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#might do some almost recommendations later
forzalando · 2 months
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hi marissa! first, i hope you have a wonderful time with your family!!
second, could i request “i might have had a few shots” with max, where reader drunk calls him after a breakup? thank youu 🫶🏻🫶🏻
i feel like i took some creative liberties with this one! i wasn't sure if you meant reader and max breakup or reader calls max after breaking up with someone else - so i went with the latter and couldn't resist making them idiots in love😭. after writing the danny ric angst, i needed to heal my own heart lol i truly hope you love it, liyah! thank you for always being so kind, it was a pleasure to write for you! wc: 1.8k warnings: cursing (most likely), a little bit of angst, mentions of drinking/reader being drunk
Getting ahold of Max Verstappen was nearly impossible – his use of the custom “Do Not Disturb” function was impressive. He had custom settings for everything: a work setting, a setting for when he was streaming, a race day setting, but his most prized was his sleep setting.
Once local time hit 10pm, Max Verstappen was unreachable to everyone. Well, almost everyone. His family, Christian, and you were the only exceptions, which aggravated Daniel to no end. “I’m your best friend, too!”, he’d claimed. But it wasn’t the same.
Max wasn’t secretly in love with Daniel. He’d take your calls anytime, day or night.
It was nearing midnight – Jimmy and Sassy were sound asleep at the foot of his bed and he’d been watching some legal drama you recommended. He hated it, but for you he’d watch it forever and take notes just to have another thing to talk to you about.
At this point, the show had practically put him to sleep, but the loud chime of his phone and your contact picture lighting up the screen jolted him awake.
“Maxie?” You yelled into the speaker. “Maxieee, are you there?”
“I’m here, liefje,” he chuckled. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Th’girls made me go out,” you whined. “Said I needed to dance and drink the night away.”
“And did you?” Max teased - by the sound of your voice, it was obvious you had taken their advice.
You giggled and the sound made Max’s heart clench in his chest. “I might’ve had a few shots, but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. Can you keep a secret, Max?”
His heart clenched now for a different reason – he was the best at keeping secrets. He’d been in love with you for over a year and the only living souls who knew were his cats. And probably Danny, though he'd had the sense to never bring it up.
“For you, I would do anything,” Max declared. In your drunken state, you failed to recognize the full extent of the meaning behind his words.
“Perfect!” You hiccupped, stumbling slightly before your friend caught your arm.
It was silent for a moment – Max waited for you to say something else but only heard your breathing through the speaker. “Is everything ok? Why did you call?”
“Well, no. Wanna go home but everyone else wants to stay out. Can you come get me, Maxie? It’s cold outside.”
“Are you alone?” He asked frantically, jumping out of bed and throwing a sweatshirt on in record time. He shoved his feet into his shoes so quickly that his ankle rolled – his trainer would be pissed when it came time for tomorrow’s workout.
“No, Nat and Peter are outside with me. They’re good friends. But not as good as you!”
Max breathed a sigh of relief – grateful that your closest friend and her boyfriend were watching over you. Unfortunately, the relief didn’t keep his stomach from twisting at “good friend”.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes, ok?”
You shouted thank you gleefully and hung up – he could picture you jumping up and down in excitement, you’d probably fall over unless Nat and Peter were close enough to catch you.
Minutes later, he pulled up alongside the club and he’d barely made it out of his car before you were jumping into his arms.
“I knew I could count on you, Maxie.”
He gently put you in the passenger seat, buckling you in and grabbing a jacket from his backseat to drape over you. Once you were comfortable, content, and ready to go, he turned to your friends to thank them for waiting with you.
“Thanks for staying with her until I could get here.”
“No problem at all,” Nat smiled. “We all thought she deserved a night out after the week she’s had, but I think she’d rather just be with you.”
Max blushed, unintentionally ignoring that your friend had just let slip you’d had a terrible week and he’d had no idea. He thanked them once again, and slipped into his car to find you half asleep and cuddling his jacket.
He thought you’d be out like a light in moments and turned the radio down, content to sit in silence until he got to his place. He’d rather die than wake you up to find your keys when you looked so peaceful.
“Can I tell you another secret, Maxie?” You murmured, startling him when you broke the still silence in his car.
“Sure, Y/N.”
“Alec dumped me. And I’m not even sad about it.”
Your latest boyfriend – you’d been dating for a couple of months. Max wondered why you had called him instead of Alec, but he didn’t want to ask since he didn’t particularly like talking about your boyfriends, even if they were nice. As far as he could tell, Alec was one of the nice ones.
“I’m sorry. Is that why your friends wanted you to go out?”
“They thought I’d be devastated,” you said bewildered. “And I haven’t even cried! You know me, Maxie, I’m a crier. I had to pretend to be upset when I told them.”
Max laughed at that, looking at you as you laughed along with him. His dimple and shining eyes caused your heart to skip a beat, and your smile slowly disappeared.
Suddenly, you had a horrified look on your face. You knew why you hadn’t cried – it was because you didn’t really care that much about Alec. Sure, he was sweet, kind, and attractive, but something was missing. When he broke up with you, he was so gracious, telling you that he thought the world of you but that it would never work because you were clearly in love with someone else. You’d protested – told him the only constant male presence in your life was Max, your best friend. He’d just smiled at you and said “I know”, leaving you perplexed when he left the coffee shop you had met up at. Until now, you had no idea what he meant.
You turned away from Max, shocked at the revelation of your feelings, staring out the window until he got to his apartment.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” he explained when he saw your confused face. “Didn’t want to rifle through your bag for your keys or wake you up. The spare bedroom has fresh sheets anyway.”
You nodded, practically catapulting yourself out of the car and into his building. The speed at which you trekked up to his place was impressive, especially in the shoes you’d chosen for the evening, and Max began to sweat. Had he done something wrong? Were you pissed he didn’t take you home?
When he unlocked his door, you ran straight to the guest bathroom and shut yourself in. Max was disoriented – you didn’t seem that drunk, and truthfully you were only ever quiet when you were asleep.
While you were in the bathroom, Max put a change of clothes and spare toiletries on your bed, slipping out when he heard the sink stop running.
You smiled when you saw the pile Max had left on your bed, suddenly feeling very ashamed for abruptly ignoring him. The TV was on in the living room and after changing, taking off your makeup, and brushing your teeth, you felt slightly more sober and a lot more guilty.
“Max?” you whispered, slinking into the living room to sit beside him on the couch. “Can I tell you one more secret?”
“Of course, you can always tell me anything.”
“Alec broke up with me because he thinks I’m in love with someone else.”
“Well, that’s crazy,” Max scoffs. “He must not want to tell you the real reason or didn’t have one so he made that up. I mean, what guys do you know that he’s even met? Peter? Another one of your friends’  boyfriends? You don’t even have that many close guy friends except me and - ”
Max cuts himself off, slowly turning to face you. He doesn’t think he’s breathing, blood rushing in his ears and a tightness starts to spread throughout his chest.
You have a sad smile on your face and your eyes are downcast, playing with the sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you.
“I don’t think I even realized until tonight,” you whispered. “Looking at you in the car, watching you laugh, how you were the only person I wanted to call and you dropped everything to come get me. It just kind of hit me – who Alec meant, why none of my relationships have ever worked out.”
Max scoots away from you, and suddenly it’s painful to breathe. There’s an ache in your chest that almost burns –  like someone’s waving a lighter back and forth over your heart, each time leaving the flame against you a little longer.
“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying. Please, please don’t do this.”
When you look at his face, see the panic that’s masking heartache, you realize that he’s not moving away from you because he doesn’t feel the same.
He’s moving away because he does, and for how long, you don’t know – but the flame licks higher and higher until the burning reaches your throat when you understand that he thinks you’re too far gone to understand your own feelings.
“Max, I’m not – ”
He cuts you off, reaching out to cup your face with his hand. “In the morning. If you wake up, and you still want to have this conversation, I will listen.”
You nod and stand up from the couch, leaving him sitting under the glow of the television. The apartment feels colder as you walk towards the guest room, and when you stop to look back at him, his head is in his hands and it terrifies you. Max was the one person in this world that you could never lose – it would shatter you.
Sleep never came to you – tossing and turning in the plush pillows that you picked out because Max wanted you as comfortable as possible in his space. When the sun came up, you crept out of bed and didn’t stop until you were in front of Max’s door. You knocked twice, rocking back on forth on the balls of your feet.
The door opened within seconds – Max’s tired eyes showed that he got about as much sleep as you did.
“It’s morning,” you whispered.
“It is.”
“It’s morning and I still love you.”
He smiled at you, so big and so bright, it rivaled the Mediterranean summer sun. You wanted this moment captured forever – painted perfectly in a portrait done by the most highly esteemed artist in the world.
You threw your arms around his neck, sacrificing seeing the beauty of him to feel him in your arms. His soft breaths tickled your skin, and your giggles made him squeeze you even tighter.
“You don’t know how many mornings I’ve spent waiting to hear you say that.”
“You’ll never have to live through another one again, Max.”
