are a goddess. You can make it work.”

“I can,” Kore agrees, amused. She pushes herself out of bed, and her hair falls into her face.

Her hair has been a dark brown her whole life.

She strides over to the wardrobe and pulls it open, starring at herself in the mirror.

Her hair has turned pure, snowy white. The hair on her head of course, but the rest of it too. Her eyebrows, the light hair on her arms and legs, going down her navel, the hair between her legs – all of it white.

“You’re lucky nothing worse happened,” Styx scolds. “My river usually does much worse than that.”

Kore touches one of her new, pale eyebrows. “That is an excellent point, Lady Styx.”

With some clever magic, Kore pulls on the now perfectly fitting gown. Hecate doesn’t tend to bother with them, only dresses up if there’s some sort of celebration that requires her attendance – something that hasn’t happened in a long time, ever since she irritated Zeus and Poseidon to the point that they called for her head on a spike. The gown is old, even by their standards, but its beautifully crafted, stars plucked from the heavens and sewn into the bodice, waves from the seven seas curling around the long skirt. “This is very valuable,” she says, “Is Hecate sure she would like me to have it?”

Styx shrugs, “She said it was a young woman’s dress, and however she may look, she’s not a young woman any more. It’s my favorite dress of hers – I was quite cross that she gave it to you, but I did almost kill you. So I suppose that’s fair enough.”

“Ah,” Kore says, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I see.”

Styx grins at her and grabs her hand. The child goddess’s skin is freezing to the touch, but Kore doesn’t flinch back out of fear of being rude. “Come with me now. Hades wants to see you.”

The girl leads her through the twisting hallways to a polished wooden door. It’s not the throne room, where Kore thought that the girl would take her. She’s seen the grand inner chambers of Poseidon and Zeus’s homes before, of the lesser gods even, and Kore braces herself for something just as grandiose and intimidating.

Styx opens the door and pushes her inside before vanishing.

Kore blinks and looks around.

The room is smaller than she expected. It’s lined with shelves packed with scrolls, and mounted on the opposite wall is large map that’s constantly shifting and changing, and it take her almost a full minute of looking at it to realize it’s a map of the underworld.

“You’re looking better.”

Kore’s eyes snap down, and it’s only then that she notices the figure of Hades, King of the Underworld, hunched over his desk. His hair pulled in messy low ponytail, and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s in a simple black chiffon, one no more presumptuous than any mortal noble would wear. He’s the most unassuming, unremarkable thing in already unassuming, unremarkable room.

Suddenly, she feels over-dressed.

“Thank you,” she says, not knowing what else to say. She feels – awkward, almost, in front of him, which isn’t something she’s ever felt with anyone. She wants to climb into his lap and rest her head against his shoulder. She wants to force him into some proper clothes for a king. She wants to put him to bed and make him sleep until he loses those bruises under his eyes.

She’s never wanted to do any of those things for anyone before. She doesn’t even know him.

Although – she knows he came for her. That he found an intruder into his realm and picked her up and soothed her, carried her to safety and washed her of the corrosive water of the Styx. He placed her in his palace and did not touch her as so many other men would have touched her.

So perhaps she does know him. At least a little.

He rests his chin on his hand while he looks at her. “Hermes came with a message from your mother, demanding your return.” She doesn’t even have the time to panic before he continues, “I denied her. If she wishes to speak to me in person, I told her she is welcome to step into my realm herself.”

“She won’t do that,” Kore says, “She fears your realm. She fears how her power means nothing in your domain.”

Kore had never known her mother to fear anything – except the land of the dead. She’d grown up thinking Hades must be a hulking, formidable figure to pull fear from her mother’s breast, but that’s clearly not the case.

He smiles, and it’s the first hint of sharpness she’s seen from him. “I know. There will be consequences, of course. But those are my concern. You are a guest of my realm, Goddess of Spring. Walk where you please, and do as you please. No one will stop you.”

He’s already looking back down at his papers, eyebrows drawing together as he scratches out a series of numbers and rewrites them. It’s a clear dismissal, but Kore can’t bring herself to move.

She’s never met this man before. Yet he stands against her mother, yet he welcomes her to his realm, yet he permits unrestricted access to his home, yet he grants her every freedom he’s able.

“Thank you,” she says again. He gives an absent nod, already reaching for another scroll.

She leaves as quietly as she came.

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Inspired by THIS POST about gay Disney Princesses. 


When the old beggar comes to the door, Addy knows better than to let her in. She doesn’t look at the rose or the woman too long; she shuts the door.

Some will call her arrogant or selfish, but what is she to do? No guards, parents in the capital (not, here, not here), and the knowledge that she is the damsel in all those fairy tales weighs heavily on her mind. Oh, little princess, far from home and alone, so alone.

The Enchantress (for they do not call her witch) makes sure that she stays that way.

Alone except for her wilting rose.

(She did not want it, would not take it, so she was bound to it. Such is the way of Princesses.)

———————————-

Addy used to have frightful bursts of temper. Her face would turn red, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, mouth screwed into an upside down kidney bean. Anything could set her off; a too tight corset, a walk ended too quickly, another toy sword taken away. She’d wail and scream, kick her feet and punch the air, tear and rend anything within arm’s reach.

The first time she has a fit in her new form, it’s after Mrs. Potts reads the King and Queen’s decision on her…condition. She’s to stay here, on the outskirts of their kingdom, until a Prince comes to release her from her spell. Alone until a different sort of bond is forced on her, until she is made to change from princess to beast to bride.

Addy know why they refuse to save her. It’s because she’s always been too big, too strong, too ill-tempered, too–

In her rage, Addy upends the tea tray, forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.

She is reminded when fine china falls to the hard ground, when it rattles, when it shatters, when it screams.

“No!” Addy falls to her knees next to her dishes– no, her friends and frantically rights them, apologies tumbling from her lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Temper,” Mrs. Potts murmurs, more out of reflex than anything, looking obviously terrified. She hops from her side to her base, better able to control her new body than any other castle resident. Her lid is sitting askew and her eyes are wide (so wide) as they dart from one cup to another. “Daniel? Daniel!”

Addy cuts herself on broken porcelain and flinches. She–she’d killed him, she’d been so thoughtless, how could she? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

“I’m okay,” a little voice says. “I’m okay, Mom!”

 Addy sobs as she locates him under the silver platter, on his side, trapped. She throws the platter too hard, lodging it in the wall, and takes Daniel in her paws.  

“It’s okay, Princess Addy,” Daniel chirps at her. He’s a little older than her, just a few years, and he’s always trying to be strong. His eyes are wide (too wide), but he offers her a tremulous smile. “I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Potts says and her china clinks as she hops forward. 

Addy’s eyes lock on the horrible, huge chip in his rim. 

I did that.

She’s across the room before being aware of setting Daniel down, of standing, of leaping away.

“Princess,” Mrs. Potts says from her low, low position on the floor. “What–”

“Don’t call me that,” Addy grits out. Her huge body leans heavily against the door, making it groan, as she desperately tries to wrap her paw around the handle. She can’t stop looking at the chip, the proof of harm, the proof that something much worse can happen so easily. “Don’t call me– I’m not–I’m not the Princess. I’m the Beast.”

The door crashes open and she disappears.

————————————————

It’s weeks before the servants realize that she’s never going to answer to her name again. She no longer sleeps in her princess bed or attempts to wear her princess clothes. She wears pants scavenged from the servants’ quarters, tunics from her father’s closet, ties her mane back with twine instead of ornaments.

“Addy!” they call. “Princess Addy!”

The Beast doesn’t even know who that is.

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let’s just talk for a moment here. 

I’m gonna say itLena Luthor loves Kara Danvers. loves her. and there are soooo many reasons why. 

first, let’s just list the reasons off the bat, then I’ll explain my reasonings. 

  • donuts
  • lip bites/glances/looks
  • the thirst factor
  • food dates
  • meeting Alex
  • gala
  • flowers
  • her heroics
  • “I’ve never stood behind a man” 
  • “I’m here for you, if you still want that”
  • “I miss you”
  • “I didn’t see your name on the by line”/ “unquit”
  • “I trust you”/Catco
  • heart emoji

ok let’s get started:

first, the doughnuts.

 lena is known for eating healthy. she drinks kombucha. she gets kara to probably eat vegetables. y’know the regular. probably is on a no carb diet. we never see her eating anything bad, because she’s probably been preened all her life to be picture perfect and eat only what’s good for you. but here comes her bff, her gal pal kara danvers, traipsing in with a bag of doughnuts. this happened a couple times, actually. lena indulged in a doughnut for kara. 

the lip bites, holy fuck. I’m going to tie this in with the glances too. because holy mother of god. 

lena is always checking kara out, biting her lip (most likely surprising moans bc hot damn she’s in love with this woman) and the looks. the looks of. pure. unadulterated. love. 

I mean you cannot tell me the look on lena’s face is anything but love? come on. even a blind man could tell. 

next, lena’s thirst factor. 

girl, she is always, always, (almost) always seen with a drink when around kara! 

exhibit A: their first meeting, lena has to pause and get herself a damn glass of water

exhibit B: granted, yes they’re at a restaurant, but lena’s got an almost empty glass, bc hot damnvers kara is something. (lets take in account that kara’s glass is empty)

exhibit C: in the most recent episode 3.01, lena is yet again, shown pouring herself some water bc girl is thirsty af 

exhibit D: oh looky here, Lena’s getting a drink. I am pretty sure Kara just makes her speechless and she needs water to talk

exhibit E: y’all see where I’m going with this, right?

their brunch/lunch/dinner/kombucha dates

lena always seems to have a food date with kara. always. I mean it’s one thing to have one on occasion but they’re known to have these? and I know damn well that kara isn’t always the one to initiate them. lena is probably the one to invite her because she’s rich and offers to feed kara’s immense appetite. 

what about the first time lena was introduced to Alex properly?

this. this is the face of jealousy. she shows up unannounced at kara’s apartment (where’d she even get kara’s address?) and sees this beautiful woman in kara’s apartment and she’s jealous af, and Alex doesn’t let on anything. doesn’t, for a split second, let on that she’s kara’s sister, because I’m pretty sure she knew what Lena’s thoughts were. she knew for a flash of a second, lena was actually jealous, but ew gross, kara is her sister, and that’s when kara finally speaks up, and Lena’s face softens, and she remembers what she actually came over for… 

the gala

she invites, not only kara and supergirl to the gala, but kara’s man friend, mike of the interns, because she doesn’t care. if kara’s friends with this person, she figures she can trust this person too, who tf cares if you met them five seconds ago and could’ve easily told him “It’s an elite party, and I’m inviting kara as my plus one, sorry” but no, she extends an invitation to mike of the interns…

the flowers: plumerias

these are plumerias, for anyone who hasn’t seen them before. they come in all different colors, ranging from blues, pinks, purples, melon, peach, yellow and white. they are an exotic flower, and a bit hard to come by. they have to be imported, usually from Hawaii. they have a few different meanings, but in Chinese, they symbolize love. they mean “I love you” and “you are special” 

and kara’s office, just so happens to be overflown with flowers, most likely plumerias because she mentioned they remind her of her mother, and lena would totally import those flowers and fill her office as a thank you to saving her just because she loves kara. and you know damn well she knows what those flowers mean. she’s smart, we’ll touch on this fact later.

