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asumofwords · 9 months

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Treat - Ettore x Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Somnophillia, rape, non-con, slight dub-con, masturbation, creepiness, sedation, assault, drugs, induced vomiting, blood, spitting, cum play, violence, degradation.

Pairings: Dark!Ettore x Reader (It’s Ettore… come on)

Synopsis: The cold of space had nothing on the cool glare of Ettore, another inmate on the spacecraft you were sentenced to life on. At the mercy of the Doctor onboard, Dibs, all are a part of fertility experiments and used as test subjects. Said Doctor has increased your sedation dosage as part of the trials, what will happen when suspicions arise for the unusual things happening to your body?

Word Count: 6.1k

Notes: @targaryenrealnessdarling and @ewanmitchellcrumbs inspired this hedonistic fucking abomination by creating an obsession with a man I shouldn’t even like. This is DD:DNE territory, so you have been warned. I blame you both for making me so fucking feral for this man. Enjoy ;) <3

It was cold.

It’s not supposed to be cold, but it was.

There was no way to keep out the chill of outer space. No way to keep the sub zero chill outside from seeping into metal ship you drifted in. No way to keep the unnatural of being in space away from your bones.

Your senses.

There was heating, and it was warm enough inside for you to wear shorts and a shirt, some mandated clothing given to you, but even then, the artificial warmth couldn’t keep the chill from seeping into the walls or floors.

Or perhaps it was the chill of being watched.

But you were always being watched, prisoner and a body for human experimental trials, or ‘guinea pigs’ as Boyse says, another inmate who hates being there just as much as you. She was sweet enough, but you kept her, like everyone else, at an arms length.

Being put on the floating jail in space was a combination of a shit routine and being stuck with other not so great people. When you first arrived, you had kept to yourself, quiet, head down, methodical. You didn’t want trouble, you just wanted peace. And anything was better than the Super Max they had you in before back on Earth.

So you were good.

Took your meds when told, took showers when commanded, ate and slept on the clock like a well trained pet. And sometimes, if you were feeling particularly inclined, which was more often than not, you found yourself in The Box. A crude space for you to go in and get out your ‘urges’.

'Fraternising' with the others was a big no no, but really, what were they going to do? Shoot you out the hull? You doubted it, and if you were honest, you didn’t care much either way.

You were going to die on this ship, lost in the same fucking routine for the rest of your days if you didn’t all go absolutely bat shit insane and cannibalise each other, which was a real fear Monte had whispered to you once.

Not much of a talker that one.

But Ettore was worse.

He barely even spoke a word. He just watched.

Listened.

Like he was sizing everyone up, writing invisible notes in his mind of who was who, and what was what. As though he was collecting intel from everyone like a secret government plant, or as though he was waiting to sell secrets, not that there really were any, all of you were there for crimes that warranted a life sentence.

Death sentence in your case.

And the way Ettore watched you, watched Boyse, or any of the other women on board, gave you an inkling as to what he may have done to deserve being locked up with the rest of you.

But it didn’t stop you from being intrigued, nor casting an extra glance here or there to watch him. Pine over him even, bent over, shirtless scrubbing the floor, but what else were you to do? You hadn't been touched in months, maybe years, you couldn't tell how long it had been with no natural rise or set of the sun, and he wasn't bad on the eyes. Leaning against the wall of the hull, waiting for whoever it was in The Box to finish.

Because thats where he always was.

The Box.

You would say it bordered on slightly neurotic. Obsessive. Insatiable.

And it was the moments before he went in that really rivalled the chill of space.

His pale blue eyes would always find you.

Always.

And although it sent shivers down your spine in fear and disgust, it also settled a warmth within you too.

It was hard.

Not being able to touch anyone.

Being surrounded by people, all day, all night, and not once having a chance to feel them. Hold them. Be with them. You had thought that perhaps Dibs would have at least let same sex interactions slide because there was no possible way for conception, but it was as if the bitch was edging herself. Or had some sick fetish of having everyone in a fucking cube strung out to shit in space.

Not the smartest of moves to whoever gave this experiment the go ahead, but you had to give them props for their misplaced faith.

You padded down the hall, making your way to the Doctors office, ready to collect your meds; sleeping pills which knocked you flat on your ass about half an hour after ingesting them, and then go to bed.

You saw the door up ahead and sighed, it was not that you didn’t want to sleep, you just hated the idea of constantly being pumped with this shit.

Surely it wasn’t good for your body?

But then again, being in space and stuck where you were with no choice to go outside in fresh air, noting that there wasn’t any air outside the craft, wasn’t good for you either.

Unnatural.

But it was all unnatural.

And in some ways, better than death row.

Sometimes.

Just as you moved to round the door, Ettore’s large body ducked beneath the frame, strolling right past you. His eyes flicked over your body quickly, predatorily, lashes blinking softly as he brushed past you and went on his way back to his cell.

There was that cold again.

It surrounded him like a wraith.

You slid into the room, Dibs barely sparing you a glance as you stood behind her, her long fingers fucking about on the table as she took her time to give you the meds you got from her at the same time, every fucking day. You thought that perhaps she may be a little more organised since all she did was sit around on her ass and be a prat.

But she wasn’t, and you waited, standing beside her as she swivelled in her stupid little chair to face you.

You had always had a pretty good read on people. Ever since you were young, you could spot the bad ones from the good, but it never really kept you away from the bad. Your ex's more bad than they were good.

It excited you, if you were going to be honest.

The rush of adrenaline, feeling of fear as your fight or flight would kick in when you looked at someone and just knew they had a more sinister part of them simmering beneath the surface.

And the moment you had spotted Ettore on the ship, being strapped in beside him, the alarm bells had rung in your head, blaring red DANGER behind your eyes. And you had felt the same fluttering in your chest as you felt his eyes on you the whole time.

But Dibs?

She was different.

There was something more malevolent than what meets the eye. Something that hid behind her dark gaze. And as you stood inside the make shift infirmary, doctors notes spread out on her table, shut curtains behind you, you felt as though perhaps you would have been safer stuck inside The Box with Ettore.

Dibs held out a small plastic cup to you, two pills inside.

Usually, it held one.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at her.

"Changed dosage.” Was the only thing she offered you.

“Why?”

The Doctor blinked up at you with no answer, silence falling over you. You asked again, and were met with the same blank stare. And so you took the cup begrudgingly, snatching it from her hand and throwing the two little pills into the back of your mouth to dry swallow them. You could feel them catch on the back of your throat, sitting heavily like a lump, and so you swallowed once more to get them down.

Dibs gave you a sterile smile, and turned away back to her notes, scribbling.

You stomped away, walking back down the corridor to go to your cell, feeling the acidic, briny feeling on the back of your tongue.

No matter how many nights you had swallowed those things, it always made a bad taste settle in the back of your mouth, and a hollowness in your stomach.

When you had first arrived on the ship, you struggled to fall to sleep knowing that you were drifting in space, and couldn't get off even if you wanted, with the low hum of the ship in a constant drone keeping you alert, and so Dibs had given you sedatives to help you drift off.

There was already sedatives in the water Dibs gave you all, but the other girls in your cell followed suit soon enough, asking for the little pill so that they could sleep undisturbed in the night.

The closer you go to your room, the more your mind felt clouded, as though a thick layer of fog had crossed it, obscuring your thoughts and making each one feel as though they had been dipped inside a vat of molasses.

Even your limbs felt heavy, and so you hurried your uneven pace to your cell block, stumbling against a wall where you flopped down onto the bed, too exhausted to pull yourself beneath the sheets as the room around you spun.

You could feel and hear the others making their way to their bunks after you, but your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, you were out like a light. As though a switch had been flicked by the manicured nails of Dibs.

There were no dreams to be had, not even an awareness of sleep, just a deep, black abyss that swallowed you whole and completely, with neither complaint nor fight from your limbs.

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was how tired you still were, as though the medication still lingered in your periphery like dark little tendrils that rubbed smooth and soothing hands upon your mind, trying to lure you back.

But the day had to move on, and you were unstrapped from your bed, limbs feeling entirely too heavy to lift as you hauled yourself out. You didn't understand the need for the restraints, especially since you would be sedated and unable to move anyway, but you supposed they were there to keep you put in case you did.

Behavioural issues and that.

Who knows what the others had done to warrant a death row sentence. Yours certainly wasn't a light one.

The moment your feet hit the ground, your stomach lurched. Pain rippling up through your stomach.

What the hell?

You rubbed your face blearily and sighed, chalking it up to your period making an appearance early this month, or perhaps Dibs' experiments had finally stuck, or were melting your insides by the feel of it.

Dibs was going to have a field day with you, you knew it. You would have your legs pried open by stirrups and have her shove a million and one swabs inside of you like she did every month.

Like clockwork.

Well, cycle really.

You hated it.

Another thing to add to the misery of it all; being prodded by a stone faced bitch who only showed kindness to the men on board. Couldn't even get off to the way she shoved those cotton swabs or fingers inside you, fishing around as if she was going through a pocket for spare change.

Except this pain was sharp, and stung, but was dulled by whatever lingering sleeping pill was dragging your body down. You would have to tell the eager Doctor to be more gentle about turkey basting you with whoever's cum she picked from her cups.

Boyse had told you once she could have sworn she saw Dibs dipping her fingers into the 'donation' cups to taste test each one. You had laughed so hard you cried, and Monte had eyed you from across the canteen.

You yawned and stretched, ignoring the ache and hit the showers with the others, beginning your day of chores.

Today you were cleaning, something you actually didn’t mind. It was methodical, time consuming, and there was a clear outcome at the end that you enjoyed.

Cloth and cleaner in hand, you polished handles and doors and any surface that you could reach, wiping down the metal and other surfaces to sterilise them.

Boyse was on floor duty that day, and so she cleaned alongside you quietly, the occasional whisper or conversation had as you moved. But you truly struggled to hold one, your mind still muddled from the lurch of the changed dose.

You would need to speak about lowering said dosage back to normal with Dibs. This was like trying to think and exist when shitfaced at the pub.

God you missed the pub.

It was the little things you missed most. Things that you had taken for granted, like wind, or rain, or bugs. You missed the itch of being bitten. How fucked was that? Missing mosquitoes? Dibs needed to check your head rather than your fertility.

And so the day ended, and every surface in one wing of the ship was spotless thanks to yours and Boyse’s work. You ate alongside the others quietly and couldn’t help but feel that chill again, covering you in an icy blanket.

Lifting your head, you spotted Ettore watching you.

Still.

Like those nature documentaries you used to watch, when the lions would be hidden in the tall grass, still as a rock, watching and waiting to pounce on the galloping gazelle.

Your mouth felt dry, and the hunger you had felt left, pain winding its way inside of you as you stood slowly, careful to not set anyone off, especially him, and moved to clear your plate to go to Dr. Dibs.

You were more eager to get away from Ettore’s piercing gaze than anything, feeling like a game of cat and mouse, waiting to turn your head and see him chasing after you down the halls. It set your skin alight.

But he didn't.

Your journey to speak to the doctor about your dosage was a waste. Dibs didn’t budge, and in your hand ,the small pill tub was dropped with two inside.

You watched her intently, mouth parted to argue.

“You done yet?” Ettore’s voice swallowed the artificial air in the room.

Your head snapped to the door, watching as he slowly walked in, like a predator, looking at you intently. You blinked up at him, his lean form towering over you in the sterile cream room. You could smell the soft scent of generic soap you all used and the musky undertones of him beneath.

“I want my treat.” He spoke again, hand held out to Dibs, who placed a pill in his palm, no cup holding it. Simply placed into his palm with her fingers, as though there was an element of familiarity between the two.

The cold of his gaze contrasted the warmth of his body as it loomed over you.

Dibs spun on her chair to look at you through her lashes, eyes dropping pointedly to the pills still un-swallowed in your cup, “Take them.”

You threw the pills into the back of your throat, locking eyes with Ettore as you dry swallowed them, holding back the grimace as they slid down the back of your throat roughly. Ettore followed, smacking his palm over his mouth as he swallowed his own, then turning his head to open his mouth in show to Dibs, who gave him a soft smile.

“Smashing. Thank you.” He spoke down to her, accent thick on his tongue. His eyes flicked over you once more before he sauntered out the room.

Your feet felt stuck on the linoleum flooring until Dibs cleared her throat at you, “Go back to your cell.”

Taking her command, you left, winding down the corridor, falling onto your bed again and succumbing to the heavy sleep.

This went on for days, the same dosage, the same medicated sedation, and the same groggy rising with a continued ache that never seemed to leave your core. You waited for the blood to come, but there was only the occasional bit of spotting.

Perhaps a lighter cycle this month.

It wasn’t until that morning, when you went to the showers did you notice something was not right. Something that justified the inkling in the back of your mind that something was afoot with the pain that wracked your body.

That the pain wasn’t due to your monthly cycle, and something far more sinister instead.

Washing down with soap, the others in their cubicles beside you, your eyes were drawn to colour that should not be on the skin. Dark blotches of purples and blue, streaked with pinks across your hips and inner thighs. Your fingers pressed into them, hissing as pain shot up through you. But the pain wasn’t what made you blanch. It was the shape of them. And how your fingers fit perfectly within the large blooms of colour.