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sleepyconfusedpotato · 9 months
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⚔️ MWII (2022) Character Ages (as of 2022) ⚔️
I was on a character age brainrot back in January and now It's back because of @angelsarewatching so I'm gonna go ahead and post this on Tumblr. Tell me what you think tho and discussions are open!
🐑 Gen. Shepherd - Around late 50s, Pushing 64. I searched it up and apparently, the mandatory retirement age for all general officers is 62, in some cases 64. But if he got into the recommendation list after Brigadier General (O-7), it's allowed to be more than 62. He's a Lt. Gen, so that's O-9. Also, Glenn Morshower (Shepherd's actor) is 64 so let's go with that.
🧠 Laswell - 47-ish. At MOST 55. (Rya Khilstedt is 52. AMAZING BEAUTIFUL SHOW -STOPPING)
🚁 Nikolai - 45 as well. I would go with 48 though.
🪦 Graves - 40. He gives Texan cowboy energy. I just know he's an old dude and is actually older than the rest of the gang.
🛖 Alejandro and 🦂 Valeria - 37. Maybe 38. I don't know at what age someone could make the rank Colonel 'cause that's quite high up the ladder. (They might as well be older than Price. Shit, they might be 40.)
🚬 Price - 37 (Canon) c. 1985.
🐎Rudy - 36. He's been close with Alejandro for 20 years now. Assuming they're bestest of friends and knew each other even before military, Rudy would be around 36/37 as well.
💀 Ghost - 35 or lower. As far as I know, lieutenants are usually young, unless he enlists first before a few years later he went to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (RMAS). OR. His preference and efficiency of working alone are far better for use on the battlefield. The higher you are in the ranks, the more soldiers you are responsible for. So the higher-ups might purposefully don't promote him (and he prefers and agrees to it as well) so that he can continue working alone rather than leading a squad. He surely can lead a team, but he's better at doing shit alone. Crazy theory but hey, it's fiction.
🦿Alex - 35 (Alex was a Delta Force until 2013. Assuming he's around 26 when he finally goes to the CIA, that means he's around 32yo in 2019 and 35yo in 2022)'
🔭 Hadir - 33/34 (Canon) 1989/1990. I’m choosing 34 tho since in the ‘Hometown’ mission he was almost a teenager.
☀️ Farah - 30 (Canon) January 12th 1990.
🧢 Gaz - 26 (Canon). The bio says he enlisted in the British Army in 2014. Assuming Gaz finished high school first, he must’ve enlisted when he was 18yo. That means he was 23yo in MW19 and 26yo in MW22. 
🧼 Soap - 26 (Canon). He’s canonically the youngest one in Task Force 141. The bio mentioned that his cousin is in SAS and he often time visits the base. Setting aside the fact that the cousin brought a fucking kid to a top-secret base, lil’ Johnny must’ve been like “I DON’T WANNA GO TO SCHOOL I WANT TO BE AN SAS SOLDIER” and he canonically LIED about his age. Apparently, he went in when he was 16 but got caught several times, until finally when he was 18 he got in. 
--
That's it folks! Tell me what you think (。・∀・)ノ゙
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TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹
ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.
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pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader
summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…
warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!
word count. 5.3k
a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭
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Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films. 
Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down. 
Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since. 
The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job. 
You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before. 
As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”
Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“
“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face. 
Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air. 
“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”
He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow. 
My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?
After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left. 
Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again. 
You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films. 
In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”
Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”
“Her who?”
“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!” 
Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”
“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously. 
Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him. 
“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly. 
Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence. 
You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant. 
He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open. 
From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies. 
He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies. 
You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it. 
But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again. 
This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.
Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them. 
And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant. 
Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door. 
Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.
“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What  -- the hell are you doing here?” 
“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time. 
If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”
“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.
You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity. 
“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work. 
Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.” 
“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more. 
And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.
Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you. 
“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you. 
“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”
“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”
You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”
Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him. 
“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim. 
Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive. 
“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply. 
On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off. 
“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch. 
“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”
So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants. 
He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas. 
The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy. 
However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him. 
Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on. 
So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing. 
“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day. 
Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”
Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?” 
You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”
He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh. 
“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”
Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“
You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”
“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck. 
Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started— 
“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.” 
You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register. 
“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time. 
You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass. 
Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer. 
“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him. 
Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.
Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth. 
You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled. 
“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“
Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”
Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you. 
Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching. 
Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch. 
“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”
Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“ 
“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”
Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin. 
He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release. 
But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him. 
You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”
Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.” 
You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”
He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you. 
Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust. 
Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch. 
He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips. 
“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin. 
“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings. 
“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”
“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.
Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail. 
Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl. 
After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole. 
Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better. 
“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing. 
You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.” 
Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly. 
He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure. 
“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you. 
Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you. 
“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit. 
The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet. 
You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter. 
You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too. 
You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”
“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go. 
You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed. 
“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again. 
“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable. 
You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole. 
“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately. 
His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously. 
You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.
“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”
“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you. 
You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex. 
This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.
Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…” 
He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right. 
You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly. 
“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice. 
“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length. 
“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”
“I’m even better, baby.” 
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fredwkong · 3 months
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Dr. Li, Hypnotherapist
Austin couldn’t see any other solutions than booking a session with the hypnotherapist. He knew that he’d been moping for weeks, so when his friend finally snapped and told him to get some help, Austin had taken the referral and gotten on Dr. Li’s waiting list.
His thirtieth birthday a few years ago had been a bit of a wake-up call for Austin. Years of overwork and poor diet were slowly reversing as he took better care of his body, and for the first time, he felt proud of his looks. He knew he had a long way to go, but he was hoping to attain proper hunk status before he turned forty. He knew that he gave off the impression of being a clean-cut, intelligent guy with a pretty classic sense of style and, he hoped, a charming personality.
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And yet, well, that hadn’t been enough to save his relationship.
Thankfully, the referral from his friend fast-tracked Austin up the waiting list, and a week or so later he scheduled his first appointment with Dr. Li and showed up at the low-key office just outside the financial district.
Sitting in the waiting room, listening to the burble of the little rock fountain in the corner, Austin found himself suddenly overwhelmed with second thoughts. He didn’t have real problems, after all. He was just being a baby about the breakdown of a 4-year relationship. Surely someone else could use this time better than him. Plus, what if he couldn’t do it? What if the hypnotherapy didn’t work for him? Dr. Li’s reviews were fantastic, but everyone underreported their failed clients.
Just as Austin was about to stand up and leave, the door of Dr. Li’s office opened to let out a cute young man with a blissful smile on his face. The guy blinked owlishly at Austin for a moment, his eyelids fluttering slightly, then he licked his lips lasciviously and drifted out the door.
A smooth, resonant, eminently masculine voice came from inside the office. “Forgive Terry,” it said, “he prefers to remain in trance for a few hours after our sessions. Please come in, Austin.”
Nervously, Austin stepped through the door to find a well-built Chinese man in a suit lounging in a comfortable armchair. Across from him in the office sat a long couch. It looked perfect for lying down on. The man, Dr. Li, had a few grey streaks at his temples, but still filled out his suit like a much younger man might. As Austin came in, he stood up, putting aside a small notebook that he had been writing in.
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“Welcome to your first session, Austin,” said Dr. Li in that smooth, rich voice, giving him a firm handshake. “Please have a seat on the couch and make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to drink?”
Once the two of them were settled—Austin took a glass of water, while Dr. Li refilled a thermos of herbal tea—the hypnotherapist continued, “My job is to help you achieve your full potential and free your deepest desires. To do that, I will most likely put you into a trance to unlock your unconscious wishes and help your brain make important changes. But first, let’s just have a conversation. Tell me about yourself, Austin. What brought you into my office today?”
With cues from Dr. Li, delivered in his calm, almost musical voice, Austin found the story spilled out easily. His attempts at self-improvement had been dismissed by his boyfriend, then actively sabotaged as his boyfriend worried that Austin improving might cause him to move on. Finally, Austin had kicked him out, and then gone into a spiral of self-hatred that resulted in his friend recommending Dr. Li’s unique methods for achieving goals and moving past trauma.
As the conversation continued, Austin found that he spoke less and less as Dr. Li spoke more, voicing gentle encouragement and affirmations that seemed to resonate inside Austin’s head, crowding out distractions and thoughts. Austin’s eyelids fluttered as a tingling feeling washed over his body. He just felt…so relaxed. He should just listen to Dr. Li’s voice and sink deeper into this sensation. He should lie down on the couch. He should…
Sleep.
Wake up.
Austin’s eyes blinked open. He felt calm, refreshed, alert. He felt better than he had in a long time. I looked over at Dr. Li, struggling to keep his eyes from falling closed.
“Very good, Austin,” said the hypnotist, his voice causing a tingle of pleasure through Austin’s body. “You’re a natural at this.”
“I…am?” Austin’s voice came out fuzzy, surprising him. He felt so awake, but he couldn’t seem to think through anything. He just had to trust Dr. Li.