lena being a hero

she is.. its a fact. whether it’s supergirl or kara danvers’s hero, national city’s hero, or anyone’s hero, lena is a hero. 

lena chooses kara and being the hero and will always choose kara and being the hero. when it came to saving jack or saving supergirl, she chose kara over her ex-lover. and we can probably assume that because a) lena is young and b) lena is a luthor, jack was probably her only real relationship. she did love him, you could tell with the emotion from the kiss and even the relaxed-ness of her date with him, they were friends. and she did miss is company, though she wouldn’t date him again. yet then it comes to kara, as supergirl, and she has to choose whether to save jack or end his life to save national city’s hero. she chooses to let jack go, therefore ultimately killing him so she can save kara. she also saves kara’s man child boyfriend from the evil daxamite guard. by shooting him with an alien gun. and she and Winn made whatever that thing was under the table at the gala and it stopped those evildoers from attacking supergirl, and the kicker, my favorite, saving the whole population of national city, not once, but fucking twice.

in s2e8 lena, after finding out her mother is the ringleader of CADMUS, and kara ultimately yells at her and accuses her of knowing what her mother did, etc, still saves national city. she undermines her mother, weasels her way onto her mother’s good side, double-crosses her and makes the medusa virus inert, therefore saving national city’s population of aliens when the only friend she had hated her for the moment. she could’ve easily just given in and killed all the aliens, but she didn’t. she chose to save them because she loves kara and her pro-alien bleeding heart views, even when they sometimes disagree and fight. 

and then again in s2e22, lena, and with the help of Lillian, build a device to rid the planet of the daxamites invading earth. a device that sends out lead into the atmosphere. and she knows what it’ll do. she knows that it’s going to send Mon-el away, and you know she was lowkey happy about that, but she knows it’ll put kara through hell, yet she let’s kara make the ultimate decision to choose whether to go on with it, and kara does. supergirl tells them to use the device. and lena yet again, saves everyone, all because she loves kara and kara is her hero.

and let’s not forget the best time lena was a hero and shot Corbin, therefore saving none other than Special Agent Alex Danvers with the DEO… hot damn, she’s my hero.

lena’s never stood behind a man

*eh hem* I’ll just leave these here. two examples of lena never standing behind a man, because she’s independent and fierce, but Kara is always protecting her and she lets kara/supergirl. we know damn well lena can hold her own, she is a Luthor after all, but she lets kara take the forefront and she stands behind her with grace and poise and love and admiration. 

“I’m here for you, if you still want that”

Lena knows the hell kara is going through. she knows that kara lost her man child thing of a boyfriend she liked for five days. and kara is going through hell. and yet, she’s still cautious. I think this is one of the most significant things ever and we’re going to dissect for a second here. in the second image: kara tells lena “I’m right here” letting lena know she can talk to her and she wants her to, she’s almost willing her to. 

yet in the top image, lena adds the “if you still want that”. she is letting kara know a few things here. a) that she feels guilty over the lead being released in the atmosphere b) she doesn’t want to use kara, because she’s not a talker herself. her walls are always built up so sturdy until kara breaks them down with her super strength and c) she doesn’t want to lose kara. she’s letting her know she’s there if kara wants her because its kara’s choice. she’s not going to force kara into being her friend just because kara is the only friend she has in national city and she will be ready to help kara any way she needs when the time comes. 

“I miss you” 

this also follows with the “if you still want that” because she’s telling kara that she’s being ignored, but she’s not pushing. she knows that kara is distancing herself. but she still lets kara know in a subtle way that she’s still here, she still loves her and that she truly misses her best friend. she just misses her. she misses Kara Danvers, the girl she’s falling in love with more and more as each day passes.

“I didn’t see your name on the by line”/”unquit”

now, first off, kara does anything lena suggests. Lena suggests, she become a reporter and guess who becomes one? Kara. lena tells her in such an unprofessional manner to “unquit” her job. and according to my laptop, unquit isn’t even a word, yet it came out of poised, perfect, prestined Lena Luthor’s mouth. “unquit” 

so kara unquits, and lena sends a heart emoji

a red heart emoji. man, do I have some words about this. Lena, you little lesbian in love with your bestie, damn. lena could’ve easily replied back with a “okay” or “sounds great” or even a “see you tomorrow!” or if we’re going the emoji route: a smiley face, a thumbs up, or fuck idk, a yellow heart? because lena is very, very, very smart. and we all know she knows the meanings that colors represent. like how yellow means happiness, friendship, sunshine, and energy, yet miss luthor sent kara a red heart. red meaning love, passion, heat. you can’t tell me she doesn’t know what they meant. she could’ve replied with so many different ways, yet she chooses a red heart.

and lets not forget the last points: lena buys fricken catco–– “I trust you”

lena “I bought your job for you and I have no fucking idea how to run catco” luthor bought a multimillion dollar corporation so a sexist bottle of cheap cologne couldn’t and she has literally no idea how to run the company, yet she’s enlisting and trusting her best friend and the woman she likes to run it with her. she bought kara a company. because kara asked and she 

lena just dropped everything, and potentially could ruin her career for this woman, and she did it all out of love. 

she even admits to not even knowing how to run the place! yet, just because kara asked, she did it. kara says “jump” and lena asks “how high”. the girl will do anything for the woman she loves. 


anyway, so those are my thoughts and reasonings as to why I believe lena is in love with kara. you can agree or disagree, leave your opinions if you like, but if you’re anti-supercorp please do not leave your opinion. 


*please note: gifs and pictures are NOT mine and I will not take credit for them, I simply borrowed them from the internet. also I stg if the gifs don’t load I will cry, I don’t know if they actually will, let’s hope.

edit: none of the gifs loaded I hate everything… oh fucking well, you get my point and y’all probably know what each gif is a scene of anyway… fml

The Spider Tattoo (Peter Parker x Reader) Soulmate AU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You hate the idea of soulmate tattoo’s, probably because there’s a giant fricking spider on your hip that moves, as most soulmate tattoos do. But see, most soulmate tattoos aren’t huge fucking spiders, so you have the right to be freaked out.

Warnings: Lots of swearing. More than usual. Oops. Requested by @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-asgard

Word Count: 1,072


Soulmates were stupid. Worst idea ever. Who the hell even thought of them? From what you learned in health class, every person has a tattoo appear on their skin when they find what they love best, and that tattoo is on that exact place on their soulmate’s body, meaning somewhere in the world there was a person with an tiny typewriter right behind their ear.

“So why the fuck do I have a giant ass spider on my hip?” You scream at no one in particular, eyeing the ugly thing through your mirror. You pull your sweatshirt down again, covering the spider. The only good part about it was that it resembled Spiderman’s symbol, one of your favorite heroes. On the con side though, whenever a soulmate was feeling strong emotions, their tattoo would move. So once or twice a day, the giant ass spider would move. You cringe at the thought.

You grab your backpack and angrily shove your books into your backpack, muttering rapidly in a mocking voice. “Soulmates are a beautiful thing, they said.”

The backpack was slung over your shoulder as you stomped out the door. “You’ll love getting your tattoo, they said.

“Well they can go fuck themselves!” You scream into the empty house, slamming the door behind you.

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Tips For Writing Time Travel:  An Illustrated Guide.

@jjpivotz asked:

“What is a good way that I could write time travelling without it being cliche?”

Ooh, I love questions like this!  They’re so much fun, and on a somewhat self-indulgent level, they really get me thinking on the tropes themselves.

So without further ado, here are my personal thoughts on writing about time travel:

1.  Embrace the fact that it’s not gonna make total sense.

This goes for a lot of creative fiction.  When I was writing my urban fantasy novel, for example, I used a lot of traditional mythological figures whose duties and depictions (i.e. one humanoid being reaping the dead despite the fact that over a hundred thousand people die a day, billion-year-old entities who still look and behave like teenagers, figures from religions whose world views wildly conflict interacting with each other, etc.) weren’t compatible with what we currently know about the laws of physics.  

And the sooner I resolved not to even attempt to explain it, the sooner my novel improved.  

The wonderful thing about fiction is that it doesn’t have to imitate reality as we know it;  the laws of the physical universe need not apply.  And as long as the characters in your universe accept that, so will the reader.  

I’ve had around twenty beta readers look at my book, and not one of them has poked holes in my casual disregard for the conventionally accepted rules of physical reality.  The suspension of disbelief is an amazing thing.

As for how to best apply this to time travel, take Back to the Future, for example. This is one of the best time travel series ever made, but if you really look at what’s going on, you’ll come to find that none of it really makes any sense at all.

First of all, Marty McFly is a popular high school student whose best friend is an eccentric nuclear physicist.  Conventional wisdom (and just about every fiction writing book or advice blog I’ve ever read) would dictate that this is a pretty heavy plot-point and warrants some explanation.  But the narrative never questions it, and as such neither does the vast majority of its audience.  

It is in this exact manner that Back to the Future handles its heaviest of all plotpoints, the act of time travel, which is the main driving force behind its entire plot.  

How does it explain Doc Brown’s ability to time travel?  Well, he invented the Flux Capacitor, of course.  What is a Flux Capacitor, you ask?  How does it work, exactly?  Well, fucked if I know.  All I know is that the narrative treats it like it’s a real thing, and by default, so do I.    

The same could be said for the magically changing family portrait, the fact that the characters can’t interact with their past or future selves without universal destruction, flying cars, and the fact that the McFlys’ future children inexplicably look exactly like them.  None of it makes any sense.  And it’s fucking magical.

Another of my favorite examples of this is pre-Moffat Doctor Who.  The science is campy, occasionally straight-up ridiculous, and unabashedly nonsensical, yet paves the way for some truly great and thought provoking storylines and commentary.  

Bottom line is, I don’t know how to time travel.  I’m guessing you don’t either, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be asking me for advice on how to write it.  Accept it.  Embrace it.  Don’t be bashful about it – trust me, time travelers are probably a minority in your readership, so they won’t judge you.