Fingerprints.

More specifically, finger marks, littered across your body.

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked at them, horror and sickness skyrocketing inside of you. Bile rose in your throat, and the urge to scrub your skin raw became an immediate compulsion, your nails scratching at the bruises roughly.

Dressing rapidly, you raced to the Doctors office, shoes not even on as your feet slapped on the floor loudly as you made your way down. But of course, whatever high power above controlled the fate that surrounded you had other plans for you, and your body collided with a body of steel.

You neck craned up, meeting the icy glare of Ettore.

“Watch it.” He sneered down at you, hands at his sides in fists.

You didn’t know what to do but blink at him, and it was all you did, looking up at the man who set your skin alight, a blush creeping along your cheeks and fear shimmering down your spine.

“You gonna move?” He asked again, lips pulled into a sharp frown.

You took a step back, then another, and another, Ettore’s eyes grazing over your body, settling on your chest as it heaved, wet patches of your shirt sticking to your skin.

You swallowed thickly.

“Quiet one, huh.” Ettore mused, eyes becoming half hooded as he watched you, “They always scream the loudest.”

You sneered, watching as Ettore walked towards you, leaning his head down just a bit as he whispered to you, “I’ll be in The Box.” Before he was on his way, body swaying with his walk.

Your heart leaped through your chest as you watched him.

“Somethings wrong.” You sat on the doctors bed, legs in stirrups as Dibs looked at you in annoyance, clinical eyes roving your body as you pulled your shorts high on your hips to display the bruises on your thighs.

Dibs didn’t even blink at them, just glanced at them shortly before writing in her notes.

“Something is-“

“-Vitamin D deficiency, Iron deficiency.”

“Fuck you. It looks li-“

“Take these.”

Her hand was held out to you, a small circular brown pill and an oblong pink one sat inside a medical cup. You blinked at her hand as she held them out to you.

“I don’t fucking-“

“-Take them. Or you will be marked as refusing treatment.”

Snatching the cup from her palm, your own nails scratching her hand, you threw them back into your mouth, staring at her angrily as you swallowed them.

“Good girl.” Dr. Dibs spun in her chair away from you and back to her desk, already looking through her notes in dismissal.

You swung your legs out of the stirrups and sat on the edge of the bed looking at her, staring daggers into the back of her head.

It could be so easy.

Who would know it was you?

You could just-

“Are you refusing to leave now too? Very naughty of you. Monte will have to come deal with this behaviour, little birdy.” Came her slimy voice.

"Fuck you."

Grunting, you hopped off the bed and stormed out the room, muttering beneath your breath in agitation and anger as it poured out of you.

"Fucking bitch."

Something was wrong, and you knew it.

Fucking useless cunt.

You went back to your chores, but found that you could scarcely concentrate with the anger that seemed to mount within.

You needed a release, and fast.

The Box was made for just such thing, and so you dropped the clippers in your palm in the garden and made your way to your destination. The anticipation of going into The Box made way for excitement over the anger, but all in all, it still rippled through you in waves.

All you needed was a good and rough fuck.

Get the anger out.

Your ex was always a good source of inspiration when inside The Box. The way his hips would snap into yours brutally, his teeth in your flesh, hands slapping, pinching.

Choking.

The Box would calm you down.

Your legs carried you down the ladder before you jumped down the last few impatiently, the light in this part of the ship far darker than the rest. You walked forward, looking at the closed door before feeling ice wash over you.

Who else would be waiting outside of it but Ettore.

His cool eyes flicked to yours as your steps slowed, looking to him and then the closed door. His lips pursed together into a pout and one corner pulled down into a smirk.

Shit eating bastard.

He leant back against the steel wall of the hull, head turned to look down at you as you leant beside him. Too frustrated to turn back, and not willing to let him scare you out of a reprieve that you needed.

“Gonna be waiting a while.” Ettore hummed, suggestive grin on his lips before he swiped a tongue against the front of his teeth noisily.

You looked him up and down, no mood for his attitude or creeping glares, “You look like it’d be quick.” You purred.

Ettore’s nostrils flared and his lips pulled down into a sneer, he pushed off of the wall, looking down at you as he adjusted his jaw, the muscles clenching tightly, blue eyes narrowed.

Your head connected with the metal behind you as he jerked you back into it roughly, forearm pressed against the top of your chest. Pain bloomed in the back of your skull, but that didn’t stop the small mewl that escaped from your lips.

Ettore’s eyes widened before they narrowed, face looming in closer to you as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, heat blooming in your stomach.

The door to The Box opened and Boyse stepped out, eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

Ettore stepped back dropping his arm to his side as he spun around and entered, facing you as the doors began to close, his eyes roaming down your body slowly as he sucked his tongue.

A shiver rolled through you.

Boyse watched you carefully, “You right?”

You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beat like a drum in your chest, “Yea, I’m alright. Asshole.”

Boyse nodded and left, and you waited for your turn, waiting for the door to open again, but it didn’t.

The moments flew by and it almost felt as if he was taking his time because of your comment. Punishing you.

Proving a point.

Fucking cunt.

You huffed and pushed away from the wall, making your way back to work again, knowing that dinner would be soon, and then the deep and dreamless sleep once more.

Dinner was quick, and in no time you were walking down to collect your sedatives from the Doctor who made your skin crawl almost as badly as Ettore. Your mood had not improved, and you would say that the want that simmered inside of you made it even worse now that it had gone unattended.

When you entered the infirmary, Ettore was already there, talking quietly with Dibs who was seated, craning her neck up to look at him with a soft smile on her lips.

Fucking pick-me.

Upon hearing your arrival, both turned to face you, and Ettore instinctually held out his hand, a pill placed in its palm, before it put it in his mouth, his eyes on you, narrowed and almost angry. But when he looked down at the doctor, a soft smirk wound its way on his lips and he whispered a small ‘thank you’ to her, brushing past you with a sniff on his way out.

You held out your palm in the same manner he had, eyes still on the door Ettore had walked out of, feeling the plastic of the small cup being placed in the centre. You looked down at it.

Two sedatives.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?" You grumbled, and tilted your head back, letting the two pills roll onto your tongue, Dibs eyes watching.

But there was something about it.

Something about her watching you like that, that made you shiver.

“Show me.” She commanded and you swallowed both dryly, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue obscenely at her so that she could get a closer look.

The Doctor nodded and turned away, back to her notes.

But fear scrambled in your throat.

You all but raced out of the office, making your way straight to the toilet, dropping to your knees in front of it as your instincts took over, shoving two fingers down your throat. You gagged quietly in the space, daring to not draw attention to what you were doing.

You did it again, and the bile and bitter taste of stomach acid flooded your tongue. You bent over the rim gasping, looking down into the water to see if the pills were in the bowl with your dinner.

You spotted one and collapsed down onto the floor feeling some sort of relief, though your stomach still turned, and bile coated your tongue. You sat there for a moment, feeling the cool of the bathroom floor on your thighs and hands before standing.

You couldn’t get caught.

You flushed the toilet and brushed your teeth carefully, cupping water into your mouth to rinse the acidic taste that settled behind your teeth. And yet still, you were still wrought with nerves.

As you lay in your bed, bottom bunk opposite to Boyse, you stared up at the top one, the restraints strapping you down by your arms as the beginnings of sedated fatigue gnawed at your vision.

So you had only gotten one pill out.

No matter.

Better than both.

At least it calmed your heart, and you turned your head to look at Boyse who was already out like a light, the soft curve of her nose shadowed in the dim of the room.

You wondered what she was here for often, but never had the courage or want to learn.

Some things are better left unsaid.

You tried to resist it, tried to fight the way your eyelashes sagged and your limbs fell heavier by the second, but in no time at all, you were sucked into the usual dreamless state that you had been in for god knows how long you had been on that goddamn ship.

It’s dark.

So dark.

And warm.

Soft pressing in the back of your mind, drawing you just below the surface of consciousness.

Why was it so warm?

There was pressure.

Pressure on top of you.

Pressure inside of you.

A thing.

Or two.

Maybe three.

What?

The pressure turned to a dull ache.

A pain.

Pleasure?

Why was it so warm?

It curled in your gut and you groaned, mind foggy, limbs of stone as you felt the weight of your body come back to you. Come back to the room.

The bed.

Soft sheets.

Grunts.

Weight.

Warm.

Pain in your thighs. Pain between them. Weight on top of you.

Breaths in your ear that are not your own.

Grunts.

Moans.

Hisses.

Eyelids feeling like lead as they fluttered, the sound around you louder, rustling, wet, clapping, breathing.

The room spun on its axis, mind reeling as you were pulled from the depths of your sedated sleep, your body reacting to whatever was being done to it.

It was hard.

Hard to stay awake.

You drifted again, bobbing beneath the surface only to rise back up again, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. Blurred vision making it hard to focus.

Heavy mind making it hard to comprehend.

Hard to see.

“Whas-“ You slurred, head being rocked backwards by movements, making the nausea that rose within stronger, barreling through you with a spearing sensation.

A loud grunt in your ear as the jolting of your body picked up. Something moving inside of you.

Atop you.

You could see movement above you, hair, a body.

A face.

Ettore.

You blinked, his sharp jawline coming into focus, comprehension wading through the thick fog of your mind as you continued to look up at him, mind reeling to figure out what was going on.

Eyes half lidded, lips pulled down into a sneer, Ettore rutted into you from above.

“Wha-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, hand slapping over your lips as he fucked into you.

Your eyes widened, pain blooming through you, strength dulled, senses foggy, but knowing.

Knowing.

You knew now.

Ettore’s length fucked into you roughly, the tip beating against your cervix painfully. The stretch stung as he drilled into you, splitting you apart on his cock. Each thrust was just as brutal as the other, the sound of his hips clapping against yours loud in the cell of the others sedated, still in their dreams.

Was this a dream?

It felt too real.

You writhed beneath him sluggishly, trying to get out of his grip, breathing heavily through your nose as his hand stayed pressed against your mouth, small whimpers and grunts spilling into his palm as his cock bullied your walls repeatedly.

Ettore watched your face, lips pulling up into a smile as he gave a particularly harsh thrust, your eyes scrunching shut in pain as you yelped, sensing you had come fully to the surface of consciousness to feel the truth of his assault.

Pain pinged up you, your walls clamping down on him as your hips tried to angle away from him, restraints cutting into the skin of your wrists, legs too heavy to lift. Tugging at them for dear life as he watched you struggle from below. He laughed, deep in his chest before a groan fell from his swollen lips, eyes closing in pleasure with his mouth hung open.

You tried to scream beneath him palm, to try and wake the others, to call for help, for anything. But the hand at your mouth did not budge, and so the muffled sound of your cries fell on sedated ears. Tears prickled in your eyes from the pain as you tried to shake your head away from him, mouth opening.

You bit down on his palm.

Hard.

Ettore cursed, flinching as he pulled his hand away from your face, fist reeling back before it connected painfully into the side of your mouth.

You could taste blood. Coppery on your tongue, and you didn’t know if it was his or yours. Probably a mixture of the two. But your bite did not deter him, and his thrusts only became crueler, your body jolting beneath him as you felt wet beneath your hips.

How long had he been doing this?

How many times had he done this?

But the wet was not just from the man above you.

It also came from you.

Small sparks of pleasure wound its way up through your gut as he rutted into you in fervent, animalistic thrusts. Each one a sharp grunt or hiss falling from his lips. Each one, his tip bullying the soft and sponge spot within you. Each thrust winding the coil within tighter and tighter.

Ettore slapped your cheek, a small cry falling from your lips as you looked up at him, tears running down your cheeks as you sobbed quietly.

From the pain.

From the shock.

From the pleasure.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He growled, “Fucking dirty bitch.”

Another sob, mouth opened to cry out.

His lips pursed, and warmth sprayed across your face, the wet of his spit landing across cheeks and lips, hand coming to grab your jaw painfully as he squeezed, the joints protesting with pops as he continued, no doubt bruises to be seen in the morning.

Your walls fluttered around him, each snap of his hips grazing your swollen clit sending euphoria racing up your spine.

It was all too much.

“Look at you.” He sneered at you meanly, “Gonna cum on my cock aren’t you? Feel you tightening up. Fuck. So fucking disgusting. Asking for it. Always looking at me with those fucking eyes. Take it.”

It was a peel of words that continued to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his pace faltered.

He was near his end, and you were too.

With two hands, he wrapped them around your neck, leaning his weight down on it as he fucked into you, black spots blooming in your vision as he cut off both air and blood supply. You wheezed beneath him, thrashing against the restraints, hands in fists as they rubbed the skin raw.

You felt light, airy as you looked up at him, the lead of your limbs lifting with the lack of oxygen, the angle he fucked you in having changed, and each rut of his hips jabbed against your G-spot violently.