“Yes, you’re a very good subject.” Austin felt another tingle of pleasure. It felt good to be praised. “You told me some of your unconscious desires, and I think you have a lot of potential for us to unlock together. But to do that, we have to get you into an even deeper trance.”
Austin drifted for a moment before he felt the response bubble to the top of his mind. “Okay.”
“Very good.” Another twinge. “In that case, it’s time to sleep.”
“Fully awake now.”
Austin came awake with a deep breath. He lay in the feeling for a moment, savouring the deep calm in his body. Looking at his watch, he could see that over an hour had passed, but his memories past the first few minutes were hazy. He knew that Dr. Li had taken good care of him and should always be trusted.
“How do you feel, Austin?” Dr. Li asked, writing in his notebook. Austin thought he could see a dark spot in the crotch of the hypnotist’s slacks, as if he had been precumming while Austin was under, but Dr. Li was trustworthy and would tell him what he needed to know.
“I feel good.” There was just one thing bothering him: he couldn’t seem to get comfortable in his polo shirt. He fidgeted, pulling at it, but then he realised: it felt good to show off. He unbuttoned the neck buttons to reveal the top of his hairy pecs and immediately felt better. “What did we talk about?”
“It was a wide-ranging conversation,” Dr. Li replied. “Of course, you know I will tell you anything important that happens while you are in trance.”
Austin nodded.
“We discussed some of your unconscious desires, and I began to implement a few triggers to help you unlock your true self. Would you like me to explain them to you?”
Austin thought about it. It didn’t seem too important to spend a long time talking about the specific triggers, since Dr. Li was so trustworthy. “Nah, I kind of want to be surprised,” he said.
“I thought you might be.” Dr. Li smiled, looking up from his notebook. “One of your unconscious desires is to be externally controlled while you’re along for the ride. I think that hypnotherapy will be a very good fit for you.”
Austin couldn’t help but agree. It felt good to have someone else at the wheel. There was something about listening to Dr. Li’s gentle, deep voice that made Austin certain that Dr. Li had his best interests at heart.
After scheduling weekly sessions with Dr. Li, Austin left the office and started driving home. But on the way, he had the sudden thought that he should go to the gym. Usually, he preferred morning workouts, but he figured that an afternoon session couldn’t hurt. However, he hadn’t thought to pack gym clothes when he headed out of the house earlier.
While Austin pondered what to do about his lack of gym clothes, he pulled into the parking lot of his gym. As he engaged the parking brake, he turned to see a set of neatly folded gym clothes, and a new pair of runners, sitting in the passenger seat. The instant he looked at them, he suddenly remembered Dr. Li handing him the clothes while he was entranced. He had carried them out to the car and placed them neatly in the passenger seat without even realising what he was doing.
He felt his cock starting to harden in his boxers. Being unaware of his actions was hot. Going to the gym was probably something Dr. Li had told him to do, as well. Austin grabbed the clothes and jumped out of his car, pumped to get into the gym.
In the locker room, though, he felt momentarily confused. Usually, he wore knee-length shorts and a loose T-shirt in the gym, but the clothes Dr. Li had given him were a pair of short-shorts and a tight-fitting tank top that stretched over his thick torso. He felt a bit self-conscious looking in the mirror, but then he remembered it felt good to show off. The judgment of the skinny bros at the gym didn’t matter, because he was going to show off just for him.
The workout felt incredibly good. Austin was totally focussed on lifting while he was in the weight room. No other thoughts entered his head except for setting up his next workout and getting his form perfect. He even jumped on the elliptical, because good cardio is just as important as a good pump. After a couple of hours went by in a blur, Austin found himself walking out the gym’s front door, pumped, sweaty, and full of a pleasurable thrilled sensation.
Later that night, Austin was maintaining his Animal Crossing island when he was overcome with a need to email Dr. Li. Putting the game aside, Austin grabbed his phone and composed an email:
Doctor, I had a great workout today. I got a good baseline knowledge of my strength and endurance for my future sessions. Thank you very much for the new clothes, it felt good to show off my body in more revealing clothes. Austin
Sending the email, Austin watched the screen for a minute without moving until he heard the ping of an incoming email with Dr. Li’s reply:
Good boy.
Austin’s eyes rolled back as he felt a wave of pleasure through his whole body. It felt good to be praised.
For the next week, Austin went to the gym almost every day before work. Without his conscious control, his body implemented a push/pull/legs split, and after three days in the gym, he would find himself without the urge to work out for a day. Instead, he went shopping for new gym clothes because it felt good to show off and his old clothes just didn’t show off his body as much as he wanted. While he was out, he also bought a few new button-up shirts that he thought would show off his chest.
Each night, Austin emailed Dr. Li in the same thread and received a short reply from the hypnotist. Usually, it was some variation of “Good boy,” which made Austin feel wonderful because of how good it felt to be praised. Austin remarked in one email that he had gone out with friends and had two portions at dessert before going out to drink, which he felt badly about. Dr. Li replied, “Do you want to talk about cravings and portion control at our next session?” Austin thought about it, but he trusted Dr. Li to have his best interests at heart, so he replied, “Yes.”
Dr Li’s answer to that was, “Good boy.”
Finally, Austin’s next hypnotherapy session arrived. As he sat down on the couch, he could already feel the urge to fall into a trance again. It would be so easy to follow Dr. Li’s commands and sleep.
Wake up.
This time, Austin had no memory of time passing while he was entranced. He was lying on the couch again, and Dr. Li smiled at him as he sat up. “That was a very good session, Austin,” he said, his smooth voice strangely rough. “You fell into trance almost before you sat down.”
Austin nodded. “I was really excited to be hypnotised again, Doctor,” he said. The word “doctor” felt strange on his tongue for some reason. It was Dr. Li’s title, but Dr. Li deserved Austin’s complete respect at all times, and “doctor” just wasn’t enough.
Dr. Li smiled, seemingly at Austin’s discomfort, but that couldn’t be true, because Dr. Li had Austin’s best interests at heart. “You noticed some significant lifestyle changes last week, and you will probably continue to find things changing this week.”
“Yeah, I’m really excited,” Austin paused, feeling a word on the tip of his tongue, and then said, “Sir.” That felt right. When he called Dr. Li “Sir,” Austin felt that tingle of pleasure in his body, the knowledge that he had done something correctly.
Dr. Li’s smile widened. “Good boy,” he said in a low voice.
Austin shuddered. It felt good to be praised. “Thank you, Sir.”
In the waiting room, Austin nodded to another one of Dr. Li’s clients, a sullen young guy in a tracksuit who slouched into the hypnotherapist’s office. As they passed each other, Austin watched the guy’s face slacken, falling into trance before he passed the threshold of the office.
Austin went to the workout he felt the need to complete, but when he sat back down in his car, winded, sweaty and red-faced in his compression gear from a hard sprint at the end of his run, he still felt the need to run another errand. After a moment, the thought came to him: he had to go get his food prep at the grocery store. Feeling pleased that Dr. Li had responded to his concerns about his eating habits, Austin pulled out of the parking lot.
Usually, Austin had trouble resisting the allure of buying a fresh muffin or some other sweets while he was grocery shopping, but today the thought of sugary food repelled him. Instead, he found himself drawn to the spice aisle, where he grabbed soy sauce and a selection of various spices he’d never tried before. His mouth watered at the thought of all the vegetables and lean meat he’d be seasoning for his meal prep.
While meal prepping that night, Austin slowly came to the realisation that Dr. Li had apparently replaced Austin’s sweet tooth with a craving for intense spices. The aroma of his cooking had him choking slightly, but he was excited to get used to his new diet. And instead of craving a beer after dinner, Austin found himself sitting down on the couch with Pornhub loaded and an insistent erection in his new yoga pants. Getting off was the best way to get over his breakup, he thought, and started to browse.
While he was watching a video of a jock getting dropped into trance by the school psychologist, Austin realised that he needed to email Dr. Li. Still jacking off with one hand, he grabbed his phone off the coffee table and typed one-handed:
Sir, My workout went well. I hit a new deadlift PR. I’m going to measure myself tomorrow to update you on the size of my muscles. Grocery shopping and meal prep went very well, and I appreciate my new substitute cravings. Austin
When Dr. Li replied, “Very good, you’re making great progress,” Austin came hard. It felt so good to be praised.
Over the next months, Austin’s life continued to get better and better with Dr. Li’s help. Every time he slept and woke up, Austin felt like he was becoming more and more the person he was always meant to be. He was making great progress at the gym and improving his body composition, he loved to show off, and he felt more able to have fun with his friends than ever before.
One night, about a month into working with Dr. Li, Austin was feeling really good about his body. Almost his whole wardrobe had been replaced, his old gym clothes with shorter cuts and compression fabrics, and his work clothes with tailored pieces that hugged his growing body. Halfway through his evening jerk, all Austin could think about was how much he wanted people to see his sexy body. He ripped open his shirt and took a picture looking up his furry abs to his big pecs. He was so happy he’d decided to stop shaving.