So as to what would be a good means of writing time travel, the short answer is:  any way you want.  For obvious reasons, I’d stay away from old cars, police boxes, and phone booths, but with the power of the suspension of disbelief, virtually nothing is off the table:  a pair of magic sneakers, a refrigerator, a closet, a treehouse -oh, crap, that one’s been done before.  But you get the picture.  You can be as creative as you want to be about it.  Don’t be afraid to step outside the police box, so to speak.  

Trust in the magic of the suspension of disbelief, and don’t overthink things.  Your story and readers will thank you.

As for how to avoid other cliches, that brings me to my next point: 

2.  Look at the tried and true tropes of time traveling.  Now subvert them.

This might just be me and my adoration of irony talking, but since you specifically asked how to avoid cliche I’m going to indulge myself here.

Do the exact opposite of what people expect from narratives about time travel.  You know the old trope:  the protagonist steps on a bug, and comes back to the present to find the world being ruled by gorillas.  

I’m not telling you not to include drastic consequences for time travel, because there would probably be quite a few (at least if you believe in the chaos theory, which states every action has a universal reaction.)  

But you could toy around with the idea that fate isn’t something that can ultimately be altered at all, and that all the protagonist accomplishes is solidifying (or even triggering) a pre-existing outcome.   

My knee-jerk suggestion, as someone who takes fiendish glee in incorporating humor into my writing, would be to make the protagonist have some Forrest Gump-type encounters that unwittingly trigger huge, history-defining event, but it can also be significantly more tragic than that:  maybe the protagonist goes back in time to save his father from a hit-and-run car accident, for example, and then accidentally kills him.  Or perhaps he realizes that his father was a bad man (beat his mother, planned on killing someone, etc.) and makes a moral decision to kill him (which is also a great way to ask philosophical questions.  More on that later.)  

I don’t know what kind of time travel your writing or what your style of writing is, but these are things I’d personally just love to play around with.    

Or maybe time travel does change things, but it’s not even close to what the protagonist expected:  maybe his words of wisdom to his newly married mother about true love and the meaning of life and whatnot unexpectedly lead her to realize that she’s deeply unhappy in her current marriage, and he returns to the present to find her divorced (lesbian stepmom optional.)  

Maybe absolutely nothing at all changes, but he realizes that he’s responsible for some famous Mandela Effect, like the Bearenstein/Bearenstain discrepancy.  

Bottom line is, don’t be afraid to do the unexpected.  But conversely, don’t be afraid to use tried and true tropes, either:  regardless of how overdone they may seem to be, they can almost always be rejuvenated when interjected with a thought-provoking plot.

Which brings me to my final point:

3.  Make sure it has something to say.

Science fiction, especially the speculative variety, tends to be best when it begins by asking a question, for which it will later provide an answer.  Take, for example, Planet of the Apes.  The pervasive question of the movie is whether or not humanity is inherently self-destructive, which it ultimately answers with its famed final plot twist that humanity has long since destroyed itself.  

Rod Serling (who was incidentally responsible for the original Planet of the Apes, by the way) did this remarkably well:  almost every episode of the Twilight Zone packed a massive philosophical punch due to the fact that they followed this simplistic formula.  The episode would begin with the presentation of a question, big or small (frequently by the charismatic Serling himself) and by the end of the episode, that question would be answered. 

I’m not going to go in to detail here, as it would spoil the magic of uncovering the plot twists for the first time, but Serling used his speculation to tackle the narrow-mindedness of beauty standards in Eye of the Beholder, the dangers of fascism in Obsolete Man, the communist paranoia of the time period with the Monsters are Due on Maple Street, and countless more.  

I would recommend watching the original Twilight Zone for almost anyone looking to write speculative fiction such as time travel. 

Even if your work isn’t compatible with this specific formula of Question => Debate => Answer (which some work isn’t) it will still need to have some kind of underlying statement to it, or no matter how clever the science fiction is or how original the time travel is, it will fall flat.  

This is why Twilight Zone, Planet of the Apes, Back to the Future, and (pre-Moffat, as I always feel inclined to stress – he does literally the opposite of almost everything I recommend here) Doctor Who still remain widely enjoyed today, despite the fact that many of their tropes have been used many, many times since they original aired.

So for time travel, remember that it is a means, not an end.  You could write the most cliched type of time travel story imaginable, and your audience will still feel fulfilled by it if your message is heartfelt, thought-provoking, and/or poignant.

Maybe you want to use time travel to make a statement about your belief in the existence of fate, or lack thereof.  In this case, using the Sterling Approach, you would have your story begin with the question of whether or not humans can alter or change destiny, allow the narrative/characters to argue the question back and forth for a while, and then ultimately disclose what you believe the answer to be.

Or maybe you want to use time travel to explore or subvert the treachery of history and how it is taught, and show how the true narrative can be explored, purposefully or otherwise, by the victors.  

Maybe you want to show that there’s no clear answer, or maybe no answer at all, a la the cheerful nihilism of Douglas Adams novels.

Either way, figure out what you want your message to be long before you put pen to paper, and then use time travel, like any other creative trope, as a means to an end to answer it.  Your story will thank you for it.

(I hope this helps!)

I’m Not His, I’m Yours // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Prompt: Just prepare your eyes for some very dirty filth.

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealous!Dylan, Dominant!Dylan, Daddy!Dylan, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Oral (female on male), Spanking, Daddy Kink, and Swearing.

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Word Count: 4,951

Song: Hands To Myself by Selena Gomez

A/N: THIS IS THE RESULT OF ME AND @failingmemequeen GOING ABSOLUTELY INSANE FOR DADDY DYLAN O’BRIEN. SHE CAME UP WITH THIS IDEA AND TOTALLY ENCOURAGED ME TO WRITE IT SO THANK HER FOR BEING THE BEAUTIFUL PERSON THAT SHE IS. I LOVE YOU MADI DADDY AND ABSOLUTELY ENJOYED PUTTING OUR CONJOINED FANTASIES INTO ONE.

Your name: submit What is this?

Originally posted by spidermanm

“I’m gonna kill them.” Dylan complained over the phone and I laughed at his impatience.

“No, you’re not, baby.” I chuckled, coaxing him the best I could. “It’s just one more day ‘till the weekend. You can survive this, I know it.”

“I swear to God, if either one of them annoys me one more time-”

“Then, I’ll destroy them myself.” I answered and Dylan let out a deep breath.

“I have to go, but I don’t want to hang up on you.” My boyfriend groaned over the line. “Can we just stay on the phone for the rest of the day?”

“No, Dylan.” I laughed and I could tell the sound alone made him feel a little more at ease. “We have to be responsible here. But, tell you what, when it’s time for your next break we can Skype call. What do you think?”

“I think that you’re the best girlfriend a guy could ask for and I love you very much.” Dylan swooned and I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“I love you, too.” I responded, smiling as well. “Now go, I don’t want you getting fired.”

“They can’t fire me, it’s the last season!” Dylan laughed wholeheartedly and I laughed along with him.

That’s what our relationship mostly consisted of: smiling, laughing, fun, and heart eyes. Even though Dylan has been beyond stressed lately because of everything that’s happened in the course of the past two years, we never fail to make each other happy. Things have been very intense for him ever since the accident that shall not be mentioned. Shooting The Death Cure had to be pushed back to this year, Dylan had to stay home for six months and try to avoid paparazzi harassment at all times, he needed to physically train for American Assassin and completely go against his doctor’s recommendations, deal with crazy fans that literally sent him death threats when they found out he wouldn’t be in all of season 6B for Teen Wolf, and even manage to audition for future projects to top it all off. Stress has been very imminent in Dylan’s life and I always felt like it was my job to make him feel better.

Which is why, being the amazing girlfriend I am, I wasn’t going to just Skype call him. I was going to personally go over to his work and give him a fun little surprise.

With excitement running through my veins, I jumped up from my position on our bed together and immediately ran to the bathroom for a shower. Dylan’s next break should be in about an hour, considering he doesn’t have a lot of scenes to shoot this year, so I knew I had to get ready quick.

Once I was out of the shower, I put on Dylan’s favorite red lingerie and took a good look in the mirror. The way the strong red color contradicted with my skin tone will definitely drive him crazy and I can already feel myself getting wet at the thought alone. I didn’t even bother putting on any pants because I knew I wouldn’t really need them and, instead, I picked up the t-shirt Dylan used to sleep from our messy med and slipped it on. Bringing the fabric up to my nose, I took a deep breath and glady breathed in his incredible smell. Sure, I see him everyday but I can’t help feeling addictive and always needed more of him.

Putting on makeup right now just to see Dylan would be useless considering he was going to smudge it up anyway. Therefore, with a smile om my face and exhilaration running through my veins, I put on my black stillettos and grabbed my car keys to head for the Teen Wolf lot. It didn’t take too long to get there and, in a matter of fifteen minutes, I was already greeting Phil the security guard as he let me pass the barrier and enter the studio.

The first thing I did was park my car in an area Dylan would never spot and, then, gladly entered his trailer. Since Dylan hasn’t been in the greatest mood lately, I knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to stick around on set in between scenes like he usually does. From what he told me on the phone, Cody and Sprayberry have been driving him crazy all week and he’s definitely going to want as much distance as possible. Which is where I come in and make him feel all kinds of good before returning to work for the rest of the day.

Having patiently waited for Dylan, laid on his pull-out bed, I immediately jumped up and fixed myself to look sexier the moment the door to his trailer flew open. The look of surprise and immediate lust in Dylan’s eyes when he entered, instantly, made desire crash down on my body. I already knew that I would be putty in his hands in a matter of seconds. Without even saying anything, Dylan just slowly closed the door behind him and took off his sneakers as he licked his lips in anticipation.

“Do you have any idea how good you look just wearing my shirt on?” Dylan questioned, his eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Do you have any idea how much better I’ll look once you take it off?” I teased, smirking up at him.

My words definitely sparked something in him because Dylan instantly jumped on me, the intense sexual tension in the air an incredible influence on him. I giggled at his excitement and his lips were quickly on mine as my fingers instinctively ran through his hair. I smiled when Dylan’s tongue slid across my bottom lip, already asking for an entrance, and I didn’t think twice before opening my mouth for him. He allowed me to call the shots and would moan everytime I played with his tongue skillfully.

When we both needed to breathe again, Dylan detached his lips from mine and gently caressed my cheeks with his soft hands. His eyes gazed into mine with such emotion and care that a blush immediately made its way on my skin. Dylan never failed to make me feel special and I adored how intimate our relationship was. I always thought that intimacy was about allowing someone to touch you, but it’s so much more. Intimacy is someone who touches you beyond just the physical contact because they find a way to your soul. Intimacy is who you text at four in the morning to share your biggest fears and dreams. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.