“Take it, you fucking cunt.” He growled, your eyes fluttering shut as you began to feel weightless, beginning to drift back to your sleep. A nice sleep. Comfortable one. Soft and warm and-

You came violently, a silent cry ripped from your throat, eyes shooting open as you looked up at the man who bit his bottom lip roughly, eyebrows knotted together as he fucked you through it.

The hands left your throat, gasp sucked into your lungs as you writhed beneath him, his thrusts pulling painful pleasure from you as his hips stuttered, one hand clawing at your hip, the other tugging your head back by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Ettore came with a grunt, head dipping down to bite into the sensitive skin in the crux of your shoulder, teeth piercing the skin as you whimpered below him.

Hot ropes of his cum filled your walls, his thrusts stilling as you felt him throb within you, teeth still in your neck that he lapped at with his tongue, breathing hotly through his nose against the skin.

Another tear fell down your cheek as you lay beneath him, staring up at the cool, darkened grey of the ceiling. Pain and pleasure swirling around each other hotly in your core and gut, walls still fluttering around him from your own release.

You swallowed dryly, throat hoarse from where he choked you and wriggled beneath him, stirring his rest as he grunted into your neck, finally releasing the skin from his teeth. Small incisions and blooming bruise beginning to take its spot there, a dribble of blood leaking from where a crooked tooth pinched flesh between another.

He huffed above you as the world spun, slowly pulling out of you. You whimpered and half whined, feeling sensitive. Stinging pain and pleasure winding its way around your entrance.

Too much.

Ettore sat back on his haunches, cock softening in front of him as he looked down at you, fully naked. Your eyes roamed his body, muscular and lean all in one, watching you with lust filled eyes and hatred.

Another tear dripped down your cheek as his eyes roamed down your body, to the torn shorts he had ripped to the side, watching as his spend leaked out of you. His hand shot out, scooping fingers through your folds as you hissed, playing with his cum and smearing it into your folds and along your thighs.

Your heart pounded in your chest, nausea turning painfully in your stomach as he moved to loom over you, looking down at your tear streaked cheeks and the blood on your split lip, bits of his saliva dried on your face from where he had spat on you.

His lips pulled into a smirk, sticky fingers coming to smear themselves on your cheek as he pulled your shorts back into place, adjusting you roughly beneath him.

“Wasn’t too quick for you I hope.” He mocked, giving your face a rough tap before he stood, pulling on his pants and shirt as he looked down at you, chest heaving as you cried quietly, adrenaline pumping through you.

His eyebrows lifted on his face, grinning once he was dressed, grabbing your face in his hand and shaking it as he cooed at you.

“Good girl.” Another tap.

He left without another word, leaving you strapped to your bed, body aching and bruised as his cum leaked out of you, pooling wetly into the crotch of your shorts. You could still feel him inside you, thrusting atop you, his breath fanned in your ears.

You sucked in a steeling breath, shaking in the restraints, skin raw and bleeding in some places where you tugged too hard, pulled too violently as you shook beneath him, pleasure exploding within.

You didn't drift back to sleep, no matter how hard you tried, the sedative had worn off and adrenaline kept you alert.

You simply laid in your bunk, in your cell, surrounded by people who were none the wiser to your attack, sleeping soundly in their own restrained cots as your eyes stayed to the doorway, waiting for him to return.

Knowing that he would.

And not minding it either.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @hiraethrhapsody @hogwarts1207 @notnormalthings-blog @iamavailablesstuff @youraverageaemondsimp @mochi-rose @bel-bottoms @sassypain @triscy @watercolorskyy @moonliightbabes @toodlesxcuddles @avataranne @tosiaf @bunnychuu @malfoytargaryen @tssf-imagines @qyburnsghost

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impalaimagining · 3 months

Text

Super, Super Bowl

Dean Winchester x Reader

950 words

Note: Unbeta'd, unedited. Slammed my keyboard while my kids watched Mickey Mouse. This is the result.

Dean’s man cave. The biggest television you’d ever seen, the comfiest reclining chairs you’d ever sat in, the coldest refrigerator known to man - the perfect place for a Super Bowl party. Dean was going to have the game on anyway, why not make the most of it?

Halfway through the season, headlines started popping up everywhere - about Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift. And football.

What?

Turned out she was dating Travis Kelce, some dude from the Kansas City Chiefs. Dean watched the Kansas City games religiously, as long as he was in the bunker, or, if by some magical power of the universe, the motel TV could pick it up. The groan that escaped Dean when Taylor Swift started showing up on the screen once they publicly outed their relationship was nothing short of hilarious.

It started out small, the way you taunted and teased Dean about her being ever-present. You wore a friendship bracelet with the number 87 on it - Travis’s jersey number. You bought a beanie, white and red, like the one Taylor was seen wearing at one of the colder games. You managed to snag a Kelce jersey online during a flash sale when the Chiefs were headed to the playoffs.

It came to a head when you found a shop on Etsy selling sweatshirts that said, “in my football era” in bubbly pink lettering. Everything looked good - great, even - for the Chiefs on the path to the Super Bowl. Dean watched you open the package when you got home from the post office and with the eye-roll he gave, you were honestly a little concerned that he’d strain an orbital muscle.

“Leave me alone.” You huffed, concealing a smile.

“As long as she doesn’t show up as a surprise halftime show guest, I don’t give a damn about her.” Dean grumbled, heading toward his hideaway.

You lingered in the library, slumping down into the couch while you scrolled through endless suggested, targeted posts about Taylor Swift and her boyfriend, her boyfriend’s brother and his family, her boyfriend’s mom, the suite they’d be sitting in for the game. You name it and there was a blurb about it online. Jarring you out of your screen-induced daze, Dean’s voice rattled through the concrete halls.

“What the hell is going on in here?!”

A smirk pulled on the right side of your lips as you set your phone down beside you and painted on your best innocent face. Dean’s socked feet managed to sound as heavy as his boots as they pounded back to the library.

“Do you care to explain what exactly happened in there?” He pursed his lips, brows raised.

You shrugged, still feigning innocence. “What happened in there?”

“Don’t get cute.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Is Sam pranking you again? I thought you two moved on from that.” You furrowed your brows in faux confusion. “Aren’t you a little old for practical jokes?”

“No, Sam - Sam doesn’t have anything to do with that monstrosity. What did you do to my man cave?!” You stood and took a step toward Dean, already wearing your new sweatshirt. “All of you are crazy. Every single on of her fans is insane.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse you.” You scoffed. “We’re not called fans, Dean. We’re swifties.” With an extra sway in your hips, you sauntered down the hall to the room Dean was so up-in-arms about. When you got to the door, you giggled and stood proudly before your work. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong? It looks great in here.”

Dean’s exasperation sputtered from his mouth as he searched for words to express just how ruffled his feathers were. “It’s - it’s - there’s - you deflowered the sanctity of my man cave!”

You tipped your head back with a cackle. “I what?”

“You ruined it!” Dean threw his arms out toward the walls.

Ruined it.

You scoffed. You thought you did a wonderful job of sticking to the theme. Across the room, in plain view as soon as you walked through the door, a shimmery red curtain served as the backdrop to a table. The table was covered with a Chiefs tablecloth, and on the tablecloth sat a red-mirrored disco-football. Beside the football was a charcuterie board - or boards, really. One shaped like the number eight and one shaped like the number seven. Cupcakes with gold flakes and tiny footballs stood on a tiered tower. An array of red drinks lined the lefthand side of the table - Shirley Temples, except they were sparkly too, thanks to the edible glitter you swirled into them. Hanging behind the table, strung across the shiny backdrop, you made and hung three rows of garland - garland designed to look like a friendship bracelet made from pony beads and white, lettered beads that read “IN MY,” next line, “SUPER BOWL,” last line, “ERA.” On the adjacent wall, there was another table, far less aesthetically pleasing, decked out with chips, salsa, guacamole, pretzels, dips, a crockpot full of meatballs beside a basket of rolls.

It looked fantastic.

“I don’t understand.” You walked in and twirled around, arms open. “This looks like the perfect way to celebrate the Swift Bowl.”

“WHAT?!” Dean’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

Another loud laugh escaped you as you clapped your hands together. “Dean, it’s just a football game.” You shook your head and stood beside him, both of you looking at, but with far different feelings about, the red glittery glow surrounding you. “I’ll take the decorations down tomorrow. I promise.”

Dean released a long, loud sigh and closed his eyes. “Fine, but I swear if I hear even one second of her music, I-”

“Aw, c’mon Dean.” Sam clapped Dean’s shoulder as he walked by, stepping into the man cave and dipping a chip in salsa. “You gotta just,” Sam’s face twisted as he tried to conceal a wide grin, “shake it off.”

Forever Tags: @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @caswinchester2000 @chelseadanielle19 @countrygal17a @danathewitchywoman @deansgirl7695 @deanwanddamons @dena111923 @elizzysnow13 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie1876 @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @heartsaved @hillface89 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @in-deans-arms @ladylachesis @lilredniki @linki-locks11 @mottergirl99 @mrswhozeewhatsis @notyourtypicalrose @plaid-lover-bay25 @riversong-sam @sandlee44 @sea040561 @shaelyn102 @smoothdogsgirl @soulmates8 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @superromijn @tumblr-tidbits @vicmc624 @voltage-my2dlove @wayward-gypsy

Dean Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @cherrycokegirlsblog @clarewinchester @dean-winchesters-bacon @deanandsamsbitch @deansgirl215 @fandom-princess-forevermore @iamabeautifulperson18 @lessons-of-red @mereka18 @princessofthefandomrealm @shamelesslydean @torn-and-frayed @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #reader insert #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

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nia-jul · 4 months

Text

WET CIGARETTES

Gojo Satoru, your prettiest customer, insists on ordering the most insane drinks possible. As a barista, it’s your duty to fullfill them.

alternate!universe, fluff, happy ending

(This is a long one guys 🙈)

——————————————————————

You love your job. The truth is, the people who romanticise working at a coffee shop were exactly right. Yes, the hours can be long, and the occasional Karen can turn what should be a five-minute interaction into a half an hour one. And sometimes you go home with burns from a hot coffee pot, or spills on your favourite trousers. But you love every part of your job.

Except for Gojo Satoru.

Your most troublesome customer. You know he goes to your university, because you’ve seen him wearing a hoodie with its logo on it. You assume you both have different majors, because you don’t cross paths at all.

But he comes to the shop every day without fail. And he orders the most complicated, diabetes-inducing drinks known to man. He strolls up to the counter, blinking those bright blue eyes at you, with his perfect smile and his hair that looks so soft to touch and starts rattling off his order.

Okay, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Gojo is easy on the eyes, and it’s quite funny to see how far he’ll take it. You’re not exactly sure if he even consumes the stuff he buys. Maybe he’s trying to impress you. Maybe he’s trying to annoy you. You think he succeeds more with the second option, but it’s fine. You like the little challenge everyday.

Today, you’re wiping down the counter when you see him appear behind it and begin drumming his fingers against it.

“Hi, sugar.”

You look up, unamused. He’s wearing a black compression shirt that hugs his muscles and grey sweatpants. He’s probably come back from the gym, judging by the sweat that sticks some strands of his white hair to his forehead. He looks good. Whatever.

“Gojo. What monstrosity will it be today?”

He hums under his breath. He rests his cheek on his palm. His skin is so clear. For all the coffee he drinks, at least.

“I would like… A single shot, 4 pumps sugar free peppermint, nonfat, extra hot, no foam, light whip stirred grande white mocha.”

Your mouth gapes. “Gojo. What? That’s not- what even is that?”

He laughs, loud and boyish. The shop is quite empty, so, you can take your time to mock his ridiculous request.

“I don’t know. Thought I’d try something different, you know?”

“You try something different everyday. I think this one wins the stupidest order yet.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know you like it. I bring some joy to the darkness that is your shift.” He pouts and leans forward.

You rolls your eyes. You turn and grab a cup to begin concocting his drink.

“Don’t call me that. And it doesn’t bring me joy. It does test my memory, though,” you pause, “How many pumps of peppermint was it?”

“Four. And what’s wrong with sweetheart?”

“I’m not your sweetheart, Gojo.”

He groans. He watches as you flit around behind the counter, going to steam the milk for his drink.

“Come on, what else am I supposed to call you? I don’t know your name.”

You point to the name tag pinned to your shirt.

“Yes you do.”

“That’s not your name.”

You nod and insist that it is. His eyebrows raise and he nods towards it.

“Your name is Brian?”

“Cute, right? I don’t like strangers using my real name, so they let me print a fake one.” You smile.

“It’s a shame, really. Brian suits you.” You stick your tongue out and Gojo grins.

The drink doesn’t take long. You make one of the fancy milk designs on the top, and slide it over to him.

“Here you go.”

He thanks you. He peers at the design at the top, eyeing the drink.

“I like this. You should learn how to draw my face on there.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right, that does sound like a great way to pass my time.” You nod sarcastically.

He sips the drink carefully. His nose scrunches and he sticks his tongue out.

“Oh, that is not good. At all.”

You laugh. You reach over and grab the drink, taking a swig. Gojo protests, but you can tell his effforts to get it back are half-assed. You wince, the warm peppermint drink sliding down your throat.