He included it in his email to Dr. Li. His body was at least half the result of Dr. Li’s incredible hypnotherapy, so he figured the Doctor deserved to see the fruits of his labour.
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It was only when Dr. Li replied, “Are you thinking of posting that online? I think it might be a good idea,” that Austin realised just how much he wanted people to see his sexy body. He stayed up a little late to set up several accounts on different sites where he could show off.
A few days later, Austin’s ex messaged him, but Austin blocked him. Before starting with Dr. Li, he would have been overjoyed to hear from the guy again, but he was too good to be the property of just one man. Most days that he worked out, Austin brought home a guy from the gym to help him satisfy his need to get off. On off days, he might have a few friends over, especially the guy who had referred him to Dr. Li.
Sleep.
Wake up.
Austin was a bit surprised when he woke up in a moving car. He was really good at going into trance these days. When he went for his sessions with Dr. Li, he would go into trance while sitting in the waiting room and not wake up until halfway through his workout afterward.
He was sitting in the middle aisle of a minivan. In the seat beside him was his friend, Dr. Li’s other client, while in the back seat sat Terry, the cute twink from Austin’s first session, the sullen guy who had his sessions after Austin’s, and some huge bodybuilder guy in a stringer tank, probably another client.
Dr. Li turned around from his seat in the front. Beside him in the driver’s seat was a big, muscular man. “Good afternoon, boys,” he said, his smooth voice washing over all of them like a wave. “Thank you for agreeing to accompany me today.”
That was right, Austin thought. He would do whatever Dr. Li requested. It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember, Dr. Li wouldn’t have done anything without confirming that Austin wanted to do it.
The van pulled up and parked somewhere. Looking out the window, Austin could see they were in a different city. A few men walked past the van, all in various states of undress, most of them wearing some kind of gear. Austin knew that he wanted people to see his sexy body, because it felt good to show off, but he wasn’t really much of a gearhead. Why should he cover up his body with something like leather when he could just undress and show off his hairy muscles?
Dr. Li looked around at all of them. The driver, too, seemed to be in a light trance now that he had stopped driving. The hypnotist smiled at them. “Well, are you ready, kinky boys?”
Leather Boy Austin shook his head, his last thoughts slipping away. They couldn’t have been very important. Stepping out of the van, he pawed at his fitted shirt. It was soft linen, not nice, solid, warm leather, and he couldn’t stand the feel of it against his skin. He efficiently stripped out of it, nodding to Dr. Li when the doctor passed him his pink leather chaps. It was too bad that a leather boy like him couldn’t wear it all the time. He just didn’t feel right when his furry muscle bod wasn’t coated in sexy leather gear.
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As he sternly put on his gear, getting more and more into the leather boy mindset, Austin watched his rubber boy friend and the sullen sneaker boy get into their gear. The twinky pup boy Terry was yapping at the bodybuilder poser boy. Next to the van, Dr. Li was helping the husky pain boy put on his nipple clamps.
When they were all properly undressed, Leather Boy Austin helped Dr. Li herd the other kinky boys out into the street for the festival. The rest dispersed quickly, but Austin kept close to the hypnotist.
“I’m very glad to have you, Austin,” Dr. Li said, his voice once again resonating through Austin’s mind as they walked. “You were desperately in need of freedom from your own inhibitions when you first came to me. It took many sessions before you started to really blossom into the powerful young man I see before me.”
Leather Boy Austin puffed up his chest with pride at how good it felt to be praised. He was too stoic to respond effusively, but he grunted, “Thank you, Sir.”
“Oh, no need for formality between us now, Austin.” Dr. Li grabbed Austin by the elbow and jerked him around. Austin followed, because Dr. Li always knew what was best for Austin. “In fact, I think it’s time that I properly set you free.” The doctor grabbed Austin’s chin and roughly kissed him.
The kiss triggered all of Austin’s latent memories. He suddenly recalled all the hours of trance with Dr. Li, the careful programming of all his fitness habits, the thought patterns to make him show off and trust his hypnotist. He remembered how Dr. Li had installed the trigger to make him a kinky Leather Boy, but he could also knew that he could be triggered to be a flirty Dumb Boy, and a musky Ass Boy, whenever Dr. Li called him a flirty boy or a musky boy. He could taste the flavour of Dr. Li’s asshole on his tongue, from all the times that he had eaten him out while his triggers were implanted.
Most of all, he remembered loving every second of working with his hypnotist. Like Dr. Li had said at their first session, Austin wanted someone else to be in charge of him. It felt so good to be unknowingly under Dr. Li’s complete control, because he knew Dr. Li would take good care of him.
The sensation of his memories flooding back was so intensely erotic that Austin came into his leather chaps. He bucked into the kiss, tensing his muscles as his body was wracked with pleasure. Dr. Li held firmly onto his jerking body, and a few onlookers whooped and clapped. It felt so good to show off. Austin couldn’t believe that that thought had been implanted so deeply by the hypnotist in their very first session. The thought almost made him cum again.
Dr. Li pulled back from the kiss, and Austin felt two paths open in front of him. He remembered this session, too. These triggers were his own to think, just for himself. He could choose to remember all of the sessions, and he would remain lucid while under hypnosis in the future. He and Dr. Li would be equals from now on. On the other hand, he could lock all the memories away and go back to being unaware of the extent of Dr. Li’s influence over his mind, how the doctor could completely change his personality with a few words.
It was an easy decision.
Leather Boy Austin wasn’t sure how he had cum from a simple kiss from Dr. Li. He could recall that the kiss had been mind-blowing, but what he had been thinking about while they had kissed was hazy. Hopefully, the orgasm wouldn’t affect his performance at the orgy later.
“Thank you, Sir,” Leather Boy Austin grunted, smoothing his mussed hair back into place.
Dr. Li grinned at him in that slightly unsettling way of his. “You are a very good subject, Austin,” he murmured.
It felt good to be praised, Austin thought, shuddering with pleasure.
658 notes · View notes
munsons-melody · 9 months
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angeleyes
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summary: after seeing nancy get pulled into a trance, eddie gets worried the same might happen to you and makes you a tape with your favorite song on a loop, even though you're broken up
pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader
cw: bit of angst but ends with fluff
recommended songs: 'disillusion' and 'angeleyes' by ABBA
word count: 3.3k
a/n: did i start crying while writing this? yes, yes i did. also NOT PROOFREAD! also feedback is always appreciated :)
masterlist
part two of this fic called ‘your song’ can be found here
i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.
-
the two of you were together for almost a year. you were inseparable from the start but as months passed, you each kept getting busier and busier and whenever you were together, it would end in a giant screaming match with one of you crying while the other stormed off with no apologies in store till days later.
even though you knew the two of you were in a rough patch, you never expected the last fight to be your final one. you were at each others throats, a silly bicker turning into a full blown fight. you were both teary-eyed, throats sore from screaming and holding back tears, pacing all around the trailer. neither really knew what the fighting was about, but it didn't stop the screaming match that definitely caused the whole neighborhood to wake up from their peaceful slumbers
you still remember the exact moment you felt your world shatter. you stood in eddie's room, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you diverted your eyes from him to the floor, littered with his clothes and various items. you didn't want him to see you cry as hard as you were.
all you wanted was him to say anything like "i'm sorry" or "come here" and have him wrap you up in those strong arms of his, while he stroked your hair and told you he loved you and the two of you would be alright. but nothing of the sort came. the quietness deafening after the two of you stopped fighting.
"maybe we just aren't good for each other anymore," eddie muttered out, and you looked up at him with bloodshot eyes
"what? no! don't say that, please" you said, inching forward but he moved back to avoid your touch
"i think we should break up y/n" he said. it was like someone knocked all the oxygen out of your body as your heart started pounding
"eddie-" you tried but he shook his head, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks
"y/n, please, just go" he said with anger hidden in his voice, facing away from you
"fine" you said, your blood boiling. you stormed out of his trailer and walked out into the cold evening air, using your walk home as a way to cool down and soon enough your anger turned into more sadness
once you arrived home, you couldn't help but let the tears flow freely, feeling as if your heart was broken into a million tiny little pieces
"shit are you okay?" dustin asked you as you crumpled onto the couch, not caring that you would most likely have to explain why you were crying.