“I love you.” Dylan whispered before pulling off his shirt I was wearing and placing a gentle kiss on my mouth.

The moment he realized I had put on his favorite lingerie set, Dylan couldn’t hold back the immediate moan that fell from his pink lips. His eyes raked my entire body and I felt his cock slightly twitch against my thigh, through his red crimson pants he wore for Stiles’ character. Standing up from the the pull-out bed, Dylan began unbuckling his belt.

Suddenly, the door to his trailer immediately flew open and the both of us froze in absolute shock. I didn’t even have the thought in me to cover myself up with something, anything, before the intruders invaded Dylan’s safe space.

“Hey, Dyl, are you trying to hide from us?” Sprayberry immediately hollered when he and Cody were inside, both instantly stopping in their tracks once they noticed their co-worker wasn’t alone. “Oh, my God!”

“What the hell are you guys doing here?!” Dylan shouted angrily, the veins on his neck bulging against his skin.

Well, looks like someone’s stress is officially back.

“W-We, uh, W-We,” Sprayberry stuttered trying to answer, but was too astonished to form an actual sentence.

Much like Dylan did just moments ago, Cody’s eyes raked my entire body and, by the way he was biting down on his bottom lip, he definitely seemed to like what he saw. Before I could even do anything, Dylan jumped back on the bed and instinctively covered my body with his. Embarrassment and uncomfort took over my emotions as my boyfriend protected me, shielding my body from unwelcome eyes.

“Get! Out!” Dylan yelled, his Alpha male side appearing now that someone glanced at his female without his permission. “NOW!”

Sprayberry was the first to immediately sprint into action, forcefully pulling Cody out the door with him and literally having to tear his gaze off of my body. I let out a nervous breath I didn’t even know I was holding in the second the door sounded shut and the two actors were finally out of the trailer.

“Damn, it’s a good thing I wasn’t naked yet, right?” I chuckled nervously, trying to make the best out of this situation. However, it was no use. Dylan was furious and no longer in the light-hearted mood like before.

“He was totally eye-fucking you and that’s what concerns you the most?” Dylan scolded and even though he was angry, my entire body filled with desire.

Dylan’s usually very sweet, but every now and then he goes completely dominant and it’s the sexiest fucking thing ever. The way he pulls my hair as he forcefully pounds into me or roughly spanks me just because I went against one of his many commands always had me on the edge.

“You’re right.” I smiled innocently, looking up at him as he noticed the tension change in the room. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The flicker in his eyes immediately went from rage to complete and utter lust the second I let the kinky title he loves so damn much come out of my mouth. The warm and golden-brown color once in his eyes was replaced with a dark black, his pupils now dilated to the maximum. Dylan’s bulge pressed against his pants and  I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, knowing exactly what stood beneath the fabric. Although he wasn’t the only one turned on beyond comprehension as arousal pooled uncomfortably in my panties and I desperately wanted them off of me.

Reaching my hand down to my panties to get rid of it, Dylan’s hand suddenly gripped my wrist and stopped me from moving any further.

“Did I say you could do anything yet?” Dylan questioned.

I gulped and slowly shook my head, his eyes focusing on my lip when I bit down on it. He let go of me without another word, but it didn’t even feel like he did because of his addictive touch still lingering on my skin. Dylan stood up and walked over to the door, locking it as he licked his lips with his eyes trailing over my body.

“Take off your bra.” He commanded, walking back over but not sitting down.

“What?” I asked as I watched him take off his shirt, the sight of his impressive form stunning me.

“Ah, ah, ah, babygirl. You know the rules.” Dylan tsked, shaking his head as he unbuckled his belt like before and opened his pants. “Only speak when I give you the permission to.”

Heat rushed throughout my entire body until it landed with full force in my core. Dylan and I had this little game whenever he was dominant and it was one of my favorite fucking things. The game was simple, but absolutely drove me crazy: Dylan would give me three chances and if I strike out every single one of them, he had no other choice than to punish me.

“Strike one.” Dylan stated, a smirk playing on my lips with what he said next. “And I know you just heard what I demanded.”

At the same time that I reached behind my own back to unclasp my bra, Dylan dropped his pants. His erection pressed hard against his boxers, the gray fabric slightly wet from his arousal. When both of us finished taking off our pieces of clothing, Dylan’s eyes were already glued onto my now exposed perky breasts.

“Now your panties.”

My boyfriend and I pulled both of our underwear off our bodies, watching the other intently. As soon as we were free of clothing and completely exposed to each other, Dylan grabbed himself in his hand and stroked his shaft slowly. The sight of Dylan pumping himself as his eyes gazed on my body turned me on in ways that I can’t even explain.

“Touch yourself, babygirl.” He commanded, my mind melting at his husky voice.

Following his orders, I sat up straight on the bed and spread apart by legs for him to have a full view which made him moan in response. I brought my hand down to my already soaking core and gently slid my finger through my folds, separating them. Slowly rubbing small circles against my clitoris, I couldn’t help but let out a moan. I watched as Dylan used his thumb to caress his tip and I desperately wanted it in my mouth, but I knew that I had to follow his order or else I’d be punished. However, being punished by him does sound very inviting.

Using my other hand to pinch my nipples and tease not only myself but also Dylan, I noticed his grip tighten around his member. Dylan let out an unsatisfied groan when I took my hand away from my breast, but then immediately moaned when I used it to push a finger inside my heat. My back instantly arched and I let out a whimper at the feeling, provoking him to pick up his pace around himself.

“You look so beautiful pleasuring yourself, princess.” Dylan grunted as I moved faster along with him.

Of course I knew how to work myself and make my body feel good, but there’s no denying that Dylan is so much better at it. The way his long and skillfull fingers knowingly curl up inside of me in such a perfect way that not even I knew how to do or the way his sinful tongue flicks expertly against my nub has me wishing that he would just jump on top of me already. But, if there’s one thing Dylan O'Brien certainly loves being is a fucking tease.

“Fuck, baby. Even though this feels good, nothing compares to your beautiful lips and warm mouth wrapped around my cock.” He moaned as my body craved for his touch. “Stop what your doing and come kneel in front of me.”

An exciting idea roared to life in me when I decided to ignore Dylan’s command and willingly get my next strike. I tuned out whatever he had to say and focused on the incredible feeling of my finger pumping inside of me purely to spite him. Which definitely worked because in a matter of seconds I could hear Dylan growling and approaching me. I, suddenly, felt his hands rip mine away from my body and forcefully pull me into him, our naked bodies against each other as we stood.

“Strike two.” He warned through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching and looking sexy as ever.

Before I even knew it, Dylan pushed me down to kneel in front of him and harshly grabbed onto my hair with his hands. Bringing my own hands up, I held onto his thigh with one hand and wrapped around his base with the other. I smirked at Dylan as I licked my lips and gawked at the delicious sight in front of me. I gladly took Dylan’s tip inside of my mouth and he immediately moaned when I did. The first thing my tongue came into contact with was his precum and I can’t deny that I love the salty taste. As I gently sucked his head, my hand began to slowly pump his dick.

One of the many things I love about Dylan is that he’s very responsive and isn’t ashamed in letting me know exactly what he liked. Which is why I already knew that one of his favorite things I do when I give him a blowjob is lick his prominent vein on the underside of his cock at the same time that I very lightly and very carefully graze my teeth against his topside. Dylan let out a throaty groan the second I did exactly that and it seemed to light a fire in him because he immediately took control.

My boyfriend pushed himself fully into my mouth until he was hitting the back of my throat and I was gagging around him, only for him to pull away and do the exact same thing again. Dylan was happily fucking my mouth and, to be honest, I didn’t even mind it. The lust was so far deep in my blood that all I could focus on was how sexy he looked as he practically used me as a fuck toy and how damn good he tasted.

I hollowed my mouth around him to create a much tighter environment for him and the filthy sounds of his shameless moans erupting from his chest made my core ache more than it already had. Due to the fast pace and my wet mouth, it didn’t take long for Dylan to reach his much needed release. I hummed when he unloaded and his hot cum shot straight down my throat, his hips bucking in response.

Once Dylan came down from his high, I pulled him out of my mouth and he shuddered at the contact due to how sensitive he’d become. Wiping away the spit on my mouth and any cum spilling down my chin, I stood up with a smirk on my lips and Dylan immediately kissed me. His dominance faltering for the slightest second so he could show me how much he cared for me through the gentle action. However, the moment we parted, dominant Dylan was back.

“Can you sit on the chair for me, babygirl?” He pointed to the chair under his desk he uses to study his lines as he headed over to the small closet.

“Yes, Daddy.” I obeyed because both of us knew that even though he asked, it wasn’t actually a question.

My eyes widened immediately when I noticed just what he grabbed from the closet and Dylan approached me with an intense grin on his lips. I wanted to desperately ask him why the hell he had that in his trailer or what he thinks he’s about to do to me with it, but I knew that that wouldn’t be the greatest idea.

“It’s not mine.” Dylan defended himself when he obviously saw my shocked facial expression at the metal handcuffs in his hands. “It’s Stiles’, but I don’t see why we can’t have our own little fun with it. What do you think?”

“Well, I know for a fact Stiles and Lydia have a lot of kinky sex with handcuffs.” I smirked, reaching my arms behind the back of the chair for him to lock them there. “So, I say we should also give it a shot, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” Dylan smiled, placing the cold metal around my wrists to lock them behind me.

The next thing my boyfriend did was push my legs apart so I was completely opened for him in a way that felt so dirty and exposing but I loved nonetheless. Dylan’s lips instantly wrapped around one of my breasts, already biting down on my nipple, and I whimpered when I couldn’t grip his hair with my fingers. As he teasingly worked on my breast, Dylan brought a hand up to my core and my hips instinctively bucked the second his middle finger rubbed against my sensitive nub. He started slow at first but as soon as he knew I was ready for more, Dylan picked up his middle finger’s pace and, using his other hand, he slid one of his long fingers inside of me.

I couldn’t hold back my moan at the incredible feeling, considering my body had been craving it for the longest time now, and the first finger was immediately followed by a second. I absolutely loved how much Dylan understood my body and exactly what it needed which is why I was already getting close to my release in a matter of minutes. His skillful fingers curled inside of me and pumped with such fervor that I didn’t have any ounce of self control in me anymore. I knew I was about to reach my edge and, much to my dismay, so did Dylan.

“Not yet, princess.” He teased and I whined when he removed his fingers from my soaking wet heat. “You only get to cum when I say so. And I want it to happen around my cock.”