“Yeah, gross. How did you even come up with this?”

He shrugs, “They just come to me.” He nods at the cup in your hand, “You know, we basically just kissed.”

You snort, “You can keep dreaming, Gojo.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in my dreams, baby. All the dirty ones.”

Oh, he’s feeling brave today. You turn to hide the flush that dusts your cheeks. You wipe down the steamer.

“Baby is gross.”

“Tell me your name then.”

You point at the name tag on your shirt. Gojo groans and runs a hand through his hair. You glance down at the ignored drink on the counter.

“Gojo, you haven’t even touched your drink.”

He shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s not like I can’t pay for it.”

You hum under your breath. Rich people.

The shop starts filling up, and your manager pops his head around the door to tell you to get a move on.

“Sorry, Gojo. You gotta get a move on.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave him off, sighing as he drops his drink in the trash.

——

The next day, Gojo walks in with someone else. A girl, short brown hair and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. Maybe she’s a girlfriend. Gojo seems awfully close to her, a smile gracing his lips as she says something to him.

You’re staring. You turn away quickly. It’s none of your business what he’s up to and you don’t care, anyway. Gojo could be married for all you care.

He bounds up to the front. Gojo has a way of taking up every space he’s in, and as he leans across the counter, he’s all you can see.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Hello. What can I do for you today?”

“Aw. No complaints. You like cutie?”

“Feels like something a 12 year old would call his discord girlfriend, but. Sure, let’s go with that.”

He laughs, but he straightens up quickly.

“Look, I’ve got no time for our cute banter today. I’ll have a Venti, triple-shot caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla, two pumps of hazelnut, one pump of caramel, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and extra whipped cream on top.”

“No time for banter, but time for all of that.”

“Oh, and a mocha.”

You smile. “Who’s that normal order for?”

He points at the girl he came in with, who’s gone outside to smoke her cigarette.

“Shoko. Luckily for you, she likes normal people drinks.”

You turn to start making their drinks. Today’s order is much tamer than usual. It actually sounds like it might taste nice, and it’s sugary enough to satiate his sweet tooth. You wonder if he’ll ask that girl to try it for him.

“So. You got any plans today?” You say.

“Mhm. My friend and I are going shopping. She asked me to keep her company, but I think she likes my credit card’s presence more than mine.”

“Makes sense. At least she gets something out of the card.”

“Ha ha ha. Come on, she gets mean when she’s impatient.”

You shake your head, waiting for the milk to steam. “It takes as long as it takes.”

“Okay, Carla.”

“Wrong.”

“Bridget?”

You tell him he’s wrong again and laugh at his whining. You finish his drink off with an alarming amount of whip cream, to his request, and place it and the mocha on the counter.

“Done in record time.” You wink.

He tries it, and perks up.

“I’m impressed. This one actually tastes nice.”

He slides it over to you, and you take a sip.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is nice.” You say, incredulously.

“Can I have a sip?”

You look to the left and Gojo’s ‘friend’ has appeared. She smells a little like cigarettes but she’s so breathtakingly pretty that you don’t think anyone‘s really worried about that. She takes a drink before Gojo can protest, and she winces.

“God, it’s so sweet. You’ll die an early death if you keep going on like this.”

“Well, good thing it’s not for you.” He grabs it and passes her the mocha.

The girl looks over at you and smiles.

“Hey. I’m Shoko. It’s nice to meet you. Gojo doesn’t shut up about you.”

You tilt your head at the boy, who is looking away from the two of you, and coo.

“Aw, how sweet!” You awe, pressing a hand to your heart.

“He calls you Barista girl. Says you make the best drinks.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t say best. I am the only one who will make his insane orders, though.”

“That’s true. He doesn’t even drink them half the time. Just throws them away the second he leaves. It’s like the only reason he comes here is so-“

“Okay! Okay, we’ve got to go.” Gojo claps his hands together, cutting off Shoko, and steering her away.

She grins, waving at you. She yells it was nice to meet you, and you say it back, much to Gojos dismay, and wonder what the real reason he comes here is.

——-

The next time Gojo comes in, he looks good. He’s wearing a black button up, the top few buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. There’s a silver chain around his neck, and his hair is done up in a way that looks effortless and prepared at the exact same time. He’s also holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, pink and white and perfect looking.

God. You move away before he notices you blatantly staring at him. It’s almost closing, and you’ve got ten minutes before you’re free to go. You should be annoyed at his presence. You and Choso, the guy you were working with tonight, had just cleaned up, and you know Gojo’s order would probably need every appliance in the building. Any other customer would be shunned away, a quick point at the clock.

But Gojo’s not any other customer. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Hey, Gojo.”

He smiles. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Your cheeks heat up. God, if only he wasn’t so attractive. It would be so much easier to act like you don’t care when he calls you all those things.

“You look nice. You going somewhere after this?”

“Mhm. I’m going on a date.”

You pause to where you’re emptying out the coffee pots. A date? He was seeing someone else after spending god knows how long flirting with you?

You shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never asked you out, and Gojo is attractive enough to be someone who doesn’t care about girls' feelings. You know you should’ve seen this coming. It probably was just a little fun he had everyday, joking around with the oblivious, head-over-heels barista who allowed him to act like a dick with his stupid coffee orders.

Whatever.

“That’s nice. What can I get for you? You need to hurry up though, because we’re closing soon.” Your voice is flat, and your hand rests on your hip.

“Uh. Just a coffee.”

You frown. “No obnoxious order today?”

“Nah. I’ve got places to be. And I need to be awake tonight, if you get my drift.” He winks and you scoff.

You turn and fill the coffee pot, a little more aggressively than normal. You unfortunately do get his drift. Before you can say anything in response, Choso comes out from the back.

Choso is cute. He looks intimidating, always monotoned and looking sleep-deprived, but he was a sweetheart. He always ties his hair into little buns, draws cute designs on top of the lattes, and always makes sure you don’t close alone. Plus, he looks good in an apron. You think you’d like him if it weren’t for an annoying blue-eyed boy and his stupid orders.

“You okay if I clock out?”

You turn to him and smile. “Yeah, I’ll lock up. You working tomorrow?”

Choso takes his apron off and drapes it over his shoulder. You turn to face him, effectively ignoring Gojo.

“Nope.”

“What? Choso, come on, I can’t work if you’re not there, it’s so boring!”

He laughs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. It make the muscles in his arms stand out, and wow. Does he work out? Probably.

“You’ll be fine without me.”

“I won’t.” You pout.

“Goodbye.” He walks away, nodding at Gojo, who looks just peachy waiting for his coffee.

“So who’s that?”

You turn back to face him. “Choso. He works here.”

“Yeah, I figured. You like him?”

“Yeah. He’s great. My favourite coworker.”

Gojo nods slowly. A weird sort of quiet settles over you two. A part of you wants to ask who’s he’s going on a date with, but you respect yourself too much for that.

“What time do you get off?” He speaks up.

You pause slightly. “Me?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “No, the other barista behind the counter. Yes, you.”

“Oh. I’m done in ten.”

“Okay, good. Our reservation is in half an hour, so we should make it.”

The coffee pot whirs to let you know it’s ready. Instead, you keep staring at Gojo, who’s looks all too serious for somebody speaking nonsense.

“What?”

“It’s a nice place, don’t worry. Thought I’d splurge, to impress you. These are for you, by the way.” He thrusts the flowers towards you.

“I- What? Gojo, what’s going on?” You laugh, a little hysterical, confused as to what the hell is happening.

He grins. He walks right over to the you, leaning over the counter, so you’re a couple inches away from each other.

“You really think I’d ask anybody else out? I’ve been asking for these stupid orders at for weeks now just to throw them out so I could talk to you, that wasn’t a hint?”

“Yeah, but I just. I don’t know, I thought you were just messing around!”

“Are you really that clueless?”

“Hey! You-“ You stop for a second.

You take the apron from around your neck and throw it behind you into the office. You cross your arms and you nearly laugh at the nervous look that crosses his face.

“Did you make a reservation and dress yourself up for a date you didn’t even ask me to?”

Gojo scratches the back of his head. “I-“

“And then come in here and just tell me when it’s happening, without even giving me time to prepare myself?”

“I- Barista girl, I can explain.” He clasps his hands together.

“And you still don’t even know my name.”

He sighs. “The mystery is part of the fun, babe.”

You smile slightly. You have no idea what went through his head, but it’s cute he tried so hard. Even if it was a little weird.

“What if I had plans tonight, huh?”

Gojo shrugs. “I was hoping you’d cancel them for me.”

“And if I didn’t?”

“Not too sure. Maybe throw the coffee I’m still waiting for in your face?”

You perk up suddenly, remembering the pot that was still bubbling behind you. You take a cup and fill it for him, fit it with a lid and give it to him.

“So. Are you going to ask me out properly?”

He nods. His face is determined and he grabs the flowers from your hands. He takes two steps back and he walks forward.

“Barista girl, will you do me the honours of going on a date with me tonight?”

You frown, sighing dramatically, “I don’t know. I’ve had such a long shift. I’m tired.”

Gojo grabs your hands, pulling you towards him. The counter gets in the way, but you don’t think he cares. The two of you are still close enough that if you moved a couple inches forwards you’d be kissing. He smells like something expensive, and it overwhelms your senses. His lips quirk up in a little smirk, and you think your skin is buzzing where he’s touching you.

“I’m sure I can help wake you up, baby. You just gotta say yes.”

“I- I kinda look like shit, though.” You whisper.

“Don’t say that, you look beautiful.”

You know you don’t. Your hair is being held up poorly by a claw clip, random strands falling out of it. Your mascara is slightly smudged under your eyes, and there’s a lovely new coffee stain on the shirt you're wearing, courtesy of Choso knocking into you before you got a chance to put your apron on.

But he’s looking right at you like you’re the most incredible thing that he’s ever laid his eyes on that you feel like you might actually believe him.

“Okay. Okay, fine. If you let me go home and freshen up. Put a dress on, or something.”

“Oh, I can get behind that.”

You snort a laugh, stepping back. The nervousness from before is gone, and he’s grinning at you excitedly. He waits the few minutes it takes you to lock up, and holds his arm out for you to take while he walks you to his car.

It’s seven in the evening and the sun is just starting to set. The sky is beginning to turn, seeping from blue to orange to pink, and the light is catching off Gojos face. He’s speaking animatedly as he talks about the restaurant he’s taking you too, oblivious to your staring. He’s planned every last detail, somehow remembering when you said that you loved Asian food about a month ago.

You don’t really know much about Gojo. You do know enough to say that he is so sweet it makes your teeth rot.

You say your name, then, softly enough that he nearly misses it. He stops mid sentence and turns to you.

“Is that your name?”

You nod.

“You have a very pretty name.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

He nods slowly. “You can call me Satoru, by the way.”

“Okay, Satoru.” The name feels nice on your tongue.

He groans when you say it, hand reaching up to cup your face.

“God, it sounds so beautiful when you say it. It’d sound even better if you were screaming it, though.”

You roll your eyes, face a fiery red, and let a laughing Satoru lead you into his car.

——————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE

Gojo satoru the man that u r.. also that cosplayer is EXACTLY how I envision him in my brain.. so obsessed..

again, any requests r welcome! (I’m literally lost for ideas)

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #fluff #jjk fluff #oneshot

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wuxianxkexing · 3 months

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I love Mu Qing so much but I think his story arc would be way more interesting if he was canonically allosexual. Gay, bi, straight, doesn't really matter to me. I just think it would add even more complexity to his character. Like it's hard for a lot of monks and nuns to keep their vows during a normal human lifetime, Mu Qing's will power must be absolutely insane if he's 800+ years old, still experiencing sexual attraction and still choosing to uphold his vows. I don't know if he was just being catty when he called Xiao Ying ugly or if he felt the need to comment because he is attracted to women like that but my head canon is that he is at least bisexual. We know that both Mu Qing and Feng Xin act more freely in their disguises so I feel like he probably only made that comment because it's the only time he can actually admit to anyone that yeah, women can be pretty like that. Maybe not this particular one, but since Xiao Ying was the focus in this situation I feel like he probably would've complimented her instead if he actually thought she was really pretty. Like yeah Mu Qing is known for being a bit of a bitch, but even bitchy people are only bitchy about things that they at least somewhat care about.

I think another hint is Mu Qing's reaction in the women's bath house. Our boy hid his face in his hands and screamed. We know he isn't scared of women like Feng Xin is. He was obviously overwhelmed by some kind of emotion though. He was shown having a look around before he realized he shouldn't be doing that. Mu Qing canonically easily blushes because his skin is so pale, but he didn't blush in this scene. Which leads me to think he didn't scream out of embarrassment. He didn't have the typical pervert reaction to it, but he wasn't exactly chill about it either. He could've easily sneaked out without drawing attention to himself if he didn't scream, so why did he do that? I think he screamed, hid his face in his hands and started mentally reciting the ethics sutra. Xie Lian is funny because he started reciting the ethics sutra when Jian Lan tried to hit on him even though he definitely didn't need to. 😂 But because of that we know that is what they were taught to do when faced with "tempting" situations (Xie Lian was just still operating under the assumption that he was straight). So Mu Qing didn't blush out of embarrassment, he had a look around but not in the stereotypical pervert way, and then he screamed. I think the scream was probably induced by intrusive thoughts. Like he has been following the same cultivation path for 800 years, he obviously doesn't want to have thoughts like that, and since intrusive thoughts are by definition unwanted that is probably why he didn't blush and probably why he screamed.