"no" you muttered out, curling into a ball and putting a pillow over your face. he walked over to you, sitting on the coffee table across from you
"did you break up?" he asked and you nodded, turning your head to smush your face into the pillow, letting your tears soak into the fabric of the pillow
"shit shit you're gonna be okay i promise" dustin said with a panic
.
eddie's trailer was in pure chaos as everyone ripped his room apart, looking for some tape that wasn't a heavy metal song to aid nancy in freeing herself from vecna's trance
"music! we need music!" robin screamed out as you watched as she flung a handful of cassettes onto eddies bed, Eddie swiftly picking one of the iron maiden tapes up and screamed at her "this is music!" 
right as you grabbed another box of tapes you heard steve yell "guys!" and all of you ran to the small living room, littered with debris surrounding the mattress that served as your 'landing pad'
you looked up to see steve holding nancy on the floor and you immediately thought the worst, your heart pounding as it skipped a beat, not prepared to see the potentiality of your best friend dead in steves arms 
"she's okay! we're going to come through!" steve's voice rang out, laced with urgency. everyone nodded as they cleared the area. you watched as the two of your friends individually climbed up the makeshift rope and fall through the gate onto eddie's mattress
you saw everyone, or at least assumed everyone, swarm nancy, asking question after question of "are you alright?" and "what happened"
nancy just stayed quiet, holding her arms to herself blinking away tears, and you broke away from the group to get her some water as she slowly sat down on the couch
you moved through the all too familiar kitchen of the munson trailer, wanting to reminisce about the memories you shared with eddie in this kitchen, but refusing to do so due to the fact you a) didn't want to waste time helping nancy and b) didn't want to relive the memories that would just break your heart even more
once you handed nancy the water, you let her be, not wanting to overwhelm her or pressure her into talking about what just happened. you went back into the kitchen, not wanting to be in any ones way, and stood there with your arms crossed
this time you allowed yourself to let those memories creep back in. the early mornings where you would make pancakes for you and eddie's breakfast, and what would be wayne's dinner when he came home before he would go to sleep. the times you would teach eddie how to cook when you felt like making dinner together. the late nights you spent listening to the radio and would dance under the refrigerator light. the times you two would spend after hours of endless sex where even when you tried to have a break from each other to get some water just to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. 
hell, you even smiled to yourself about the time eddie accidentally bruised his knuckles after enthusiastically waving his hands around while in conversation and smacking them on the cabinet, and you of course had to kiss them better.
you heard some shuffling and mumbling behind you and turned to the hallway just to make eye contact with eddie as you watched him drag dustin down the hall and into his room
you heard the door close and some muffled voices, but you couldn't make out the conversation 
-
eddie shut the door and turned to dustin who stood there, confused as ever as to why he was being dragged down the hall 
"what is y/n's favorite song?" he asked with urgency. dustin looked taken aback.
"excuse me?" dustin questioned, looking at eddie as if he had five heads
"your sister, y/n, what is her favorite song?" he repeated with a stern tone
"shouldn't you know?" dustin snapped with an annoyed look upon his face. even though eddie was one of his best friends and someone he looked up to, this breakup between his sister and him was so new and fresh, he didn't know how to act in this situation
"well it changes with her, like it changes all the time man... for a while it was killer queen by queen and then it changed to dreams by fleetwood mac then it changed to, i think, amoreena by elton john? ugh" he groaned
"eddie, why do you want to know? didn't you two break up like a couple of months ago?" dustin pointed out and eddie shook his head, rubbing his temple 
"it was a little over a month ago but-" eddie started before dustin interrupted him 
"and didn't you break up with her?" he questioned further, crossing his arms 
"well technically but i-" 
"'technically' my ass! you completely broke her heart and now you want to know her favorite song? why do you even care all of a sudden? you didn't seem to care when she would come home crying after seeing you at school all day. you didn't seem to care when she wanted to go to her favorite place in this goddamn town but didn’t cause she was scared she'd run into you there. you didn't seem to care when she spent all of her money to buy you those stupid concert tickets for your birthday..." dustin's voice trailed off from his originally loud tone
eddie looked down, a lump forming in his throat
"i didn't know any of that..." he admitted, moving his head up to look at dustin with glassy eyes 
"what?" dustin said and eddie nodded, sniffling 
"i didn't know she did any of that, especially those tickets" eddie said, his voice cracking which mirrored the cracks forming in his heart
eddie sat down on the bed putting his head in his hands, feeling completely and utterly stupid 
"i am the biggest fucking idiot for breaking up with her. it was just the heat of the moment with that stupid fight- and i can't even remember what it was about! i was just tired of the fighting! and now it's been a month but i haven't even talked to her until all of this shit went down but god i love her so goddamn much and i will be damned if something happens to her- if nancy can get under his trance at random who knows if she's next" eddie ranted, standing up and putting both his hands on dustins shoulders
"please dustin, what is her favorite song?" he pleaded. dustin looked at him with sympathic eyes and sighed 
"angeleyes" he muttered out and eddie stared at him with a confused look written across his face
"i think her favorite song right now is angeleyes by abba... i always hear her listening to it and singing it around the house..." dustin told him and eddie's eyes widened 
he ran to the door to open it but as he did he it revealed you standing there, with your arm and fist up in a knocking position 
"y/n" he breathed out and you looked into his eyes, the knots turning in your stomach reminding you of the heartbreak he succumbed you to and you blinked, looking past him at dustin standing there
"sorry, uh we're heading to max's next door, it's safer over there" you said bluntly before turning around and walking down the hallway, steve wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you headed toward the door 
eddie watched you leave and made a b line into the cabinet that sat adjacent to their kitchen, opening the door and starting to rummage through the boxes
"what are you doing? didn't you hear y/n?" he heard dustin ask as he approached behind him
"i know for a fact that we have that abba song on an album somewhere" he rumaged some more before pulling out a handful of tapes by ABBA
"my mom loved them so we had a lot of their tapes," eddie explained, walking back to his room and grabbing a blank tape 
he looked on the back of each tape till he saw the small words ‘angeleyes’ on the back of the voulez-vous album
he put both in his boombox, playing the song and pressing record so he was able to make a loop of the song 
"eddie we need to regroup with everyone next door" dustin pleaded and eddie shook his head
"we can meet them after we get a good loop of at least 10 minutes" he said before turning back to his dresser 
"we shouldn't risk being here longer than we already have, what if someone hears us or even sees us in here?" he pleaded again and eddie shook his head, being stubborn as a mule 
"fine, we'll be all over there where its safe and you can be over here with the fear of being caught" dustin said with annoyance, starting to leave eddie's room when eddie walked over and stopped him 
"just wait 5 more goddamn minutes" eddie told him with an angry tone 
"jesus christ okay" dustin responded with his voice higher than normal 
eddie heard the end of the song and quickly paused the two tapes, and rewinded before pressing the play and record buttons 
he sat on his bed, listening to the song and the lyrics hit him like a train 
'Sometimes when I'm lonely, I sit and think about him And it hurts to remember all the good times When I thought I could never live without him And I wonder, does it have to be the same Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? How can I forget that name?'
shit he thought to himself, continuing to listen to the lyrics of the song 
'Look into his angel eyes One look and you're hypnotized He took my heart and now I pay the price Look into his angel eyes You'll think you're in paradise Then one day you'll find out he wears a disguise Don't look too deep into those angel eyes'
once the song ended, he rewinded and played it again, internalizing each word he heard from the song 
he came to his senses that both of you were hurting just as much when it came to this break up and he felt guilt and resentment gnawing away at him
how in the world could i ever get her back? he questioned himself, feeling as lost as ever
he heard the song again a couple more times as it was recorded onto the blank tape, feeling like a piece of his heart was shattering with each note
he finally felt satisfied with the loop he had made, and quickly ejected the tapes from where they sat and slipped it into his walk man and shoved it into dustins bag along with a pair of headphones, and they carefully walked out of eddie's trailer and to max's trailer next door
-
you stood next to robin in the kitchen, the two of you hungrily snacking down a pb&j after finding your appetite now that you knew everyone was safe and was able to take a breather from the traumatizing experience you all shared 
"here's one for you and nance" robin said, handing the plates to steve and he smiled before turning to nancy who was in the living room 
"where's eddie and dustin?" max asked you, making a sandwich herself and you shrugged, gulping down some water 
"i'm not sure, i mean i told them we were coming here and that was almost 20 minutes ago" you said, wiping your face
"should we go check to make sure they're still over there and not getting sucked back into the upside down?" robin asked and you nodded
"yeah i'll go, you two finish eating" you said, putting your plate in the sink and walking out to the front door but you noticed the two of them running across the street from eddie's trailer to max's and you switftly moved from the door as they jumped in 
everyone stopped and stared at them since they were out of breath
"where were you guys?" lucas asked and dustin looked at eddie before looking at you and then back to lucas 
"uh sorry we had to reattach the caution tape to the front door so it didn't look suspicious" dustin said, and everyone seemed to buy the lie, nodding to each other as everyone convened in the living room
-
you sat in the stolen rv in the back, looking out the window at the birds playing in the trees. it was parked on the side of the store where there was room to fit it without taking up spaces in the main lot.
you heard dustin and lucas up front near the steering wheel in some conversation when you felt the seat dip next to you.
you turned your body to see eddie sitting there looking at you. 