After seeing me completely opened for him and a moaning mess just because of his fingers, Dylan’s erection was already back up and ready for more action. Precum glistened on his tip and even though I did give him head only a few moments ago, I already wanted to do it all over again. What can I say? The man has a delicious dick.

Dylan was pumping himself a little bit as he watched my chest rise and fall from my rapid breathing before grabbing my feet and hitching them up on the chair. He pulled my waist towards the edge of the seat, making me lay down since I still was locked to the back of the chair, and Dylan positioned himself in front of my entrance. Without even giving me a warning, he instantly slammed inside of me and my entire body arched at the invasive act. He waited a few seconds for me to adjust and when I sort of did, Dylan began roughly thrusting into me.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re always so tight.” Dylan moaned, his face snuggled into my slightly sweaty neck.

The pleasurable feeling of his thick width stretching my tight walls as he pounded in me, quite deeply considering how the position we were in favored his ability to be completely buried inside of me, sparked the orgasm I was so close to reach that Dylan denied up to the surface again. I clenched around him once and he growled against my skin, my entire body vibrating with the sound.

“Don’t cum yet.” He demanded and I whimpered.

Even though I tried to hold it back, I clenched around him once more and this time Dylan immediately brought his face up to glare at me. We were so close that I could feel his breath brushing across my skin and, yet, all I could focus on was the bound knot in my stomach ready to break free any minute now. The thought of going against Dylan’s commands was both terrifying and exciting and, to be honest, I didn’t know which one attracted me more.

“Don’t you dare.” Dylan threatened, bringing one of his hands up to forcefully pull my hair and make me look him straight in the eyes. “I’m serious. Promise Daddy you won’t cum until I allow it.”

“I-I promise, Daddy.” I managed to say through moans. However the second his cock twitched inside of me when I said his favorite nickname, I was long gone and there was no way going back.

My entire body shook, my toes curled against the chair and uncontrollable shouts erupted from my chest as one of the greatest orgasms I’ve ever experienced bolted through my veins. I could feel my core clenching around Dylan’s shaft at the same time that it released all of my pent-up arousal and gushed onto him. I screamed so loudly that I was certain everyone on the Teen Wolf lot heard me and I was also sure that despite not following his orders, Dylan was loving the way I was a mess. Everyone including Sprayberry and Cody knew that the person who just made this young woman scream so much in pleasure was Dylan and that it didn’t even matter how badly they might have wanted her, she was his.

My own release triggered Dylan’s and as I was coming down from my intense high, my boyfriend was reaching his. Dylan’s cock twitched before cumming for the second time today and shooting his liquid inside of me, the incredible feeling of his hot cum running against my walls making me moan. The sound of Dylan’s own moans echoed through the trailer and I watched in awe as his face contorted in pure pleasure. He held onto the edges of the chair tightly, his muscles straining against his arms as he shook.

“Strike three.” Dylan managed to say through his husky and breathless voice once he came down from his high.

The sweet taste of adrenaline rushed though all of my veins and my heartbeat pounded so hard it pulsed inside of my ears the second Dylan said those two simple words. A mixture of concern and lust flooded inside of me and I didn’t quite know which one was stronger.

Dylan slowly slid out of my body, his eyes staring into mine the entire time, and I winced at how sensitive I’ve become. Going back over to the closet, Dylan pulled out a small key and walked over to me again. He hovered over my body, his incredible smell filling my nose, and unlocked the metal cuffs on my hands. They immediately dropped to the floor with a clang and Dylan didn’t even seem to care. Putting the key down on his desk, Dylan stood up straight in front of me.

“Let me ask you a question, princess.” He husked. “Do you think you’re a good girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I answered, bringing my hands over to settle on my lap. “I do.”

“Hmm, well, I happen to think you’re very very naughty.” Dylan murmured. “And do you know what happens to naughty girls, baby? They get spanked.”

Before I could even put together what was about to happen, Dylan harshly grabbed me and made me stand. My boyfriend pushed me down onto the desk, my ass sticking out for him, and he stuck his leg between mine to keep them apart. He slowly began to caress one of my cheeks with the palm of his hand and goosebumps covered my entire body.

“How many should I give you, babygirl?” Dylan teased. “Does ten sound good?”

“N-No, that’s too much.” I stuttered.

“Okay, then, ten it is.” He chuckled darkly and I mentally prepared myself for what was about to come. “Count for me, princess.”

Suddenly, Dylan lifted his hand and roughly slammed it back down on my ass cheek. The intense pain immediately making my hips bucker in response. The ache and pleasure shooting through me and landed straight in the bottom of my stomach, sparking the creation of a familiar knot.

“O-One.” I whimpered and, as soon as I finished speaking, Dylan spanked my same cheek again. “T-Two.”

He repeatedly smacked my right cheek five times in a row, my skin aching intensely with every hit. Everytime he would slap me, the knot inside of my stomach would become tighter and tighter. I knew that by the time he finished spanking me all ten times, that knot would break and I would be orgasming for the second time in this trailer. I was already a shaking, moaning and whimpering mess in his hands and, as embarrassing as it was to be so vulnerable to someone, I couldn’t care less.

Dylan rubbed my right cheek for a few seconds to ease the stinging pain on my skin before moving to my left and striking my ass again without any warning. My knees were wobbling and weak and if it wasn’t for his leg holding me up, I would’ve definitely fallen down my now.

“S-Six.” I mewled, my voice only able to come out as a whisper whilst he continued his punishment on me. “Seven, Eight, Nine.”

By the tenth strike, the extremely tight knot had snapped and spread an insane amount of pleasure inside of me. My vision blurred and went white as my orgasm dissolved in my blood and bones. My body jerked against the desk, my skin digging into the wood, and arousal immediately spilled out of me and ran down Dylan’s thigh. It didn’t matter that my ass was burning in excruciating agony, the pleasure was so much more powerful.

Dylan held onto my hips as I finished reaching my edge and came back down to Earth. His fingers creating tender circles on my skin.

“You okay, baby?” He asked me and I managed to bring myself back up, with his assistance of course.

“Yes, Dylan, I am.” I turned around with a smile on my face, wrapping my arms around his neck for stability.

“I wasn’t too harsh, was I?”

“No, you were perfect.” I shook my head happily, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Good.” Dylan smiled, his eyes no longer dark and now back to its gentle color. “It’s just, the way Cody looked at you drove me insane and-”

“I know, baby.” I interrupted him before he could finish, caressing the back of his neck with my fingers. “But, I’m not his, I’m yours.”

Dylan smiled at me with everything he had in him and I swooned at how beautiful he was. However, not just in the way he looked or in the way that he always manages to say things that makes me fall in love with him more and more everyday. But, just in the pure way that he is.

More KatsuDeku Thoughts/Ramblings

The other day I was seeing a lot of people complaining about hate in both the ‘Katsudeku’ and ‘Bakudeku’ tags, but to be honest, I didn’t see it. I suppose I must have the right people blocked.

But, it did get me thinking about things that people love to bring up when discussing the “p r o b l e m a t i c” elements of this ship. Two big ones in particular come to mind.

One has already been discussed to death, and I hope to jeezus I never have to talk about it myself. Yes, Bakugo told Deku to jump off a building. It’s horrible and despicable and I would never defend such awful behavior. It was simple shorthand for Horikoshi to establish Bakugo as an unremorseful jerk. Congrats, dude. It worked.

The second thing, however, is something I could talk about at length.

So I will.

Let’s talk about THIS.

Warning: this is a goddamn long post. Pour yourself a drink.

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In Defense of the Misunderstood Hero, Mori Ougai

I’m sure many would raise eyebrows when they read the title because, Mori? A hero?

Many people portrayed Mori as a sadistic devil, but in no canon situation has Mori ever shown any sadistic tendency (like Dazai has). In fact, I’d say he’s the reverse of that. He took care of Elise very well, despite/even though she’s his own ability. He never once has hurt people for the sake of hurting people.

In fact whenever he didn’t have any business to take care of, his true personality shone through and it was not of a cold, heartless man with no conscience. Rather it was one full of dorkiness and gentle patience. Here, he even contacted Ango (who was sweating bullet because holy shit he’s being called by the fucking boss of Port Mafia) just to ask what color of dress will fit Elise more.

(For the love of anything holy I’ve scoured Ango and Oda’s tag in tumblr yet I can’t find it. It’s the extra DVD comic featuring Buraiha trio drinking and talking shit about Mori. In exchange, have these dorky dad and son interacting;

First thing first, I will give you what I think is the most important fact about Mori. Look at his line in this scene

Now this is his true nature; his main motivation for doing everything he did. The good of the organization.

At no point has Mori’s action ever benefit only himself. At every instance he appeared in the story, he’s doing something for the Mafia and for Yokohama. The only self-centered thing he has ever done was asking Elise to wear what he wanted her to wear and that’s moot point anyway since she’s his Ability and presumably modeled after his ‘ideal’ little girl.

In this scene, he saved four members of ADA and even gave Atsushi an important lesson. Why would he do such a thing when he could literally immobilize Anne and Lucy by bloodlust alone? He could have let her take Tanizaki and Atsushi, then pressure her to let him out with his memory intact. Not to mention that his Ability, Elise, was waiting just outside, standing by ready to break him out any time.

If he does this, not only he will go free with the memory of the attack and thus the secret of Anne’s Room, he would also take care of not one but three ADA agents. Rather, he chose to save all of them plus every single person Anne has swallowed in the Dark Room.

Now here;

This is the scene where he took over as boss. The fact that the Old Boss was bedridden and hallucinating while seemingly so thin, also from the way he was narrated by Hirostu in episode 21, implicate that his condition was something he contracted at a long period of time rather than it being something sudden.

Notice the circumstance in which he did it. Mori only killed the boss after he issued the order that would bring destruction not only to the Mafia but also to the city and nation at large, killing many people whether criminal or innocent. He didn’t do it before even though he could have.

By becoming the biggest bad of the bad, he resolved himself to take care of the light from the shadows. And this is important because if he hadn’t stepped in at that time either the Old Boss would have burnt Yokohama down or another heinous criminal would have taken over and brings the nation down with them.

He is protecting Yokohama by not letting people worse than him to take control of its biggest criminal organization. Notice what Kouyou think about him;

She supported him because of this too. She knew what it felt like to under one of those leaders that cared only for money and power like the Old Boss. Kouyou will not support people if all they brought with them was suffering and death the way she was forced to feel when her dearest was taken away from her. Under Mori’s reign, our queen Kouyou pledge her loyalty not to him but the kinder way he brought.

It can also be seen in this scene.