Plus it would be a nice foil to Xie Lian who was able to uphold his vows seemingly without any trouble, minus the one time he was literally poisoned. I feel like Mu Qing's internal dialouge would be like "Oh she's pretty. Too bad my dick don't care. (It definitely cares)." I just think it would be interesting and probably kind of funny. Plus if it was canon it would add an extra hint to his true character if it was revealed earlier on in the books. It's really easy to assume that anyone who's a virgin for 800+ years is on the ace spectrum because most allo people just don't have it in them to be celibate that long.

#heaven officials blessing #tgcf #mu qing

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fostydosty · 2 months

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idk if anyone checks Read Riordan but I FOUND CLOVIS CONTENT there so here we go

CLOVIS

“Sleeping bag, eye mask, extra pillows, white noise machine . . . Yup, I think I’m all ready for the #tartaruschallenge. Maybe I’ll see my dad down there. Now I just need to find someone to go with me *yawn*. . . After a quick nap.”

also unrelated to Clovis but I found a really disgusting quote in the Cupid article that made me very uncomfortable

THE POWER OF LOVE

Cupid’s power is not to be underestimated. Just think of the dirt he got out of Nico di Angelo in The House of Hades. Nico’s confession that he has a crush on Percy is probably one of the most squee-inducing moments of the Heroes of Olympus series (even if Nico hated every second of it).

Calling Nico being gay 'dirt' like it's gossip, calling the entire scene 'squee-inducing' when it's literally the most depressing scene in the book? And acting like Nico was being silly and shy for hating BEING VIOLENTLY OUTED LIKE THAT???? also calling it the power of love is insane. Cupid is fully JUST a villain, and can't be anything more than that in the Riordanverse. I hated the Spotlight On Cupid article.

#clovis hoo #clovis pjo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo hoo toa tsats #pjo tsats #nico di angelo #hoo clovis #percy jackson

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sunderingstars · 6 hours

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☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ INTRODUCTION ⌝

sampo theory masterlist

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

— hello & welcome to my dark twisted mind (full of sampo theories)

— this is the first major analysis project i’ve taken on, so i’m very excited to lay out all the evidence i’ve found — i’m trying to keep it as open-ended & -minded as possible, even though i’m biased out of sheer interest towards the aha!sampo theory.

— i’m sure there are things in here that are common knowledge, but since i tracked down every single sampo reference and voice line (literally) on the wiki during an obsession-induced state for the better part of two months, i’m hoping there’s some information here that may be new or less-discussed as well!

— i’ll be uploading each sub-topic as a separate post (because i have a lot to say about so many things), but depending on your preferences you can always follow/block the ⌞ 🎭 ⌝ tag, which is going to be the tag i use for anything relating to this project.

— here’s a brief outline of the topics i’ll be covering:

visual cues + art (aha splash art, kit, body language & confidence, performance & performative emotion, eidolons, etc.)

vocal cues + voicelines (third person references, voicelines, worldview, self-awareness, gender, etc.)

scene analysis (intro scene, belobog, sampo & sparkle’s conversation, fourth wall breaking, mr. cold feet, dream bubbles, etc.)

specific topics (placement in the narrative, jokes & situational comedy, the astral express, etc.)

specific theories (“retirement,” playing the long game, risk vs. reward, man or muppet?, “committed to the bit,” aha is not exempt from The Rules, etc.)

emanator!sampo (vicarious emanator (“functional aha”), power scaling, etc.)

extra info on the masked fools as an organization, aeonic consciousness, and sampo character details outside of the aha!sampo theory

as well as counterarguments and a conclusion + anything i feel like adding along the way!

— the next few posts i’ll be uploading will be my masterlists (yes, plural, i am insane 😔💔) so i can get ahead of the curve, then it’s onto the real meat of things. this is a passion project for me, so i am very grateful for everyone’s support thus far (seriously, y'all are so sweet) !!

— as always, feel free to send me asks if you want elaboration on one thing or another, or just want to talk about your own thoughts/theories. hope you enjoy!

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#⌞ ༄ cosmic.wind: hsr ⌝#⌞ 🎭 ⌝#sampo #sampo koski #hsr theory #analysis #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #aha the elation #aha!sampo

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rainbowrelyea · 7 months

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Couple days late but this one kinda got out of hand haha. This is my first attempt at an AU! This was originally just meant to be a one-shot, but now I’m debating if I want to make it a multi-chapter. Maybe I'll even use a few more of the monthly prompts to keep the story going. Let me know what you think - do you want to see more of their story or not?

———————

Supercorptober Day 13: “Spice”

Read it on AO3

Lena’s stomach lets out a loud and insistent growl as she walks down the sidewalk away from the Chinese restaurant she’s just left, bag of takeout in hand. That’s what I get for skipping lunch, she thinks to herself. Remembering the crab rangoons she had added to her order at the last minute, she stops when she reaches the nearest bus stop, using the metal bench to set her bag on so she can pull out a few crispy bites of crab and cream cheese deliciousness. She knows they’re not exactly healthy and she probably shouldn’t be eating them, but today has been a very long day. Hell, it’s been a long week, so Lena deserves to indulge herself just a little.

Reaching into her bag, she’s surprised to find not one, but two orders of crab rangoons. That’s odd, I’m certain I only ordered one. Lena’s brow furrows in confusion as she checks her receipt, where sure enough, it only lists one order of the wontons. Too tired to overthink it though, she just shrugs her shoulders and assumes the restaurant must have simply made a mistake and accidentally given her extra. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of making up for this god-awful day. But as she starts to pull out her food, she catches a glimpse of the plastic to-go box at the bottom filled with what is decidedly not chicken and broccoli. She pulls it out to take a closer look and she immediately recognizes the dark red peppers and pungent aroma currently assaulting her nostrils. If her memory is correct, the offensive dish before her is none other than szechuan chicken, a ridiculously spicy excuse for food that her friend Sam practically lived on at the end of her pregnancy with Ruby, claiming that its extra spiciness would help induce labor sooner. When Sam continued to voluntarily eat the dish well after giving birth, Lena simply had to accept the fact that her best friend had managed to burn all her taste buds off and couldn’t actually taste the atrocity she was so willing to consume.

Well fuck. This is very clearly someone else’s order. And the universe clearly has a sick sense of humor, Lena thinks to herself, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the sky as if it could understand her. With a frustrated sigh, Lena packs all the food back into the bag and grudgingly begins her trek back to the restaurant, her empty stomach grumbling in protest the entire way.

There is thankfully no one at the register when she arrives, so she carefully schools her features to hide her irritation, and approaches the counter with a practiced smile.

“Pardon me, but there seems to be a problem with my order. You see, there are two orders of crab rangoons here, and I only ordered one. And I was given what appears to be szechuan chicken, but I actually ordered -”

“Chicken and broccoli?” A woman who Lena didn’t see enter the restaurant behind her interrupts her mid sentence. Lena turns around to see who the voice belongs to, but what she is not expecting is to suddenly find herself face to face with an insanely attractive woman. She’s a full head taller than Lena with broad shoulders and an athletic build - not overly muscular but toned enough for the sleeves of her navy button-down to be tight around her biceps, and for Lena to be able to see the definition of her calf muscles under her skinny jeans. Soft golden blonde curls are swept up in a ponytail, and behind a pair of black framed glasses are the bluest eyes Lena has ever seen.

Lena blames the combination of being both tired and hungry (it has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with how long she has been single), but she is suddenly struggling to form coherent sentences. Thankfully, she somehow manages to stutter out a reply. “Uh, um, oh yeah, I mean yes, that’s correct. How did you..?” She trails off, gesturing towards her bag of food on the counter and back towards the unfairly gorgeous stranger, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

The blonde holds up her own bag in response, beaming a blinding smile full of perfect white teeth, and good god if Lena thought this woman was beautiful before… There is absolutely no way she is possibly single, just look at her! Probably as straight as they come, too. Lena tries to reel her rampant thoughts in, after all this is just some random person she will never see again. She just needs to get her food and go home.

“Luckily I live close by, so I came back as soon as I saw my order was wrong,” the woman starts to explain. “Broccoli is the devil’s food - only thing worse is kale. There’s no way I’d intentionally order this for myself.” She scrunches her face up in disgust momentarily and then her scowl is replaced with another dazzling smile. “So yeah, looks like you got mine and I got yours. Here.” She hands her bag out to Lena to take, so Lena quickly gathers the other bag off the counter to complete the swap.

“Broccoli is the devil’s food, huh?” Lena raises an eyebrow in the blonde’s direction as she quickly checks inside the newly acquired bag to make sure everything is correct this time. “I could say the same about your preferred tastes - or lack thereof, since I don’t see how anyone with functioning taste buds could eat something that spicy.”

“Pshhh! This? Spicy? Please, this is barely a two on the spicy scale.” The woman quirks her own eyebrow in response, her lips curling into an impish grin.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those people who likes doing those ridiculous challenges, what’s the one everyone is doing now?” Lena moves her hand around in a vague gesture. “Oh right, the one chip challenge.” She finishes with a subtle, but not unnoticeable eyeroll, momentarily thinking about how Sam and this person of questionable taste would probably get along splendidly.

“Guilty as charged.” The blonde shrugs then tilts her head and levels a scrutinizing look towards Lena. “And let me guess, you’re one of those people who like to eat all super healthy and what not, like you probably keep a bunch of green stuff in your fridge.” She shudders slightly at the end of her sentence, and Lena isn’t sure if she should be amused by this woman’s childish distaste for vegetables, or if she should be offended with whatever deity lets her look like that on a diet seemingly devoid of healthy food.

“If by green stuff you mean vegetables, then yes, my fridge is usually well stocked with them - broccoli and kale included. I guess that makes me the devil then,” Lena teases with a smirk and a wink. Her stomach chooses that moment to let out a discontented grumble, suddenly reminding her that she is in fact, still very hungry, and still has to make the trek back to her apartment before she can eat. “On that note, I really should be going. Thanks for returning my food.”

“Of course, you too. It was nice to meet you - uh…?” The woman tilts her head with a quizzical expression on her face, clearly hoping for Lena to fill in the blank.

She acquiesces with a small smile. “Lena.”

“Lena. That’s a really nice name. I’m Kara by the way.” The blonde - Kara - sticks her free hand out in a handshake. Not wanting to be rude, Lena reaches out to return the handshake. Kara’s hand is warm in Lena’s, and her grip is firm but gentle. Lena tries not to think too hard about how nice it feels.

“Nice to meet you, Kara.” Lena nods her head politely and is about to walk out the door of the restaurant when Kara speaks up again.

“Oh, hey, uhh Lena? I know you said you needed to go, but I was thinking I might just grab a table here and eat, would you.. would you maybe want to join me?” Kara rocks on her heels as she speaks, then ducks her head to look at the floor. She reaches her hand up to scratch the side of her neck before looking back up at Lena with a shy smile. Then her eyes go wide for a second as another thought crosses her mind. “Unless you have someone waiting for you of course! I wouldn’t want to keep you from getting home to them.”

Lena can’t help but notice Kara’s sudden change in demeanor, the playful confidence from minutes ago gone, the blonde now being adorably awkward - though Lena is not entirely sure why. She eyes her curiously before answering, “No, I don’t have anyone waiting for me.” She glances warily between the door and Kara, debating her best course of action. Does she head home to her very empty, lonely apartment, or does she take a chance on a complete (albeit extremely attractive) stranger? Lena juts her chin out and raises an inquisitive brow. “I don’t know…Why would you want me to eat with you anyway? We hardly know each other.”

“Well I, uh, I was hoping we could change that.” Kara bites her lower lip and looks at Lena with those bright blue eyes so full of hope, and she is really struggling with a reason not to stay. Kara fiddles with her glasses a bit, pushing them further up on her nose even though they don’t actually seem to need adjusting. “And umm, also because I think you’re really pretty.”

Lena can see the tips of Kara’s ears turn bright red even as she herself feels the heat of her own cheeks turning a matching shade, and oh. She just asked me to eat with her and she thinks I’m pretty…ohhh. As the pieces click together in her mind, Lena feels a rush of giddiness - like she’s a teenager with a silly crush all over again - and she can barely suppress the ridiculous grin threatening to give away her emotions. Doing her best to keep her facial expressions relatively neutral, she cocks her head and taps a finger against her chin in mock consideration. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Kara’s eyes light up with excitement. “Sooo that’s a yes?”

“I suppose you’ve convinced me.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh, followed immediately by a wink and a coy smile. “Just keep that spicy monstrosity of yours to yourself.”