"hey" he said softly
"hi" you said back, turning to face back to the window 
you hadn't really talked to him over the past few days, not knowing what to do or say since you hadn't spoken since your breakup
"y/n can i please talk to you?" he asked sweetly, and you looked at him again, seeing his eyes in a fixed stare
you just nodded, turning to face him completely
"the reason i was late coming from my trailer earlier wasn't because dustin was fixing the caution tape" eddie started, reaching for dustins bag which was by his feet. you blinked at him, muttering an "okay?" which came out with a more annoyed tone than you intended 
he pulled out a walkman from the bag, and popped the tape out 
"y/n... i don't know what the hell will happen next but i know for a fact if anything happened to you and we didn't have a way to save you i-" he said, wiping a few tears from his eyes
your brows furrowed as you looked at the tape and back at him, meeting each others gaze
"i made this, uh, it's like a 20 minute loop of angeleyes by abba... dustin said it was your favorite song... after seeing nancy be put in that trance just so vecna could talk to her really freaked me out, and i don't know if he'll somehow use you as a pawn in his game, so this is for you" eddie said, fiddling with the tape before replacing it back in the walkman and handing it to you
"oh eddie..." you said, rubbing your thumb over the piece of technology
eddie's heart fluttered as he heard you say his name
"listen, nothing will happen to me, i promise" you said, grabbing his hand in yours. the fact that he was in the shittiest situation to ever occur and he was still thinking about you just made your love for him grow strong, which in turn only fed into your heartbreak because he wasn't yours to love anymore, and he had made that very clear
"yeah but if anything does, i want to- no i need to tell you... i love you y/n henderson. you were the best thing to happen to me in this godforsaken town and the fact that i messed things up will be something i will always regret. i hate that i told you i wanted to break up. i didn't- i was just so sick and tired of always fighting. i've never had someone like you in my life and i thought you were going to break up with me so i went and pulled the trigger before you could. this past month has been pure agony for me, and dustin went and rubbed salt into the wound when he told me about those tickets you got for my birthday, and jesus- im just, im sorry and i love you" eddie told you, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand 
you cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him, craving his lips on yours. he kissed back before you pulled away to look at him
"eddie, i don't even know what to say" you muttered out and he shook his head 
"you don't need to say anything, i just needed to tell you how i felt just incase" he said and you took in a deep breath 
"i've hated you so much these past few weeks for what you did, but fucking hell i love you more than words can say eds. it was very stupid of you to assume i would break up with you just because we were going through a rough patch but, maybe when all of this is over and you learn not to be an idiot, maybe we could have a picnic by lovers lake, just me and you," you said softly, and eddie smiled 
"yeah?" he asked, his eyes lighting up 
"yeah, maybe i can even tell you about the concert tickets i spent all my money on... it was supposed to be a surprise but i guess dustin ruined that" you joked, and eddie chuckled 
"oh honey you didn't have to spend all your money on me, especially not on tickets," eddie said, brushing his fingers through your hair to push it back on your shoulder 
"but you deserve it, your birthday's coming up and ozzy osbourne was going on tour and i knew you wanted to see him" you shrugged with a small smile 
he kissed you passionately, and you melted into his touch, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and you didn't realize how badly you needed him till this very moment. it was soon interrupted however as the door to the RV swung open, and you pulled apart, watching everyone clamber in yelling that we needed to go
the engine of the RV roared to life as steve sped off the premises, leading you guys onto the next part of your adventure to killing vecna
fin.
1K notes · View notes
cherry-leclerc · 2 months
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olivia ☆ cs55
genre: angst - we do pick up from where we left off in lolita, so, dark themes are slightly mentioned
word count: 1.4k
cherry here!...in order to completely understand this blurb it is recommended to read lolita ! i pinky promise it will be better that way! enjoyyyy :)
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“What the fuck, what the fuck, I just…lots of blood…”
Ollie trembles as she brings a shaky hand onto her dry lips, while your father's skin loses color as he clutches onto his chest. 
And Carlos? Well, he hasn’t moved from his original spot. Dark blood puddles around him. He never knew he would witness so much human blood in his life. 
“This is all your fault.” Ollie pauses. Excuse me? The Spaniard nods as he keeps his attention on you. “What did you say to her?” 
“What the fuck are you insinuating?”
“Carlos, give me my daughter.” Your father might be confused - and wants to ask a million questions - but he also just lost a piece of his soul, so now was definitely not the time. Stumbling closer to his son-in-law, he lets out a wet exhale. “Give her to me.”
“No.”
If you could imagine, Carlos was almost stuck to you in some sort of way. He wishes he wouldn’t be selfish and let your father hold you, but his body just won’t let him. 
“What do you mean no?” The older man painfully winces as he looks down at his shoes that now drown in a pool of blood that scarily looked black.. “Carlos, I’m not going to repeat myself-”
“She’s fucking dead, what’s the point?” The two men look over at Ollie who regardless of having tears streaming down her face, she appears rather bored. “I mean it’s true isn’t it?”
This does it. Not a second later, your fathers comes crumbling down as he starts to sob. It’s hysterical and it almost hurts the newlyweds' ears, but who were they to judge? 
I just want to hold her, please. She’s my baby.
“I can’t,” the broken Spaniard whispers, meekly. Brushing his calloused fingers against your cold cheek, he shudders. “I just ca-”
The pair are so caught up in grieving that they don’t even notice when Ollie marches over to the 29 year old. Harshly, her left hand reaches down and tugs your limp body straight out of his arms before throwing you against your father. They both seem shocked at the brutal action. Your father stares wide at his firstborn and Carlos is fuming. 
Ricocheting onto his feet, he pins Ollie against the wall. The puffiness of her dress eases the blow. 
“She’s not some fucking ragdoll! What’s wrong with you?”
“He wanted to hold her and you weren’t letting him! What was I supposed to do?”
He’s not being himself and he knows it the moment he wraps his hand around her neck. If I just squeeze tight enough-
“Stop it! Both of you, enough!” Pulling the broad man away from Ollie, your father huffs tiredly. “My daughter just died… Have a heart.”
Sliding down against the wall, Carlos gasps for air as he cries. For you. For him. For everything in between. How was any of this real? 
“Look, I don’t know what was going on with the three of you, but quite frankly, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Days went by and no one said a thing. Ollie was growing tired; all her father and her husband would do is…cry. It was pathetic, but when people would express their devastation with the older sister, she would try her best to pretend. 
“How could I get over it? I just can’t.” 
The Spaniard's right eye would twitch at the sound of Ollie’s words, and yet, he still held her hand through it all. To the rest of the world, they seemed like a tight knit family helping each other mend their broken hearts. 
In reality, it was anything but that. 
“Which one of you wants to tell me what’s really happened the last few weeks?”
Putting their pride aside, that is exactly what they did. They told the complete truth. From Ollie and Ben to Carlos and you. Disappointed should be the main thing in your fathers agenda but he was simply heartbroken. 
“You’re supposed - you were supposed to be sisters. Take care of one another, where did it all go wrong?”
Eyes trained onto her lap, Ollie shakes her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. She stopped being my sister a long time ago.” Looking up, she can’t help the smile that slips onto her lips. “At least I’m trying now.”
“It’s too fucking late for that, isn’t it?” It’s almost as if long gone were Carlos’ warm, brown eyes and new were his completely black ones. Ollie would be petrified if it weren’t for his red eye bags from sleepless nights. Good. He deserved it. They both did. 
“At least I’m-”
“What did you do to her that night?”
Like a lighting slashing the darkest skies, your fathers attention turns to Ollie, who stares back with wide eyes. This again? I didn’t do anything. “Olivia, what is he talking about?”
Ollie winces at the use of her full name. Many find it pretty and she loved it, but you could never pronounce it when you were younger. Ollie stuck around. But still, it had been a while. 
“Nothing. Can’t you see that his stupid mistress just died?”
“Shut up! Shut up! Just shut up.” Standing up from his chair, the brunette runs desperate hands through his hair. “This is going to sound fucked up and the worse part is that I know it is, but it’s also true; I loved her. She was absolutely everything to me. Por Dios, a fucking nineteen year old was able to make me feel more in the span of a month than you’ve been able to for the past seven tortuous years.”
The office grows quiet, heavy pants being the only thing heard from Carlos. Pinching his nose, he continues. “You say you love me, but you don’t. Admit it. You only wanted to have the upper hand. To keep anything if it meant she couldn’t have it. You made up lame excuses to push her away. You. Ruined. Everything.”
“There he is.” Satisfaction registers Ollie’s appearance as she, too, stands up with hands on her hips. “You’re disgusting. No better than me. The fact that you viewed her as some saint is freakishly stupid. You’re blind. And maybe that’s why she deserved to die!”
Ollie, please don't say that, your father whispers as he releases fresh tears. Slowly, Carlos tilts his head to the side. Now she was truly petrified. 
“Olivia, did you kill your sister?”
His low echo could be heard once before she exploded. “You’re crazy! What gives you the right to assume things? Just because you’re hurting doesn’t me-”
“Then just say no. It’s that simple.”
Ollie purses her lips. “No. I did not.”
The Spaniard laughs. “Shit. Here’s the thing,” he steps closer to his shaking bride, “I don’t believe you.” She immediately opens her mouth before he raises his hand. “Nope. I don’t buy it.” He turns to your frozen father who stands with a gray looking face. “Do you?”
“Ollie…What did you do?”