Mori could have taken effort to keep Kouyou there, but his tone and body language are open. He knew that Kouyou can go anytime and he’s not fighting to keep her there; Kouyou decided to stay on her own free will and he is appreciative of knowing he had a single ally he can absolutely trust on who also knew of his true motivation.

In this scene

It was made clear that he respect the Old Boss, so much that the death of a hundred subordinate made him embarrassed.  He’s not upset that he lost some underlings, he’s upset that he lost them without a good reason to justify their death. A miscalculation has taken a hundred of his soldiers.

And you might think his reaction to this is rather cold, but remember that all of them were members of the mafia. All of them are criminals who would be executed if they fall into the hands of the police and they also knew what they’re getting into when they joined the Organization.

You can probably say what he did to Odasaku was horrible, sure. But it was expected for the boss of the Mafia to do so. (further reading for this topic)

But you have to admit it was a stroke of utter genius. With the gifted Business Permit and no longer fearing the government, Mori would be freer to take down opposing criminal organization that might bother the peace. Rather, he focused the Mafia to expanding its power and outwardly he did so, like this there will be very little chance for either a rebellion or an enemy organization attacking them in their HQ. This would also mean less threat to Yokohama.

Fukuzawa’s remark in this was absolutely true. Not only between the two organization but also for him and Mori specifically. Mori loved Yokohama, enough to dip into the darkest of dark to protect it. And Fukuzawa knew it too because look at his line here

In this, it can be said that he didn’t want a war to break in Yokohama that might disturb its peace. But then why say ‘balance’?

This is because Fukuzawa knew the extent of his subordinate’s strength also that they will be able to kill Mori if they go all out. This is what he feared the most. While if he died, the Agency can be well-taken care of in Kunikida’s hand, once Mori’s dead there’s no one to reign in the Port Mafia and keep it from wreaking havoc, thus destroying the balance of Yokohama city into what it was before; the Dragon Head Rush. (you might want to read the novel of dark era to really grasp the situation. But basically it was a gang war that led to many victims including the families of Odasaku’s orphans)

More than that, the people who might succeed Mori would not be as kind as him. They might do what the Old Boss did and try to burn Yokohama down.

And this, I think, is also the main reason why Mori sent Dazai away from the Mafia. It is, of course, easy to assume what Dazai remarked about Mori’s intention in chapter 30/episode 21 to be the truth; that he did it to remove a threat to his position.

But is this the whole story?

The fact that he kept Dazai’s spot empty rather than choosing someone else to fill it was a paradox if you were to look at him from the angle of a man hungry for power. He has anticipated Dazai’s return, was so sure of it in fact that he sacrificed monetary and workload gains of having another Executive. If he wanted Dazai back in the first place, then why drive him out of the Mafia and into the ADA?

For now, imagine what would have happened if Dazai took over as the Boss if he’s still the same man he was before Oda’s death. Cruel, ruthless and uncaring for people’s life as he was, he would have gone into the same track as the Old Boss and destroys Yokohama as his mental health eroded. Not even Odasaku would be able to save him from himself at this point.

This is also why he asked Dazai back to the Mafia after taking such extreme methods to drive him out. Of course there are another reason, that is he needed his right hand back to drive out the Guild as he remarked.

But the main reason why he asked back after all this time was because there are people in ADA who have taught him about having something worth loving and worth protecting.

Mori felt that Dazai has learnt enough about the light and why it is something worth protecting. With it, when Dazai inevitably take his seat as the Boss of Port Mafia, Dazai would be able to follow his legacy as the Darth Vader of Bungou Stray Dogs and The Dark Knight of Yokohama. This is Mori’s special way of grooming Dazai to become his successor.

All this was so Dazai can be his successor and not the Old Boss’.

Conclusion for those who are too lazy to read 2000+ words of Mori being awesome: no, Mori is not an evil incarnate born to manipulate everyone to his own amusement.

If anything, he’s the greatest hero of the story. The same way the ADA is protecting the city and Japan from the light, Mori is protecting it from the shadows. With the balance that has been made between him and Fukuzawa, it is imperative that he keep doing what he did, or the balance will fall and Yokohama condemned into a lake of fire.

Asagiri Kafka is truly an exceptional writer. They made Mori into this all-bad boss of the Mafia while slipping in his real face every so often. Here is the author who made every character complex and with their own motivation. What made you think they’ll make the ‘villain’ as simple as a man existing just to be a villain?

Even Fitzgerald and Fyodor got development and reasoning for doing what they did, but the difference is they’re arc-villain and not whole story-villain like Mori. Their reign will be over with their arc, but Mori’s will live as long as BSD continues, so it’s imperative that they got their development and exposition early on so the readers can sympathize with them.

Thus I concluded my exposition of the anti-hero that has been protecting Yokohama all this time not by bathing in sunlight but by submerging himself in blood yet capable of keeping his head out of it depth; Mori Ougai.

I Can't Take It!

            “I can’t bloody take it anymore!” Were the words screamed in Draco’s face as he opened the door. He blinked rapidly at the fuming redhead in front of him. Weasley. That was someone he hadn’t seen in years, not since the final battle.

            “Excuse you?” Draco reprimanded with an arched brow. He honestly had no idea what was happening here. He must have mixed up his ingredients when making his potion this morning, causing a severe hallucination. Because that was the only explanation his mind could come up with at the moment.

            “At first, I thought I was just delusional, seeing things where there was nothing but I know I’m not.”

            Draco blinked rapidly as he too concluded the man was delusional. Something he had always known to be true.

            “You keep writing books about Harry!”

            Every rational thought left the blonde as dread filled his stomach. There was no way that Weasley had figured it out. His mother was blissfully unaware of who his muse was, his friends were just as clueless, all wondering who could possibly be the one he was desperately pining after. The whole world was blind but yet Weasley had discovered his secret?

            “Don’t give me that look!” Weasley spat hotly. “It’s just so obvious. I don’t understand why no one but me thinks so! I see your stupid books everywhere. Witches giggle in their offices at work, completely engrossed in your horribly sappy novels.” A pause as a freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

            “I can’t go into Diagon Alley without seeing your ugly face plastered from every window, advertising this travesty.”

            Ugly? Draco huffed angrily as he listened somewhat impatiently to the hogwash spewing out of Weasley’s mouth.

            “My own wife reads them and badgers me incessantly about reading them too!”

            That had Draco wincing, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger reading his works. It was a little uncomfortable, if he was being honest.

            “I can’t even go to my parents without seeing your entire collection stacked against the wall. My mother reads them!” A pitiful moan escaped. “My own mum!”

            A trickle of amusement was making its way inside of Draco. Oh, he was still annoyed and ticked off but seeing Weasley in so much distress because of him, was lifting his spirits.

            “I have put up with this for years and I can’t take it anymore!” Weasley took a step forward, which Draco was loath to admit made him want to take a step back. The man was clearly mental.

            “You have to tell Harry how you feel.” Begged the disturbed wanker. “I can’t take another novel. I can’t take the pining! I can’t take the whining! I can’t take another fucking thing! If I have to listen to one more person tell me how ‘wonderfully heartbreaking’ your stories are, I will either murder you, Harry or myself.” A pause. “And I can’t honestly tell you which one of us is at the forefront of that. Perhaps I will kill us all and be done with it.”  

            Threats weren’t something new to Draco but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end of one done so vehemently.

            “I’m an Auror.” Weasley unnecessarily reminded him, as if he hadn’t been aware of this. “I know how to murder someone and make it appear as an accident. They’ll never find your body.” The sheer conviction in the promise was almost staggering.

            Draco rolled his eyes as he looked to the sky, debating about hexing the crazy redhead.

            “Are you finished?” He drawled with an exaggerated yawn, hoping to get rid of Weasley.

            Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what is the worst part of all of this?”

            The question was obviously rhetorical but Draco shook his head anyways, hoping this would be the last thing said on the topic.

            “Harry loves your books.”

            Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he swallowed heavily and looked away from Weasley for the first time.

            “He talks about them constantly, mentions his favorite parts, grins goofily as he reads your novels in public. Every single book is handled with care and patience. He adores them and you by extension.”

            Words had long ago left Draco, he didn’t know what to say at all. Couldn’t think of anything. For someone who made a living off of words and formulating beautiful lines, this was almost embarrassing.

            “I don’t like you.” Weasley continued on. “Never have and might not ever will.”

            Again, Draco rolled his eyes. The feeling was entirely mutual.

            “But.” The man whispered softly. “It’s painfully obvious that you love Harry.” Blue eyes searched his and Draco felt as if his blackened soul was being judged.  

            “The things you write deserve to be said not just written. Harry deserves this, deserves this kind of attention and deserves the love you put into those stupid pages.” There was a slight reddening of Weasley’s cheeks. It was obvious he despised complimenting Draco on his books.

            “Just do something. Please. While I can’t take another one of your books, I really can’t take Harry’s self-deprecating responses as to why it just isn’t possible that he is the target of your obsession.”

            He would have liked to rudely point out that it wasn’t an obsession but he was distracted with the rest of the statement.

            Weasley took a deep sigh. “Just think about it.” As violently as the conversation began, it ended with a soft whisper and pleading eyes.

            Draco watched Weasley walk slowly away from his front door, so slowly that it was obvious he was hoping to be called back.

            This was life changing. He could slam the door and pretend that this whole disaster had been a hallucination and never think about it again… or he could take a Gryffindor plunge into bravery and do what the characters in his books do, which was get their man.

            “Weasley!” Draco called out, making his decision. “Get your horrid arse back here.”

            The way red brows arched, silently asking for more, had Draco huffing. Who knew the man was a sadist too?

           “Help me ensnare a Gryffindor.“

           A frighteningly wicked grin appeared on the redhead’s face, causing Draco to question if he had just sold away his soul to a starving Dementor. Merlin, help him. 


If you are interested in the rest of the story, part two and three are finished. Or if you would like to just skip ahead to the completed story, here you go

Part TwoPart Three   ,  A03 Author Page 

in which jack does not, in fact, go into the NHL

AN: the sequel to this piece. 
TW: Suicidal thoughts, career changes, hard conversations.


When the confetti rained down in the other team’s colors, Jack felt a cold wave of numbness wash over him.

I don’t want to be alive anymore, he thought, chest tightening with shame and fear. I want to die.

A pause. A breath.

Oh.

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EDIT: SO FAR THIS HAS BEEN TURNED OUT TO BE A HOAX. PLEASE SEE OTHER, PERHAPS MORE RELIABLE RUMOR, FROM HERE

REMEMBER ALSO REBOOT VERSUS XIII PETITION

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No One’s Roasted Like Gaston.[Oneshot].

no one writes FANFICS LIKE EMILEE.