Her snarky comment elicits a scoff and a chuckle from the other woman. “Deal, as long as you keep your devil broccoli to yourself.”

Lena can’t help but laugh at her response, and a wide smile stretches across her face. And then Kara looks at her with a big goofy lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with delight, and not only is it the most adorable thing she has ever seen, it’s also the moment that Lena just knows she’s about to be smitten.

Sam is going to give her so much shit for this.

Definitely worth it.

#supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #lonely lena luthor #chinese food mix-up meet-cute #just a bunch of flirting #my first au #I'm not really sure what I'm doing

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you-aremy-sunshine · 1 year

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#5 - i hate your big dumb combat boots - b.b.

summary: you have met this man once in your life, at a bar after you passed out. and the second time you meet him it definitely is less pleasant. thankfully you never ever have to see him again. except now you are forced on a plane with him to the mediterranean because the tickets are non-refundable. fuck this.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.3k

a/n: oh my lord. guys i am so sorry. everything just like slipped my mind. anyways enjoy!! join my taglist!

you got up from the breakfast table, “i’m gonna go change,” you angled your head towards the door of the bedroom, “also, bucky i have some activities planned for today, so you should too.”

he nodded, picking up his plate and utensils.

four bikini options were laid out in front of you. what am i going to wear? subconsiously, you wanted to look good for bucky, or any other hot guy that happened to pass by you. but mostly bucky.

your options consisted of the floral bikini you wore last time, a lavender colored one, a sage green bralette bikini, and a light blue triangle bikini with a tropical flower.

you chose the lavender triangle bikini, it fit pretty similar to the floral one. you felt confident in how you looked, your hair still a bit messy from sleep. you slashed some tap water on it and ran your fingers through it. on top of your bathing suit you threw on a cute little linen white skirt and a flowy tank. a bit of your mid section showed, enough to induce looks but still look casual.

you quickly did a light bit of beach makeup, sprayed a bit of perfume, grabbed your beach towel and got out of the room.

“bucky, the room’s free,” you called out, preoccupied with vila, kaiya and sol’s texts.

“yeah, ok.” he replied, drying off the last of the dishes.

you packed a bag for the both of you. towels, sunscreen, water, snacks and extra clothes were what was shoved into an insanely small beach bag.

“bucky, i need an extra change of clothes for you,” you called out to the room, “we’re probably gonna get dirty.”

he grunted in reply, walking out of the door in a matter of minutes. he sported a fitted black tee with those short ass swim trunks. you know the ones that show off a guy’s whole leg. the shorts displayed his muscular thighs, along with a tattoo of a snake biting a butterfly. he threw a ratty gray-blue towel over his sholder.

how come you never noticed this tattoo?

now at this point it was becoming noticeable to him that you were inspecting him, maybe even checking him out.

“why are you looking at me like that,” he turned to face you.

“i don’t know, i just never noticed your tattoos.” you glance shifted from his eyes to a new tattoo you spotted. it kind of looked like a quote, “the snake one is pretty cool.”

his face lit up, “thanks, i recently got these yin and yang koi fish on my arm.” he showed the inside of his arm. the tattoo itself was a little bit swollen and red but you probably couldn’t tell from afar.

you only had two tattoos, one emily dickinson quote on the inside of your wrist, and the second a simple line art of flowers and leaves down your spine.

“i saw another one on your other arm, what does it say?” you asked, not trying to probe.

“oh yeah! it’s an emily dickinson quote, my sister rebecca loved her poetry.” he said, a gentle smile lifting his rough features.

“no fucking way, i have an emily dickinson quote too,” you said, a bit excited that he had something in common.

“what quote is it?” he asked.

“unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.” you recited, having the line already memorized.

“that one is one of my favorites, mine is ‘dying is a wild night and a new road’” he repeated off of his arm, “i forgot it was there for the longest time.” he said this with a bittersweet expression.

“i didn’t know that you had a sister,” you replied “yeah, i don’t know, i don’t usually talk about her a lot,” he said, his features fell gracefully, “she passed in a car accident a few years back.”

you rubbed the spot where your dickinson quote was, “i’m sorry,” you said, looking up at him. his moonstone eyes shifted uncomfortably.

“yeah she was the best,” he said softly, “but, anyways let’s get going. i don’t want to be late for whatever you have planned for us.”

he passed you his towel to put in the bag, then led the two of you out the door. you had ordered an Uber, so the driver was already waiting for you when you got to the street. it was a small car, so the two of you were kind of squshed together in the backseat.

many bumps and “sorry’s” later you arrived to kythnos. lyra helped you set this up as well as a few other tourist-y things to do for the rest of the week. you paid the driver before getting out.

you both stepped out of the car and admired the view. the mediterranean was breathtaking, especially here. it was clear, yet turquoise, practically begging for you to jump in.

“scuba diving! what do you think?” you turned to bucky, asking for his opinion.

“yes, this is amazing,” he said, his sunglasses already on, “thanks.”

you led bucky down to the shore where the instructor was about to start demonstrating how to put on the gear, etc.

let's pretend for this that you n buck have scuba licenses 🙏🙏

you took your shorts off and put on the gear. you set your clothes in the bag and placed it closer to land, so the bag would not get wet.

bucky put on his scuba gear too, and followed after you.

the boat was close to shore, tied to a pole farther to the entrance to the beach. you hopped in, bucky following after you. there were already a handful of people in the boat. three sisters, you assumed, were sitting next to each other, talking animatedly amongst them. one had light brown hair, another dark brown, and the other had pink and brown hair. you could tell they were speaking spanish. next to them were an older looking couple, the man had a salt and pepper beard and the lady had red hair with streaks of gray and white peeking through. they were talking too, but a bit more calm than the three sisters. the intructor from the shore started pushing the boat, and then hopped on. the boat engine started and the instructor began to tell the group about the islands, what fish there are, all things interesting.

you gazed out onto the water, the sky was a bit dull, but you checked the weather before and it said it was going to clear up.

the first stop to the diving trip was gorgeous, the water was turquoise and so clear. there were countless fish and sea animals.

the second stop was the same, but different fish, and the water went deeper, and the water was cooler.

the final stop was insane, there were statues almost but they were 50 ft underwater.

the tour ended around 3pm, the two of you eager to eat lunch.

you ate quickly at a street food place, and then walking back to the little bungalow.

“so…” you asked, “what did you think?”

“that was perfect in everyway,” he replied, “would relive again 10/10. but, now its my turn for a surprise trip.”

“oh god,” you sighed, “what does that mean…”

“not much, just a little dinner,” the two of you reached the door, “i found it online, and it seems like its perfect.”

“okay,” you had to put a little trust in him, after all he couldn’t be awful at planning.

hope u enjoyed! take a min to comment or reblog <3

#bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #ten things i hate about you #🍯; sol writes

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sophieinwonderland · 1 year

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I've been scrolling through your posts, and I just wanted to say;

You clearly know nothing about DID or any other mental illness for that matter. You do not know how systems work, I am assuming you are not a licensed psychologist. You have absolutely ZERO authority to be giving people advice on systems (etc...) .

You never supply anyone with actual information from secure and OFFICIAL organizations. Where are all of your opinions coming from? Where are the facts? Where has a doctor supported any of this?

Your actions have consequences, spreading misinformation about these things is ridiculously dangerous. Do you know how risky it is to tell someone not to see a doctor if they are hearing voices?

You don't affirm a schizos (or anyone's for that matter) delusions, that is just harmful as telling someone who is suicidal to kill themself.

I can't believe this blog is serious. I can't even take you seriously, actually. This is such a shitshow.

Another thing, Transracial, Transautism (etc...) Do not exist. Stop fetishing and obsessing over something you were not born to be.

This behavior is inappropriate and makes plenty of poc and disabled people uncomfortable.

I really hope most of you are teens figuring yourself out, you need to get your shit together. One day, you are going to get a wakeup call from someone who isn't as nice. And it's going to suck.

Please stop this disgusting behavior. I am honestly repulsed. I can only imagine what your parents think. This is fucking insane. You are insane.

Best of wishes xxx

I have never told anyone not to see a doctor if they feel like they need to. But I do reject the sanist belief that voice hearing is inherently pathological. What we do, tulpamancy, induces voice hearing in a non-pathological and beneficial way. This is the opinion of Dr Michael Lifshitz, a professor in psychiatry at McGill University with a PhD in neuroscience:

“If something doesn’t hurt, then it’s not pathological,” Lifshitz tells me on the phone. “Think about rumination. Maybe I think a lot, but it’s not depressive unless it’s making me depressed. Being disassociated — having the feeling of multiple agents living inside of you — in and of itself is not fundamentally pathological.”

“The thing that’s clear is that tulpamancy helps people,” Lifshitz continues. “Tulpamancy allows folks to feel more relaxed and better able to socialize. In fact, we’re interested in how we could use it for developing better treatments for those who do have DID or psychosis. Perhaps we can teach [patients] how to engage with voices or personalities in a way that might be useful [or] therapeutic.”

Similar viewpoints, that hearing voices isn't pathological, have been supported by many others such as Dr. Marius Romme, who founded the Hearing Voices Network. There was also a major interdisciplinary project called Hearing The Voice that explored pathological and non-pathological voice hearing alike. In fact, voice hearing is considered by a normal religious experience in many religions.

There actually aren't many informed researchers today who would say that all voice hearing is inherently mental illness. I have yet to see a single academic paper making any such argument.

My opinion that many intelligent voices in psychotic disorders are dissociative agents in the same way that alters are is largely based on this article from Dolores Mosquera, director of the Institute for the Study of Trauma.

And I want to draw extra attention to the last line, that strategies involving ignoring or getting rid of these voices can be harmful.

If there is a type of "delusion" I've affirmed, that's only the so-called "thought insertion delusion." (Though just so we're clear, affirming a delusion is nothing like telling someone to kill themselves.) This is because I take up the view of Dr. Matthew Ratcliffe (a professor at the University of York) and Dr. Sam Wilkinson, that thought insertion is likely the same type of phenomenon as auditory/verbal hallucinations.

In conjunction with the theory from Mosquera and Ross that certain intelligent voices heard in psychotic disorders are dissociated agents, I think it's reasonable to apply the same standard to thought insertion if these separate thoughts are personified and seemingly intelligent.

Would you like more sources or are you satisfied?

And I'm well aware that my actions have consequences. I hope that those consequences will be helping more existing plurals be able to accept their plurality.

I also hope that by introducing tulpamancy guides to more people, we can increase the number of plurals in the world and help normalize plurality little by little.

Finally, I'd like to ask that you consider revising your language. In addition to the obvious ableism of calling people insane, I don't think people with Schizophrenia and related disorders appreciate being called "schizos."

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unoisveimved-un-proffesional · 11 months

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24 skills, tutorial agent, ancient reptilian brain, & limbic system!

Right! I was tired and forgot there were 6 skills per stat, not 5.

But that would actually make it 28 if you get The Horrific Necktie to speak to you, and 29 if you count the other mysterious female voice that you’ll sometimes hear in Shiver’s moments. I think she’s called the voice of Revachol, La Revacholiere. And if you really want to stretch it, the generic non-skill narrator that reads things to you may make it 30. It’s a party in Harry’s Head.

And you know what? There’s evidence to suggest Harry could hear The Horrific Necktie pre-oblivion, putting it up on the ceiling fan as a drunken act of punishment to it, and also said “That bird’s been giving me shit since I got here.” After breaking the skua. So maybe he had a high Inland Empire, and just heard voices everywhere. Like with The Hanged Man and Insulindian Phasmid, but to the extreme. Also like with the mailbox moment. Harry’s probably both semi-psychic and schizophrenic, which is probably a terrifying combination of experiences to have, one that probably helped him out in his line of work more often than not, but definitely didn’t help his overall mental state, easily leading to a kind of overstimulation by being a little “Too” connected to his inner self and the outer world. His stats were maybe really high pre-oblivion, and that lead to his insanity and spiral.

I really like how as a detective game, all of these stats help in detecting things. Multiple play through’s have entirely different narrations depending on passive stat bonuses, and maybe pre-oblivion Harry just had all of them coming in. So connected, he became disco-nnected, and wanted to disco-nnect even further. Even after what is supposed to be total memory loss, feelings about things, towards things, opinions, and highly detailed facts about the world come through. How much did Harry know before his self inflicted total personal annihilation and alcohol induced brain damage? How much did he actually hear in the world, in everything. It must’ve been extra bad for someone like him, with the ruins, neon, radio, multitudes, and people, wired directly into the world and it’s strife and stuggle. Just pushed flat against it, totally, by everything. His extreme reaction to the world was because he was experiencing the world in an extreme way, one that he was mostly alone to deal with, probably running real low on morale at this point, which cost him most of his volition.

Wow I am sorry for making this so long and going off topic like that. Just got me really thinking.

#de #disco elysium #tequila sunset #raphael ambrosius costeau #hdb #harry dubois #harry du bois #harrier du bois #de skills #la revacholiere #horrific necktie #ask #ask answered #sydmarch #long post #hexacles.txt #pentacles talks

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intuitive-revelations · 5 months

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Hey! So watching through The Daleks in Colour now, and thought I'd note down my thoughts, as someone who very much likes advocating for and discussing the idea of colourisation, re-edits etc. Comments not in order, as I'll be popping back and forth between sections with my notes.