Panic rises fast as she angrily shakes her head. “Stop it! It’s one thing to hate her and it’s another to commit murder. And if we’re pointing fingers here,” now she takes a step forward towards the fuming man, “What did you do to my sister?”
The Spaniard takes a clumsy step back, as if her words just slapped him across the face. “You’re batshit crazy. Completamente loca. Did you not just hear me? I loved your sister like no other.”
“And that could technically be true, but how far would you go for no one to find out?”
His breath hitches sharply. “Find out what?”
“That you and your paramour were expecting.”
And just like that, his world came crashing down once more. That’s not true, he can hear himself beg as he plops back down into his seat. Tell me that’s not true. Ollie narrows her eyes. 
“Stop pretending you knew nothing! We both had affairs, but at least I  had the decency to use protection. Unlike you two. I found the pregnancy test a few nights before the wedding. You had just told me about you and her, and I felt I had the right to know more. Sure enough, there it was.” Her eyes flicker to her father, who listens attentively. “My sister fell pregnant, you found out and you didn’t want anyone knowing you’re some kind of filthy cheater.”
“I didn’t hurt her-”
“I mean, none of us would expect it. That’s why it works. Because in this story, Olivia is the villain, right? Ollie hurts people and feels no remorse, correct? And the beautiful little flower never could. Carlos never could.” Bloodshot eyes stare back at the confused Spaniard. She was actually feeling something. “What the fuck did you do to my little sister, Carlos?”
He looks away. “I could never hurt someone I love.”
Ollie nods. “Despite what others might think, I could never hurt someone I hate.”
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kitscutie · 4 months
Text
snow and roses: part III (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)
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pairing: coriolanus snow x reader
warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!
summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.
a/n: part three is finally hereee! sorry it took so long i've been dealing with some shit and doing a lot of work as life's just gotten very busy but don't worry - nothing will be left undone and trust me when i say i already have the ending for this series planned out :)
im sorry to say guys but i will have to close my taglist as the size has began to affect my posts and tumblr keeps glitching out, sorry!
word count:2k
find parts one and two in my masterlist!
After the incident the previous day between Brandy and Arachne as well as the suggestions from Coriolanus taken on board, the mentors had been allowed one hour with their tributes to discuss tactics.
It was good yet bad all at once. You wanted to give Wovey advice, a fighting chance but yet you knew no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much help you gave her, she stood no chance compared to people like Reaper and even Lucy Gray.
She was small and innocent, young.
"In spite of yesterdays - tragic events, our president has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror, to which I and Doctor Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon - with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a specialised television presentation of each tribute to our audience to, well get to know them. You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin." Dean Casca Highbottom spoke into the echoey room, so large it was almost comical.
All of the tributes had been chained to the tables like animals and it made you sick to your stomach. You were aware they may harm you but at the same time such treatment would drive anyone to violence, it wasn't simply because they were District.
"Hi Y/N." Wovey smiled, so innocent. So naive.
"Wovey. I was thinking about how you might approach the games and I figured what might be best is to hide. You're small, an advantage that the other tributes don't have. I'm sure we can find some spaces this afternoon that might prove useful?" You suggested, not wishing to make this conversation more painful and personal than it had to be.
"Sure." She murmured, gaze positioned on the chains around her wrists.
"And if you wait until it's dark and everyone is sleeping you could go to the middle - collect whatever weapons they have left, just in case but otherwise I recommend waiting it out. If they can't find you they can't kill you." The sentence left a bitter taste in your mouth, you had never pictured yourself recommending a child to wait her death out in your life. The Capitol Academy was sold to you with visions of wealth and power, and now you has gone from student to mentor.
"I don't want to kill anyone." She frowned. She didn't even care that she could die, only fearing harming others. You felt your heart ache and yet, you could do nothing. No words would be good enough to reassure her, no actions would be able to save her. For once, you were useless.
"Wovey-" You began your sympathetic speech though Casca cut you off.
"Snow, Y/N. Let's go." He said as peacekeepers arrived to escort you to Doctor Gaul.
You rose without another word to Wovey, aware nothing you could say would be of any help at this time.
You knew it was about Coryo's proposal which you had not helped in and yet you weren't too upset about it. You didn't need the Plinth Prize nor did you need Doctor Gauls' approval and so you set out to let her know of your lack of involvement in this task.
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"How is your tribute?" Coriolanus asked after minutes of silence.
"Her name is Wovey and she's fine. A little frightened but aren't we all?" You said, you were hesitant to tell him too much of Wovey's weaknesses and you didn't know why. This was Coriolanus. Your best friend of over ten years and your boyfriend of a few months and yet, you had a feeling whatever you said would be used against you.
"I suppose." He answered. You supposed his tone was meant to come off charmingly but all you felt was unease.
"This proposal. I haven't done it." You let him know, it was the least you could do before facing the psychopath known as Head Gamemaker.
"We have. I handed it in this morning." He answered with a hint of pride. Impressed with himself that he had taken initiative, helped you.
"I thought I made it clear the other day that I wanted no part in this plan to profit off of peoples lives, Coriolanus." You muttered, increasingly angry with his dedication to the Games and what they stood for.
"Well if you want to help Wovey, I suggest you don't tell Doctor Gaul that." He smiled, holding the door to her office open for you in a feign attempt at being a gentlemen.
As you walked into her office you couldn't help but feel disgusted. It was littered with mutants, clearly created to kill, all sat in glass jars on shelf upon shelf. Stacked all the way up to the ceiling.
"Mr Snow, Miss L/N. Come and see my new babies." Gaul said as she appeared at the back of the room. Where she had been hidden, you had no clue.
You did as she said, never one to disobey your superiors, climbing the snake tank alongside her.
"Is there a point to their colour?" You asked curiously. The snakes were surprisingly beautiful, chromatic as they shifted around on top of one another.
"There's a point to everything Miss L/N. Or to nothing at all, which brings me neatly to your proposal. Which one of you actually wrote it." She asked, as if to catch you out but you felt no remorse in admitting it wasn't you.
"Coriolanus, Doctor." You answer, sensing Coriolanus' hesitation in baiting you out.
"Well, how shocking. I expected more of a conflict." She replied, as though she were annoyed by your honesty as she reached into the snake tank, pulling Coriolanus' proposal out. "They're good your suggestions. I'm going to recommend my team implement as many as possible for tomorrow. Now run along you have an arena to promote, and Miss L/N I must say - I am most disappointed by your lack of involvement in these brilliant ideas."
"Well thank you, Doctor Gaul for your offer but, I thought Mr Snow had it safely under his control." You smiled politely before you both left to 'promote' but more so survey the new arena. "Wait." You said stopping Coriolanus before you got into the truck. "I don't know what has become of you Coriolanus Snow, but I want the little boy who fought to provide for his family while also caring for others back. You are turning into one of them, and I'm not going to be there to watch the world burn beneath your feet." You spat, leaving him to think as you sat in silence for the rest of the journey.
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It seemed Coriolanus felt spiteful towards your words as he too ignored you up until this very moment as you walked into the arena.
You smiled reassuringly down at Wovey who looked just so scared. You were only three years older than her and yet you felt a motherly protection towards her, one you couldn't shake off.
Infront of you was Coryo and Lucy Gray. At first you pitied the girl, coming from twelve must be hard as they were food deprived and worked to the bone and yet now, as she stood holding your boyfriends hand in her beautiful rainbow dress, you loathed everything about her.
Your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could, your disgust clear to anyone looking but only one person was. Sejanus. He looked at you with pity and for once, you appreciated it. You decided he must know about you and Coriolanus and seeing as nobody else did they all whispered about him and Lucy Gray, how sweet they seemed.
You walked around alone before he appeared at your side.
"You deserve better, Y/N." Sejanus said, eyes never meeting your own as you continued to survey the arena, never even noticing his eyes stuck on his watch.
"Debatable." You chuckled, feeling a sense of self responsibility for getting with a man as dangerous as Coriolanus Snow in the first place.
"I wouldn't worry. If there's anything I've learnt about Coryo it's that he likes shiny things, new things - and she's definitely a spectacle." he chuckled to himself, it was safe to say Lucy Gray's ability to impress a crowd hadn't been missed by anyone.
"He'll grow tired eventually. I was his precious rose once." You sighed as the reality of the situation finally settled in.
You soaked in the silence for a few moments before you realised Sejanus' lack of response, turning in annoyance to see his eyes following the hand of his watch clock closely as he mouthed a countdown of the minutes.
"What are you-" You began.
"We've got to go." He said, grabbing your arm and beginning to walk towards the exit cautiously, not catching the attention of any guards.
"What do you mean? Sejanus?" You asked as he would not slow, not for anything. You looked around, seeing everyone else still stood stationary as they calmly conversed.
"Just follow me, Y/N." He said, still attempting to stay calm but you noticed his wide eyes.
You walked in silence, your heartbeat getting louder in your ear with each step until you hearing went completely silent, vision going black as both you and Sejanus were thrown to the floor in a cloud of smoke.