Originally posted by luuuuuke-evans

Title: No One’s Roasted Like Gaston.
Pairing: Implied!- Gaston x Reader.
Rating: T.
Words: 2,231.
Summary: Gaston thought he was undeniable to women and even some men. Has he finally found his match?


There was nothing particularly notable about the early mornings, at least, not anymore. The sky above was it usual mixture of pinks, purples and some lighter hues of blue as the sun rose and lit up the clouds, giving them a rather unique looking glow. There was a small wind, but not chilling, and brought in the lingering scent of meadows and trees. You got used to those aspects and they slowly became the norm. You began to not notice them at all, and remarked them as being every day life. If one wanted to really shake things up in a morning routine, they would count the cobblestones that made up each walkway in the village. But, that’s the thing. No one ever wanted to shake things up. They wanted things to stay the same for that is the way they had been living for as long as anyone could remember. With change came the unprecedented fear that something terrible would happen as a result.

It was the hustle and bustle of such a small village did leave one breathless and forgetful on occasion if you didn’t pay attention to where you were going and why you were going there in the first place. If one was aimlessly walking in the morning time while the sun peaked into the valley, one might be trampled by those selling goods and merchandise. Some too expensive, and some not expensive enough and left you wondering whether you had been scammed or if you had gotten a good deal.

Aimless and mindless were surely your vibe this beautiful morning. You had nowhere to be, nothing to do or see and so you actually took your time to walk through the village during one of the busiest times of day. There was a variant of smells, some of which you happened to thoroughly enjoy. Fresh bread, springtime air, a small caddy on the corner before the village square that was selling freshly picked roses. Contrary to the flowers smelling divine, the actual vibrancy of the colors caught your attention and dwindled you to stay and admire them for longer than you had intended . Vivid reds, pastel pinks, yellow whites. It looked as if these flowers belonged immortalized in a painting for the entire world to enjoy.

Smiling at the vendor who was a few feet to your right, you plucked a light, dusty pink rose out of one of the buckets full of water. It dripped down your fingers onto your wrist causing a small shudder to shoot down your arm. Miraculously, it looked as if a skilled painter had dipped their brush in the sky during dusk, mustered up enough color to splotch onto the petals of the flower. Some parts were darker than others, but all around, it was a very delicate and soft appearing flower.

“Beautiful.” You could hear someone behind you say. And without the need to turn around and see the speaker, you were already well aware of who it was. Probably looking at himself in the reflection of a window again, you snickered quietly. It was as if you could see the bright red uniform from your peripheral vision and it was already giving you a headache. Setting the flower back into the metallic bucket, you gave the vendor one more glance over and polite smile before drawing your attention to your left, with the unsuccessful hope of getting out of there without Gaston being connected at your hip.

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She’s Just Not That Into You » Part VI (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two » Part Three » Part Four » Part Five

Check out the inspiration behind Harry’s home here! The amazing @graceak​ made a phenomenal playlist to go along with Harry’s story, and I could not recommend it more. You can find that here!

As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained​. I hope Part VI mends everything Part V managed to break, my love! And, once again, thank you all for your continued support. I am over the moon about the response this story has gotten, as I’m unworthy of all of your love. (That doesn’t mean I won’t take it, though!)

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by chicandproper

“But it’s like…” Harry stops and starts again. “I met with Carly, her replacement, and she’s nice enough. So nice. Lovely girl, really. But every time I talk with her about the plans, I jus…I can’t smile. I can’t get excited about it. ‘m not supposed t’ be talkin’ with Carly about them. She’s not the one who made ‘em. She’s not the one who…well, y’know.”

“If I’m being honest,” Gemma sighs on the other end of the phone, “I would’ve done the same thing, had I been put in that situation.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I would’ve, too. And I wouldn’t’ve been as nice.”

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Thoughts on The Emoji Movie

           It came as no surprise to me, or anyone else, that The Emoji Movie was a disastrous train-wreck of a movie with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. From the moment it was announced, The Emoji Movie was a joke, little more than a punchline of what corporate Hollywood would make just to pander to a younger audience. Yet, by creating the shoddy garbage pile of a “film” (I use this term sparingly) that is The Emoji Movie, Hollywood has done something incredible—they have killed art.

PART ONE

           The “plot” of The Emoji Movie is one that has been presented countless times before: a misfit must leave home to change himself but learns along his adventure that his true value lies in his uniqueness. In this iteration of the “finding yourself” story the hero is Gene, a socially-outcast “meh” emoji who is terrible at what he does—he has all sorts of “non-meh” feelings that he simply can’t contain. On his first day of work, he is called upon from his emoji station to be used, but he freaks out at the last minute and causes a glitch in the sending of the emoji, leading to Alex (the phone’s user) embarrassing himself in front of the girl he likes. Because of this, the smiling emoji, Smiler, who is the “big status quo boss lady” decides to kill him. Gene, however, runs away from the antivirus software and hides in the “loser emoji” section of Textopolis (the city where all the emojis live together). There he meets Hi-5, who was once a famous and well-liked emoji who got to stay in the “favorites” section of Alex’s phone, but hasn’t been used in weeks and now seeks to regain his lost fame.

           In order to reprogram Gene’s malfunction and get Hi-5 back into the favorites section, the pair leave Textopolis and go to a piracy app that Alex, a fifteen-year-old boy, has on his phone for some reason. Gene’s parents then leave after him to try and find him and Smiler sends her antivirus robot soldiers outside Textopolis to apprehend Gene. Meanwhile, in a story beat stolen straight from Wreck-It Ralph and The Lego Movie, they meet Jailbreak, a hacker emoji who serves as the purple-haired punk love interest for the movie. Jailbreak refuses to help them at first, but when she sees Gene’s ability to express multiple faces, she agrees to work together to get to “the source code” in “the cloud.” Then, the antivirus robots appear in the piracy app, (despite the fact that they were given orders to follow Gene’s parents, who are nowhere in sight) and the hero trio escape through a tunnel to Candy Crush where Gene gets trapped and they have to play the game to help him escape. This scene has absolutely no bearing on the rest of the film and is only an overblown advertisement for a phone app, which one will likely notice as a reoccurring theme in this movie.

           After escaping Candy Crush, they take a tunnel to Dance Now (available now in the app store) and they have to play the game because Hi-5 pushed a button for some reason. Here they reveal that Jailbreak can’t dance, and the dramatic stakes are heightened, except they aren’t because Gene teaches her how and then they do the “Emoji Bop” together in what I assume is supposed to be a display of self-love. But oh no! The antivirus robots show up again somehow, so our trio has to escape fast, or risk being deleted. Then, because his phone is playing Dance Now music during class, Alex deletes the app, and Hi-5 fails to escape, sending him to “the trash.”

           Naturally, because of the friendship that the three characters have cultivated together after knowing each other for two hours, Jailbreak and Gene decide to use Spotify to travel to the trash and rescue their companion. Meanwhile, Gene’s “meh” parents have had a falling out because each one blames the other for their son malfunctioning. It’s ok though, because they meet in an Instagram photo and Gene’s dad reveals that he malfunctions too, so naturally they make it all up it each other Alex also decides to delete his entire phone because it sent the wrong emoji one time and made noises on its own. Gene and Jailbreak then save Hi-5 from the trash and they’re chased by a bigger, badder antivirus that follows them until they get to Dropbox, where it can’t get them for some reason.

           They then have to upload themselves to the cloud, and each character uses their own talents to get past the firewall. At this point the movie realizes it makes no sense and in a series of nonsensical rapid-fire events proceed as follows: Gene professes his love to Jailbreak, who it turns out is actually a princess emoji, Jailbreak denies him because of a throwaway line earlier in the movie about her being an empowered woman, the antivirus appears somehow and takes Gene back to Textopolis so he can die in front of the other emojis, Jailbreak and Hi-5 fly back on the Twitter bird to rescue him, Alex begins to delete his phone but chooses not to when Gene sends himself to Addie and she responds with “that was a cool emoji” (verbatim), Smiler is crushed by a giant robot, the emojis have a dance party, and everyone lives happily ever after.

           Watching the shoddy piece of work The Emoji Movie calls a story, I felt my head spinning with questions—not just regarding the plot holes and contrivances, but to the world itself. How do emojis reproduce? If emojis age in years, as is stated in the movie, how could any emoji be older than the amount of time Alex has had his phone? What if an emoji isn’t at the station when it is called upon? How does time flow in the phone as opposed to outside of it? Are all the emojis that marry the same emojis incestuous? Why do some emojis have names like “Gene” while others are simply called by their appearances, like Hi-5? Why is the Christmas tree shown in public in the first scene but then shown in the loser lounge two scenes later? How do the emojis know the history of their app? Why do actions in some apps affect Alex’s phone while actions in other apps do not? How to the antiviruses find Gene and his crew over and over again? Why didn’t Smiler send any antiviruses after Jailbreak when she first left Textopolis? Why does Alex try to delete his phone after sending one incorrect emoji and having it make noise in class twice? How does the illegal antivirus get into Dropbox? How did Smiler get the illegal antivirus? Why did Smiler feel the need to kill Gene in front of the other emoji? Why did Smiler feel a need to kill Gene in the first place? Why does the girl on the Dance Now app ignore jailbreak messing up after the second time? How do all the emojis come back from deletion? If the trash is emptied out daily why is an email from weeks ago still in there? And, most importantly, why did I choose to watch this movie. The Emoji Movie does not answer these question, because it doesn’t care.

           The Emoji Movie doesn’t care about its story, its congruity, or the specifics of its world, because none of it matters. The story beats, directly stolen from other, better, movies, are still in place, and none of the specifics beyond set up for this formulaic and unoriginal wholesale feel-good message have any relevance to the story. The pink-haired rogue stolen straight from The Lego Movie has no personality beyond what the plot demands, and the same can be said for almost any of the other characters. Gene, or, discount Wreck-It Ralph, has the defining personality trait of “feeling things” and his story arc leads to him “feeling more things” and Hi-5’s slightly more defined emotional journey leads from him wanting fame to wanting friends. All the other characters in the story are even less one-dimensional, somehow, with personality traits that are all literally written into their very names and appearances.

           But ultimately, these characters are simply set pieces. There is no investment in the world of the emojis, no feeling when the entire phone is deleted. Half the scenes in the movie are just cash cow product placement filler, and it becomes clear when one realizes halfway through the movie that none of the adventures they have seem to matter, even within the context of their own story. When the characters themselves seem to realize that their journey is pointless, it becomes impossible for an audience to care about or interact meaningfully with the film that they’re viewing, and the best that any viewer can conjure is a “meh.”