The colouring is pretty impressive. There's some tone choices I would have done differently, and I have spotted a couple places where its a bit off (eg. colour not aligning perfectly - see One speaking when they discover the environomental radiation for example, there's a bit of odd yellow colouring around his upper lip - maybe a side effect of the chromatic abberation?).

However overall I think stuff like the faces and hair were done extremely well, which is pretty impresive since that can often be the hardest thing to do. And while I do disagree with some of the environmental colours etc., they do capture the 60s adventure tv aesthetic fairly well. I would just probably have leaned a little more modern/cinematic personally. I do wonder how many of the colours used are taken from colour set photos, as that might explain some of the choices. On the other hand, they're clearly not strictly using those colours, as the TARDIS clearly differs in colour from the set as we've seen it behind the scenes and in AAiSaT.

The lighting was pretty well done too, as is some of the chromatic abberation, though like I said I think it does have some detrimental effects in some places.

Editing feels ok, and keeps the pace up quite well. It does lose some importance bits though. I would probably have gone for a longer runtime, maybe 90 mins, rather than the 75.

I think it could have done with an extra beat when Barbara gets lost within the city, as it makes the others reuniting and searching around feel a bit too quick. Also a little bit of an edit-induced plot hole with Susan remarking how "there WAS someone outsidfe last night" when we completely skipped over that scene. Cutting that scene out does make her seem a bit less 'hysterical' though, which isn't the worse edit-based change in characterisation. That being said, the way they didn't directly show the Doctor sabotaging the fluid link, but left just enough to imply it was pretty clever.

Oh! I realise one reason why they chose to use this story. There's a LOT of cuts they can get away with just by dubbing the Daleks and adding flashing lights. I haven't seen the original serial enough times to notice them all, but I did pick up on the slightly hasty one as they interrogate the Doctor. Interestingly it also sounds to me like they tried to edit/redub the line about "Dalek forefathers" to say "Kaled forefathers" as it sounds different to me from the original, but is quite ambiguous. The subtitles still say Dalek, so maybe I'm just hearing things.

Some of the cross-edits work quite well, but the flashbacks are way too much, especially with a shortened runtime. Feels like some of that time could definitely have been better used giving the pacing some room to breath. Not showing Susan writing the letter is kinda ok, but does make you question why the Daleks are continuing to keep them prisoner. You kind of have to rely on the Dalek giving the plan idea earlier, which kind of just results in breaking 'show don't tell'. Another edit I wouldn't have made: they cut out the cell camera being broken. This one feels kinda major imo, so it's a surprising choice. I definitely would have left it in. Using the Daleks monitoring recordings of the scenes with the Thals for quick cuts is kind of clever again, but does feel too much like a cut-down recap video. There really needs to be a bit more room to breath here. It also makes Ian encouraging the Thals to fight back feel a bit too sudden and his scheme kinda seems insane.

While I liked seeing the classic city reproduced in CGI for that opening shot, doing something so dynamic did feel a little gratuitous. CGI TARDIS shots as it tries to dematerialise were also an odd choice, as they were very blatant, looking more like animation than anything, and I imagine it could be done more convincingly. The zaps (and sound effect) as the Daleks fire is a very good addition though - exactly the sort of added effect that I reckon is justified, given it's quite simple but adds a lot.

As for the music, I think they did a pretty good job overall in keeping the correct tone while expanding on the score. I'm maybe not enough of an expert on the classic soundtracks to comment really. Maybe a tad overactive when the Daleks first appear - it could have quietened down a bit after they tell the Doctor, Ian and Susan to move. Oh my god, I just got to the bit where Dalek!Ian is leading them through the corridors. The music and editing is certainly... a choice. On one hand, it's very fun. On the other hand... wtf...? With Susan guiding them it kind of feels like all those 'memelord' Susan jokes come to life. The whiplash going into them having to leave Ian behind kinda breaks it though.

Speaking about the Ian and Thals scene again, the music is a bit too much. Again it kind of makes it sound like Ian's talk is serious, even though he's just trying to encourage the Thals to defend themselves. Hmm, yeah I think the music was pretty good in the first half, but it's definitely trying a bit too hard in the second. Actually, in general the second half does feel a bit weak compared to the first half, but I suppose that can also be said with regards to the original serial.

Sound effects were well done. Cloister bell sounding as the TARDIS tries to dematerialise is a fun addition. I do feel it's overused a bit nowadays, but it's placement here seems reasonable, if you assume continuing to try and dematerialise would have put the TARDIS in actual danger.

I might have sounded quite negative with some of my nitpicks, but overall I did really quite like this! It feels like a good proof of concept for further re-releases anyway, but there were some odd choices throughout. A less aggressive runtime edit would probably have done wonders for it. As I mentioned above, I do also feel the first half was a lot stronger than the second.

If I had the time (which I definitely don't right now, between work, my PhD/thesis, Class Ongoing, Galliversary contribution, and other secret exciting stuff), I'd love to go through and attempt a re-edit, colourising and sticking some of the shots/scenes I think ought to have been kept, and tweaking some of the colour choices. Maybe attempt a widescreen expansion too, since most of the colour work is already done.

#Doctor Who #Classic Who #The Daleks in Colour #The Daleks #First Doctor #Doctor Who 60th Anniversary #Doctor Who Regenerated #(kind of)

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skwigelfskwisgaar · 7 months

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I use Tarot as apart of my spiritual practice and for personal comfort :) i think the most brutal thing that's happened is like. actually speaking with dead relatives + deities coming through and this one time someone said i predicted a death but *i genuinely didnt*, you cant do that with tarot, but i got a card called "The Tower" in that reading that signifies something that's supposed to happen and feels traumatizing but you'll learn and grow from that experience and they informed me of what had happened in their life. everytime someone tells me im being spot on or the thing i predicted ACTUALLY happening is so so insane and fulfilling to me.

Do you have a favorite myth or God in Norse mythos?

!! I'd love to read your book, maybe you can read it to me sometime since I don't speak Swedish, unfortunately ^^' ATM I am reading through Odin: Ecstasy, Runes, and Norse Magic. It's in English but I'm trying to learn old Nordic pronunciations and words! I've also been looking into a few other resources my friends who are fellow Norse Pagans have sent me! I know Odin sees me as a newcomer that's still learning, so I'd love to take any information you might have if you're open to sharing it! ; w ;

OK Sorry this is like. so rambly ahaha. you're really easy to talk to!!

8 OF PENTACLES:

Pentacles is the earth suite, it brings forth light to matters within the more physical matters of the realm. You need to be grounded here. In order to make peace- you need to put in genuine hard work and effort- which can be hard. The shadows you face are big, and loom in over you and remaining calm in the face of that can prove to be a challenge, but it's not something you can't do! The guy here is at peace and diligent as he gets into the process of creating something great.

I think that this card gives you a good energy to begin the process of making that peace within yourself and is showcasing a good start to beginning that journey. Doing things that heal your inner child, like doing things you couldn't do or experience during that time- forgiving yourself for wrongdoings, accepting you can't change others, etc. Coming to terms with the cards you've been dealt in life and appreciating what's in front of you can help. Know you have the power within you to control yourself and make what you want to see, it's a matter of labor to build that reality up. Facing your demons is simply some work- which I'm sure you're used to since I know you're always working extra hard to pick up Toki's slack :3 (/joke /light hearted, he's a great guitarist!)

QUEEN OF WANDS; REVERSED

The Queen of Wands is a very determined, powerful lady who gets her shit done and is fiercely by your side! This energy is in it's reversal, meaning it's lessened or there's some sort of blockage here. You're *used* to this kind of energy from fans, and you're looking for something more genuine that's coming from yourself. This card is reminding you that it's in there, try to think of ways in which you genuinely feel validated through a less superficial lens. You might be able to find some peace within yourself through aiding other people, as well. There might be a lot of problems surrounding you and being able to be someone that can fix or ease it for those around you might help.

4 OF SWORDS; REVERSED

This card is usually about BIG NAPS, BABEY. You might be feeling isolated from others- I know sometimes people think you're a fertility God or something? You're on another level, and every now and then it's good to come down from that, and be by yourself for a little bit.

You might need some alone time to meditate and really get comfortable with yourself and the thoughts that come in through your head- whether they be positive, negative, anxiety inducing, or something stupid or ingenious.I think the energy here is reversed because it's something that's kind of hard for you at the moment? To just, sit with yourself. Sit with your thoughts, and either accept them or just give em a simple "huh that's weird." and move on if they're like, especially disturbing or something! thats where I think some of that work from the 8 of Pentacles comes into play- just accepting what comes into your mind during the silence of it all and going about your merry way after it.

anxiety can be something really hard to deal with, but the best course of action sometimes is to not act on anything in the moment and just breathe your way through it, and accept stuff for what they are and redirect yourself. Soul search so you can obtain some solid truths about yourself so you can know exactly who it is you are with certainty, (like. example! you're someone with a sarcastic set of humor.) and know how you'd react with certainty in any situations (hypothetical or otherwise) with confidence!

Push forward, no action is needed- you just need to take yourself to greater heights with this journey with some stillness and meditation.

OVERALL; I think yes- you are more than capable of finding peace with who you are and i think you'll get to that point! This just seems to be a description of how to get there as well as what might be in your way of that and how to get through it in order to obtain that peace. i hope this was ok! ;w; if you have any questions feel free to let me know!

ooc:

This was an amazing reading, and I took my time really reading through it. I will come back to this but this must be posted so that people can see how great and wonderful a job you did!

#skwisgaar rp blog #rp blog #skwigelf talks #asks #ooc:#tarot anon

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murdermeadow · 8 months

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Okay, here's something I'd REALLY love to hear. Thoughts on Joran!

OHHHH MY GOODNESS. OH THIS IS A GOOD ONE.

he is so perfect. well. obviously not perfect but, of course, he's an amazingly written character. his reveal as Consul J was INSANE, I never expected it (rewatching cutscenes and looking back with hindsight was one of the craziest things after finding out... he's literally been there the Whole Time but never said anything until he found the chance to).

I think his turn to villainy makes sense, seeing how he constantly felt sidelined, and just so very desperately wanted to mean something to the others. all his friends were phenomenal in their fields, and he was just... Joran. he felt like a constant burden on them, always weighing his friends down. he never felt like he could fly. so the fact that Moebius was able to manipulate him into becoming one of them makes complete sense and is honestly so fitting!!! they promised him that if he continued on in the endless now, then he could redeem himself and gain the strength to be just like the rest. he wouldn't have to be weak anymore. the fact they paired him up with Dirk is so fascinating to me as well. cuz like, Dirk's some homicidal absolute abomination of a person, and yet he was paired with this vengeful child. his wickedness allowed for Joran to only plummet further into those depths of despair and feelings of inferiority. with this stronger, more despicable man, he could be strong. Dirk could teach him how to "fly" (it's in quotation marks because it isn't true flight, it's a desperate mockup for a strength that can only be found from within.)

the dynamic between him and Lanz hurt me SO MUCH too. Lanz wants to care for and protect everyone all the time, especially Joran, but since he could never help himself and never realized his true worth, he ended up getting on Lanz's nerves. because he knows that Joran is worth so much more than what he says or believes, and it aggravates him to see his friend not realize that. their final scene together is so bittersweet. the fact he never got to apologize for the longest time was utterly heartbreaking too.

and speaking of that final scene... god, it was perfect. seeing him finally snap out of that Moebius induced mania was so incredibly refreshing, I was cheering in my seat as I watched. it took him so long to realize his worth, but he got there. he did it in the end, and sacrificed himself so that his friends that he cherishes so very deeply could continue along their path. the way they gave him, and the rest of the Keves crew closure was so incredibly beautiful. such an amazing sequence. also, the fact they tortured Dirk with it all the while was amazing (Eunie totally deserved the revenge).

overall, I think he's absolutely amazing. despite being a secondary character, he was incredibly influential and his ties to everything that happened were insane to think about after finishing his arc.

also, this one comes with an extra doodle too. awhile ago I was thinking about him, and wondered what it'd be like if he got the chance to properly grow up (and it made me a bit emotional tbh fjskdj), so I doodled up a design for his older self

I think he'd rock the longer hair..

#leechies rambles #xc3 #xc3 joran #ty for the asks as always!#leechies asks?!#that gets to be a tag now too

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kafkaguy · 3 months

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Ethan, I watched All Of Us Strangers yesterday and haven't recovered yet, I am in actual pain, it's an absolute achievement in filmmaking and I will have to take Frankie Goes To Hollywood off of my playlist due to the amount of extra pain it deals me now

ooouugghhh petra it was literally insanity inducing to the point of death im reading the script right now and it's making me lose it all over again im like that gif of the girl pacing around the room talking manically to herself. i listened to the soundtrack earlier and could hardly stomach frankie goes to hollywood it was making me feel so sick. for sure has become one of those movies that will stay with me forever and ever we are in the same boat

#petra 🪨#📬#aous

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hwauroras · 8 months

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THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제3장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, pinterest, pinterest

wc ≈2.6k. unedited, mild cursing. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san, artstudent!wooyoung and artstudent!rockstar!hongjoong). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - but this part expands more on wooyoung's journey as an artist. hongjoong jokes about wooyoung and the reader's friendship. hongjoong calls the reader "sweetheart" at the end. mentions of frozen yogurt - if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy free.