PART TWO

           The story of The Emoji Movie is a clear cash grab, and rivetingly unengaging in its poor execution, but more lies beneath the surface. The morals that The Emoji Movie tries to impart to its audience are well-intentioned (as any moral is), but also inherently flawed, and violently mangled in every scene where they are introduced. Indeed, the heaping dumpster fire of a film that titles itself The Emoji Movie exists on multiple levels of terribleness, not using poor storytelling techniques, but imparting poor morals through these techniques as well. It often contradicts itself, falling flat on its face and hopelessly bumbling between individualistic self-love and a quite utilitarian doctrine—almost impressive.

           The Emoji Movie has all the markings of a summer Hollywood “live your true self” movie at its beginning. The main character has a specific, boring role that he is expected to serve unquestioningly, and is made a pariah for breaking from this role. His sidekick also rebels against the system in his own right, trying to cheat his way back into a position of power. By focusing on these two, the story accentuates the flaws with the emoji system and how it emotionally damages those who are forced to suffer under it. Even the villain, Smiler, is affected in her own right—he constant need to maintain happiness seems to have driven her to a place of near insanity. In the opening monologue (a completely different problem), Gene points this out this flaw to the audience by noting how the laughing and crying emojis can never break their character and the viewers begin to see the thriving city of Textopolis as a flawed dystopia. However, after the first scene, little attention is given to these flaws, instead focusing on Smiler herself as a villain. The plight of the “loser emojis” (emojis that don’t ever get used) is also fantastically mishandled. They are only seen twice in the movie and the second time is in a post credit scene where they remain in their basement, unaffected by the event of the entire movie. After sitting through an entire movie with the message that we should be ourselves instead of acting how society tells us to, we see that by nature, some people will (or must) always be excluded from the metaphorical “emoji dance party” for being themselves. The “self” that The Emoji Movie pushes is not just a best self, but also a “most useful” self.

           This is expanded upon in Gene’s journey, where he goes from being a hyperactive “meh” emoji to (briefly) being a good “meh” emoji to finally learning to use his true power as a multi-faceted expression emoji. In the stages before he discovered his true potential, Gene was outcast by his peers—and any viewer could argue that this was rightfully so. Gene broke the emoji picking device and injured dozens of emojis in the process of his one mistake and possibly endangered the safety of the entire phone. Gene then realizes his mistake and goes off to “fix” himself, only to come back stronger and more useful than ever. As is the case in many stories, Gene is accepted only after his usefulness becomes apparent, and the villain is revealed as a bloodthirsty authoritarian rather than the level-headed leader the denizens of Textopolis cited her as being. All is forgiven for Gene and the emojis are given a world where they can serve their own purpose to society, whatever that purpose might be.

           Utilitarian theory is nothing new, and it has both its merits and its flaws, but the type of utilitarianism presented in The Emoji Movie is inherently flawed, as it places Gene’s happiness above the well-being of the collective for the majority of the movie. The ending in itself is also serves as a perfect propaganda point for the utilitarian theory that it begins to uphold later on. Gene obtains happiness when he is most useful to the group collective—and thus, happiness becomes associated with utility to the group. Instead of positing that happiness can be found through the self, or that the self can and should be used to help others, The Emoji Movie combines the two, raising the idea that true bliss can only be achieved when your “self” is given to others.

           Ultimately, this idea is an idea that I disagree with. Whether or not you choose to side with me is up to you, but, speaking objectively, the romanticizing of self-sacrifice is an idea that has tangible harm on audiences who are fed it without question. Modern Japan, for instance, continued to have problems with high suicide rates due to the presentation of hara-kiri, or suicide by sword as “altruistic” in many historical texts (Suicide in 20th Century Japan, 150). This is not to say that using one’s self to assist others is harmful—good deeds are the basis of a functioning society—it is simply to note that the mixed messages that The Emoji Movie gives point towards both complete discovery and complete subjugation of the self in an unhealthy and shoddy portrayal of a moral that has always been cliched at best.

           The Emoji Movie also makes the mistake of attempting to tackle “women’s issues,” despite not even passing the Bechdel Test. Throughout the movie, Jailbreak’s primary motivator is that she wants to be free to express herself however she wants, which she will obtain by reaching the cloud. The movie attempts to attach this to womanhood by attaching this to Jailbreak wanting to escape the oppressive strictures of heteropatriarchal femininity—except, in the finale, she is framed as being in the wrong for not reciprocating Gene’s feelings for her. Not just this, but the day is saved by her using her femininity and consenting to be with Gene, despite her feelings on the matter never being brought up for discussion. Despite the single throwaway line about “men getting credit for women’s work” The Emoji Movie is not pro-woman, and could easily be interpreted as the opposite of that. It defines traditional femininity as being the most useful aspect of a woman to a society and inherently ties all its female characters to something within that stricture, pushing its heteropatriarchal utilitarianist propaganda points deep into the dirt as it tries the make the point that “sensitive guys are cool too.” This is not to say that women who embrace their traditional femininity are by any means being women incorrectly—The Emoji Movie just happens to portray its women poorly, using them always as tools for the man-driven plot and never fleshing them out as characters.

           Tony Leondis offered his own interpretation of The Emoji Movie’s story, calling it a “coming-out story” which is significant, as Leondis is both the director of the movie and a gay man. If one looks from a distance and squints, the similarities between The Emoji Movie and a coming-out story can become visible. Gene is outcast for his “malfunction” as many gay teens will be. The butchering that follows this plot point is incredibly poorly done, and leads to something to utterly offensive and heterosexual to be called a “coming-out story.” First and foremost, a “coming-out story” needs to reach the very low bar of deviating from traditional heterosexuality in its story’s romantic subplots, somehow. This seems to go without saying, but the team of The Emoji Movie conveniently forgot this, instead tripling down on the action and giving the audience three heterosexual romantic subplots, those being the ones between Alex and Addie, Gene and Jailbreak, and Gene’s Mother and Father. None of these deviate at all from a traditional heterosexual romantic story, and, if anything, Gene and Jailbreak’s story enforces obligatory heterosexuality instead of contradicting it. Not only that, but the farther one goes into the plot, the less a coming out story makes sense. When Gene’s father reveals that he has the same malfunction, is he being implied to be the emoji version of “gay?” In a better movie, this could have been used as a tool to foster an emotional connection between Gene and his father, but The Emoji Movie is not that better movie, so this plot point is essentially forget after it becomes irrelevant. In the finale, Gene actually watches his parents get “erased” and can’t break out any expression except a “meh,” which is telling of how well the emoji movie establishes connections between its characters.

           The themes explored in The Emoji Movie are explore poorly at best, and offensively at worst, often taking a back seat to the far more important message of the film—the advertisements. Ultimately, the reason that The Emoji Movie does such a terrible job with its ideas is that these ideas are only borrowed plot points, there to mask the movie for what it really is—a massive commercial for phone apps. The true message of The Emoji Movie isn’t “be yourself” or even “make yourself useful” it’s “buy our product,” and everything beyond this is simply pointless fluff.

PART THREE

           It’s no secret that The Emoji Movie was a corporatist cash-grab, but it was astounding to see just how deeply that had sunk into the movie itself. The entire story is product placement after product placement, a journey to Dropbox, through Candy Crush and Dance Now,  so unabashed in its capitalism that it made me question the film industry as a whole. Where do we draw the line between business and art? At what point do we leave all hope of creativity behind and choose to instead sink into shameless cash grabs and commercials like The Emoji Movie? Then I realized, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that The Emoji Movie had indeed killed art.

           On its first day, The Emoji Movie made ten million dollars in box office sales—a fifth of what it cost to produce. Despite withering reviews and constant scorn from the demographics it seemed to be targeting, The Emoji Movie will chuckle through its entire life as a movie, because it played us all. This movie is a Frankenstein’s monster created by Hollywood, a mishmash of everything that makes money crammed into one pandering mess of a film, and I’m sure it knows this. I’m sure it knows that it looks like a dumb, out of touch, unwatchable pile of garbage, but I’m also sure that it doesn’t care about this, because it’s found a way to make money without even trying.

           The Emoji Movie probably paid for itself in the sheer amount of advertisements it crammed into its ninety minute runtime, and the young, impressionable minds watching it will all be immediately entranced by the colorful scenery of lands like Spotify and Candy Crush. Sales will go up for the sponsors, and the Hollywood capitalist fat-cats who decided that a movie should be made out of emojis will laugh all the way to their enormous Beverly Hills mansions. They knew that they could take advantage of the “car crash phenomenon” that makes people stare at things they shouldn’t, so they sent The Emoji Movie out to their theatres and made a quick buck for Sony Animation.

           But beyond this, The Emoji Movie sets a precedent. It showed that idiots like me can be drawn to this shit like moths to a light. It showed that movies do not need to have good quality, or have be art, to be marketable, and that the film industry should prioritize business and profits above all else. The Emoji Movie has proved, statistically, that quality cinema should always come second to quality advertising. The time to organize against the Hollywood capitalist is now. A boycott of terrible Sony films is the least the we can do to stop them, even though such an action would be little more than a thorn in their hide. We Must accept that our idiocy and submission to this trash is at least partially responsible for the state of film as it is in America today, and we must break free of the chains that force us into our roles as submissive cash cows.

           Good cinema does good things for those that watch it. It can be used as a tool to convey important and revolutionary ideas, or to relay important information to those that are systemically spat on by traditional education. Historically great films have caused great controversy, such as the movie adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird which caused riots in the south upon its release. When we let film fall to business we lose a part of our cultural identity—we submit art, heritage, and storytelling as just another part of a capitalist machine.

           We have the buying power. We choose where we spend our money, and where we place our values. No longer can I sit idly in my movie seat and watch terrible movies for fun—the time for action against the greatest threat to art in the western world is now. Resist capitalism, resist the state, and resist the attack upon the most basic human freedom of expression.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Until next time, Comrades.

-Sunshine

By Heart [ IV ] [ Final ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst

Length: 5k

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Summary: Getting over him was the most impossible thing in the world because part of you couldn’t believe it was really over.

By Heart Masterlist

Originally posted by kyungsuhos

Everything felt soft around you, the mattress that dipped to the curve of your spine, the feathery pillow cradling your head, the comforter tangled around your legs. The air was quiet around you, fingers splaying out against the sheet as your body shifted onto its side, eyes screwing shut as you fought off waking up to no avail. The sunshine began to peel through your lids til you fluttered them open, squinting into the light pouring through the sheer curtains that framed the window across from you. You deeply inhaled, the smell familiar and calming as your eyes flickered around the bedroom, taking in each and every thing you hadn’t seen in so long. The beaten up dresser that needed replaced, the books that were tattered shoved into their shelves, even the neatly folded clothes waiting for you on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

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