“hyung hyung hyung, look at this!”

seonghwa tilted his head at the man on the couch, gently placing down the food he just ordered on the counter.

“what’s up?”

san quickly pointed to the article on his phone screen, his eyes wide with excitement. this album was by far his best, as well as his most famous.

when the release date for san’s album was approaching, anticipation and excitement flooded social media. the album had been kept relatively under wraps, with only the album cover and a few teaser images being released to the public.

while san wasn’t famous by any means - at least, not compared to most of his label mates, the curious and breathtaking nature of the album art caused a lot of intrigue and speculation. and when it was released, it seemed like san blew up overnight, peaking pretty high up in the music charts.

seonghwa peered at the article, his eyebrow raising slightly as his eyes scanned the words.

“oh, damn. seriously? aurora wrote a review?”

“yeah! and now they want to interview me. can you believe that? i’ve been reading that for ages. this is it, hyung. i’ve peaked.”

“oh really? you didn’t think you peaked when you reached a million streams? or when you gained an extra ten thousand followers, and then some? or when someone stopped us on the street for your autog—”

"hey, hey, that's not what i meant and you know it!” san interjected, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "i know those are all massive milestones i never thought were possible for me - but getting an interview with aurora is something else. you know i’ve bought basically every edition since their exclusive interview with kim hongjoong.”

seonghwa grinned, picking up a cushion and playfully hitting san with it.

“and you know i’m just messing with you. i know this is a big deal for you, and i couldn’t be prouder. you poured everything into this, i’ve seen the tears and coffee and red bull induced texts of borderline insanity. i’ve known you for ages san, you’re a true artist - it's incredible to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve."

“oh hyung, you’re being modest now. i couldn’t have done this without you. i mean, have you seen all the speculation around what the meaning of the cover could be? that’s why it went viral. are you sure you don’t want your name out there too? it’s your work after all.”

seonghwa fell silent.

on one hand, the exposure would be great for his business - which was stable, but he was still relatively unknown.

but on the other, how could he possibly betray his muse like that? he didn’t care if they were just a figment of his very deep imagination. to him, they were real. the emotions were real. profiting off of them just felt…wrong.

with a shaky breath, he managed to mutter out a gentle “i’m sure, san.”

san’s eyes softened as he watched the older male shift awkwardly. though a subtle gesture, san knew this was when seonghwa probably felt the most vulnerable.

"hey, it's alright, i understand. i wouldn't want you to compromise how you feel for anything, not even for me. they deserve to remain cherished and protected."

seonghwa’s shoulders visibly relaxed, causing san to smile warmly.

“thank you, san. i’m sorry. i know i must sound ridiculous.”

“don’t be like that. you’re not being ridiculous. i respect your decision and i want you to be comfortable. now - could you please pass me a smoothie? i think i need to cool down after all that excitement. i mean, my heart is still racing.”

seonghwa chuckled and retrieved the smoothies he ordered, handing one over to the younger. as san took a sip, he leaned back on the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a contented sigh.

“you know hyung, you've always been my first and biggest supporter. none of this would’ve happened if you weren’t there. and even if your name isn't in the spotlight, your influence and your art are all over my music. it’s you who helped me find my voice, both literally and metaphorically."

seonghwa playfully nudged san, who let out a small laugh at the action.

“oh san. i see you’re still practicing your humility for the interview.”

“hey,” san replied with a dramatic shrug, a glint of mischief in his eye. “no harm in getting ready, right? gotta give them something deep and profound.”

seonghwa shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

“you’re a handful, you know that?”

“sure, but you love me anyway.”

“nah, your mom just dumped you in the sandbox i was in one day, and i’ve been stuck with you ever since.”

“oh yeah, the sandbox … that was one mean sandcastle, huh, hyung?”

“oh hell yeah, we were the real envy of the playground,” you couldn’t help but sarcastically remark as you peered at the picture in wooyoung’s hands.

wooyoung chuckled as he held up the old, slightly faded but intact photograph.

"you know it! that sandcastle was the talk of the playground for WEEKS."

the photo depicted a much younger version of the two of you - annoying little seven year old shits, as you had so eloquently worded it when wooyoung first presented the picture. you were both covered in sand and sporting proud expressions as you stood next to what was, admittedly, a creation very worthy of its praise - a giant mound of sand and some sticks. what really topped it off was the pretty pink shell you brought from home, after your moms took you both to the beach.

“you remember that shell, right?" wooyoung asked, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

you nodded, your own eyes glossing over with mischief.

“how could i forget, stupid? i was the one that found it, brought it to school and placed it ever so gently onto our masterpiece. i was a revolutionary. truly.”

"oh, for sure. and now you’re a top scoring art student. with such groundbreaking ideas like that, i’m not shocked.”

“well thank you, soon-to-be-industry-recognized photographer. seriously, what an amazing opportunity.”

you beamed at your best friend, your eyes and your heart filling with pride.

surprised by the sudden change of topic, wooyoung’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

“ah … thank you, y/n. i still can’t believe crescent wants me to be their photographer. i mean, i know it’s only for one edition, but … come on. this is choi san we’re talking about.”

“and i know you’ll do great. you were chosen for a reason, wooyoung. you don’t have any connections to the industry other than hongjoong, and you still got the job. that’s how you know that the reason is talent. pure, raw talent.”

"thanks, y/n. i’ll give it my all, just like that day in the sandbox."

you waved off his thanks with a flutter of your hand before reaching for his half-eaten frozen yogurt.

“that’s what friends are for, right? now, tell me more about this crescent gig, since you’ve been all vague about it lately. when’s the shoot? do you have any ideas for it yet? are you being paid like cha-ching or CHA-CHING? is it enough to buy froyo that’s better than this?”

wooyoung laughed at your rapid fire string of questions, shifting his position to face you more comfortably.

“let’s see … the shoot is in two weeks, yes i do, i’m being paid an undisclosed amount of money, and it may or may not be enough to buy froyo that’s better than that. but can i just say, i refuse to have you slander my choices. it’s the best flavor and you know it.”

“oh sweetie … i pity you for having such sad, tasteless tastebuds. but i can agree to disagree for the sake of my curiosity. what are your ideas?”

wooyoung took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to your questions, stars shining in his eyes.

"well, for the shoot, i’ve been thinking of capturing san in his most candid moments. you know, those unguarded seconds when he’s lost in his music. the writing, the recording, the best, the melody. passion, emotion and vulnerability - i believe that's what makes his music so powerful. and luckily, with his look and aesthetic, i’m sure i could capture it in a way that exudes the sophistication and elegance crescent scouted me for.”

you listened intently as wooyoung described his vision. it was clear that he had put a lot of thought into it, and you couldn't help but be impressed by the confidence and passion that poured out of him as he spoke.

"that sounds incredible, woo," you replied, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "i have no doubt that this will all turn out beautiful.”

“thanks, y/n-”

“i mean, san is such a fine man. he’d look good in any lighting, i bet. he probably doesn’t have bad taste in frozen yogurt either.”

wooyoung burst into laughter, your playful teasing and dismissal bringing back a familiar lightness to the conversation. he playfully nudged your shoulder, and you stuck your tongue out at him in response.

"you’re impossible, y/n. anyway, san’s very photogenic, so the shoot should be a breeze. and maybe, just maybe, i’ll consider trying a different flavor of frozen yogurt once we’re done - just so you can let it go.”

as you were about to respond to wooyoung’s comment (the audacity), a voice from behind you interrupted the conversation.

“alright, lovebirds? i thought i’d find you here.”

turning around in your chair, you observed the figure leaning against the doorframe.

hongjoong stared right back, the intensity of his heavily lined eyes almost piercing into your soul.

“no lovebirds here, hyung. just two best friends in a room.”

“oh yeah, sure,” hongjoong scoffed, his signature smirk creeping onto his face. “and let me guess, they might kiss?”

“no, we won’t.”

“boo, you’re no fun, wooyoung. alright, make way. i need to talk to you.”

the now bright red ponytailed man slinked over to the table, the chains on his flared pants making a jingling sound as he walked. he grabbed a chair and turned it around, plopping down onto it nonchalantly, using the back of the chair as an armrest for his distressed-sleeved arms.

“okay, that picture is so fucking cute, but- that’s besides the point. wooyoung. buddy. i’m gonna hit you with some bad news and then immediately replace it with good news. you ready?”

“lay it on me, hyung.”

“i spoke to the guys. and they’re not that interested in working with you to be honest. but you know who are? the hotshots over at lost island records.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened at hongjoong’s words, and a hand flew to your mouth. his curiosity piqued, your best friend leaned closer to the older man.

"lost island records? are you serious, hyung? how did you even manage to do that?”

“they have an email, dumbass. i just compiled some of the demos, and sent them in. they got back to me a couple of hours back, when i was working on a piece for the upcoming runway. i would’ve come earlier if i wasn’t being graded.”

“that’s … really huge. this is amazing, hyung! i’m at a loss for words, we’re going-��

“they only want you, wooyoung.”

wooyoung’s excitement shifted into a mix of confusion and surprise the moment the words left hongjoong’s lips. he blinked, processing the news, while you sat there, equally dumbfounded and trying to wrap your head around the very sudden and jarring turn of events.

lost island records, THE lost island records, a prestigious and famous music label known for its top-tier artists including choi san, was interested in art student jung wooyoung over up and coming artist kim hongjoong?

“w-wait, but … why only me, hyung? this doesn't make any sense. those are OUR demos. and YOU’RE the actual musician …”

“i don’t care for that label, to be honest. you’re a much better fit. so i just cut my parts out. they’re not our demos anymore, they’re yours.”

the classroom, which was empty except for the three of you and some easels, seemed to hang in suspense as hongjoong dropped this bombshell.

you watched the exchange, torn between excitement and concern for your best friend. hongjoong’s nonchalant, almost dismissive attitude toward the situation was baffling, and it took everything in you to not question him about it.

luckily, wooyoung finally found his voice again.

“hyung, i can’t do that. you did most of it, and i’m pretty clueless when it comes to music, compared to you. music is your life, i can't just leave you out of it.”

hongjoong offered a small smile, and lightly punched the younger on the arm.

“i’m almost offended you don’t seem to know that my dream isn't necessarily tied to a record label, wooyoung. it’s why i still do what i do and haven’t accepted any offers. trust me, i’ve had many. if i wanted that backing, i’d have it by now. i don’t care who hears it, i don’t care how many people hear it - as long as it resonates. i’m sure you’ll figure out how to-”

“i’m turning it down.”

wooyoung’s declaration hung heavy in the air and hongjoong, who had been so casual and nonchalant just mere moments ago, now stared at him with wide eyes - as if wooyoung were some kind of poltergeist.

"you’re turning it down?"

wooyoung nodded firmly, his expression determined and confident.

“yes. i’ve still got the photoshoot with crescent so it’s really no big deal. but if i’m making music, it’s with you. or with y/n, but like, that might not be the best idea unless i’m planning on making music that sounds like a dying whale.”

with your brain still buffering and in need of a full reset, you couldn’t think of a clever quip in time. so of course, you decided to settle for the only answer you were capable of mustering -

“fuck you.”

“aww, thank you! you’re an amazing friend too, y/n!”

the tension in the room seemed to completely evaporate as the banter between you returned, and hongjoong’s initial shock transformed back into his usual smirk as he leaned back in his chair, clearly very amused by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"wow, wooyoung," he added, "i am both shocked, and not at all. turning down an opportunity like this for the sake of loyalty. i knew you were the sappy one but i also thought you were supposed to be the rational one in this little friendship of ours.”

wooyoung, who was not the least bit bothered by the older’s jests, smiled warmly.

“oh don’t worry, i am. but, you know music is your passion, not mine. mine lies in photography, and i have an opportunity for that so not all is lost. i appreciate this, i really do, but i’d rather be true to myself, and create with the people who matter to me the most.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes dramatically, but there was an unmissable glint of respect and admiration in them.

“ugh, barf. you’re such a sentimental sap, wooyoung. it's kind of endearing. but … still gross.”

you couldn't help but laugh with them, relieved that the tension had all but disappeared. despite the unexpected turn of events, and despite how much you agreed with hongjoong, you were proud of your best friend for sticking to the morals you knew were very authentic and genuine.

shifting your focus to the pretty red haired man, you mirrored his expression and tapped his arm.

“hey, hongjoong. quick question.”

“go ahead, sweetheart.”

“what do you think of wooyoung’s frozen yogurt?”

“i swear y/n, if you don’t shut the damn hell up-”

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading, @joongs-moon

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