It took a few moments for you to be brought back to reality as you sat up, dazed hearing the yells of people around you. Once again before you could even figure out what was happening Sejanus' grabbed you, pulling you to your feet as you ran out of the door. 'Enjoy the show' now sounding muffled.
"What about Coryo?" You cried out in desperation, no matter what he put you through he was your first love and you had always pictured him to be your last.
"If we go back now, Y/N, we'll die." Sejanus replied as he continued dragging you until you reached the fresh air outside. Your charred lungs welcoming it.
As you looked back through the doorway you saw nothing, no one. Simply black smoke. You felt guilty and yet still - deep down - your heart yearned for the death of Lucy Gray.
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It had been five hours now, sat around Coriolanus' bed alongside Sejanus and Tigris.
He hadn't so much as twitched and it had your heart racing with panic, if he died, you knew a part of you died with him.
Tigris comforted you as best she could in her own worry, noting how his chest continued to move up and down steadily and that the doctor only mentioned an injured arm, not that he was at risk of death.
The appearance of bright blue eyes caught everyone's attention as you rushed to be by his bed.
"Coryo." You said, a large smile on your face. You watched as his eyes flickered around in confusion, landing on you for a few moments. You don't know what you expected, a look of love? What you most definitely didn't expect was one of disgust.
"Lucy Gray, is she-" He stated, looking to Tigris for an answer.
"She's alive." Tigris responded through gritted teeth as she looked to you with sympathetic eyes. Her reply was lost to you as the ringing in your ears after the explosion returned. Your heart beating loud in your chest. You placed a hand over it, feeling it pound against your palm.
Your eyes glazed over as you walked away into a secluded corner, waving Sejanus off as he attempted to follow you.
It felt now more than ever so official, so real without a doubt. You had lost Coriolanus Snow. He no longer loved you, cared for you or even worried for you.
The cage that was his heart had opened wide, setting you free and instead capturing something new and desirable. A songbird.
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l13 · 1 year
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♡simon 'ghost' riley♡
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i wrote this in ten minutes while having this song on repeat, definitely recommend listening to it it's so so good
cw : nsfw 18+, female reader, VERY LAZY WRITING! , swearing, he spanks you like one time, some sweat licking LMFAOO, not proofread
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“Fuckin’ hell….” Ghost pants on your temple, mouth open as he moans deeply ending in a gasp of your name. “You’re gonna be the fucking death o’ me, you know that?” A deliciously slow roll of your hips earns you a slap on the ass, his hand grabbing and squeezing the skin a moment later, hissing when your nails dig in his shoulder blades. 
“Sweetest fucking pussy, isn’t that right?” his mumbles were barely coherent, as if he was speaking to himself  “All mine.. all.. fucking.. mine.” this time he punctuates his words with thrusts of his own, leaving you with your mouth open in a silent scream. 
“So good, baby. You’re so good.” you’re a little surprised when your own voice reaches your ears, as if you weren’t aware that you were speaking until the words were out of your mouth. His hand grasps the locks at the base of your neck, tugging you closer to him as he sits up a bit, his other hand cupping your breast and squeezing tenderly before snaking down to rub tight little circles on your clit. 
He hums as you gush around his cock, “such a good fucking girl for me.. so fucking wet,” “Yes, yesyesyes Simon- fuck,” you notice your thighs shaking first, tremors running through the muscle and Ghost lets out the dirtiest fucking chuckle mixed with a groan of his own as he watches you come undone.  “Now that was nice wasn’t it, love?” you were in no place to reply to him, with your eyes rolled back and body jumping as he pinched your clit before placing multiple light slaps on it with the back of his fingers, while still very much pumping his hard cock inside your cunt with no promise to stop. 
“Gimme a kiss,” he whispers on your parted lips and your tongue darts out to greet his own, the moans and whimpers you couldn’t let out before from the pure bliss you felt were tumbling out of your lips and colliding with his, making all this even more erotic as he let out moans of his own, his thrusts turning impatient as he neared his own end. 
With the last strength you had in you, you gave his chest a rough shove and watched as he fell on his back, and with hooded eyes and that pretty fucking grin he adores, you plant your hands on his chest and start rolling your hips expertly. He grips your thighs almost immediately in a bruising manner, his brows furrowed beautifully, sweat running down the side of his face and you couldn’t stop yourself as you bent down to lick it up. 
“You- ah fuck.” he snarls and he almost loses himself right then and there, feeling your tongue on his temple, and then the most tender kiss he’s ever felt before he sees you arch your back and resume riding him with all your might.
“Darling I’m- fuck” you’re playing with him now, the roll of your hips much slower than before, but hard as you sink back down on him, and he’s this close to crying. “Yeah? Gonna come inside me, baby?” your voice was almost hypnotizing, and he locked his eyes on yours, “Fuck- yeah,” he only let out a hiss before he cupped your cheek and brought you down to him once more, licking into your lips and whimpering each time he raised his hips to push his cock juuust a little deeper, filling your pussy to the brim, feeling his come drip down his thighs. His eyes rolled back and his mouth watered at the image of your wet fucking pussy in his mind and he was this close to flipping you over and having his way with you again, only this time with his mouth.
And that’s exactly what he did.
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2022 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works. It's lazy writing but it's still my writing.
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nohaijiachi · 6 months
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I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE
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(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)
(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)
Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)
I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:
This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.
But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.
Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.
For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.
Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?
So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.
And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.
I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.
So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?
At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.
Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.
Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.
I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.
So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.
If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.
And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.
So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.
Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.
That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.
I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.
Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.
I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)
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britany1997 · 17 days
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Hey bestie
If the slot is still open can I have any form of Dwayne fluff. I’m back on my bullshit again and that bullshit is just the lost boys once more 🧡
Each Night Before You Go To Bed
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(I really don’t do song based fics, this song just gives the vibes of what I’ve written, enjoy)
Of course I can write you some Dwayne Fluff! Hope you love this!
Dwayne x GN Reader
Warnings: some mentions of future child raising (but intentionally “raising” instead of “having” so reader could be whatever sex)
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Dwayne’s arm hung around your shoulder, his finger laced loosely with yours. His thumb rubbed gently over your skin, a gesture so natural he barely realized he was even doing it anymore.
You spent every night together nowadays. Neither of you could stand being apart for very long. Dawn was agony, but you were thankful for every dusk that came with the promise of your lover gracing your doorstep. You’d never understood the “madly in love” cliche before Dwayne, but you got it now. Truly, madly, deeply.
As you walked along the boardwalk, intertwined, a thrift store caught your eye. You nudged your shoulder gently, prompting Dwayne to gaze down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Can we go in there?” You pointed with your free hand and Dwayne followed the path of your finger before nodding. “Sure baby.”
You smiled softly, tugging him along with you as you entered the store.
You’d been meaning to check out Artifact for ages on Marko’s recommendation, he’d always had great luck with the pieces here.
You squeezed Dwayne’s hand gently as you disentangled from his embrace, leaving him to browse as you flipped through the racks.
A couple minutes later, when you’d found some things to try out, you glanced around to check on your boyfriend.
Your eyes scanned the store, and once they settled on Dwayne, your face twisted in confusion. He was starring intently at something, you couldn’t quite see, on the shelves.
Curious, you crept around quietly to catch a glance of what he was so fixated on. When you peeked over his shoulder, your heart melted.
Dwayne had been starring at a pair of baby tennis shoes. He didn’t even notice you come to his side he was so lost in thought as he stared.
“Whatcha thinking about?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.
He tensed for a second, then blushed. Actually blushed. You’d never seen him do that before.
“Nothing baby, just uh…got a little distracted,” he smiled sheepishly before taking the clothes from your hands. “Did you want to try these on?” He’d brushed off the subject but you weren’t quite ready to move on.
You gave him a knowing look before reaching around to pick up the shoes. “Let’s get these too,” you suggested.
His eyes widened as his cheeks flushed again, “what would we do with them?”
You grinned, “I don’t know, I just thought we might need ‘em someday.”
The corners of Dwayne’s lips turned up into a bright smile, causing you to smile as well. How had you never noticed he had dimples before? For a tall, dark and handsome creature of the night, he was adorable. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flush for the third time that night.
He grabbed the shoes almost reverently, smiling to himself and wrapping his arm around you.
“C‘ mon baby, I wanna see how these look on you,” he gestured to the pieces you’d picked, still held in his other hand, as he led you towards the fitting rooms.
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After leaving the thrift store the two of you wandered to your favorite spot on the beach.
It was completely deserted, save the two of you. Just the way you liked it.
You leaned against his bare chest, his right arm snaked around your waist in a comforting embrace.
When he’d told you he was a vampire, back before you’d started dating, you’d thought he’d be freezing. No blood circulation and all that.
But every time he held you, you never felt more warm. You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, looking up at him fondly.
He smiled softly, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours.
“I love you you know?” he whispered.
You smiled brightly, “don’t get all soft on me because I’m gonna raise a kid with you one day.”
He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.
“I don’t love you because of that,” he started, “I’d love you no matter what you wanted.”
He moved his head to rest against yours, “I don’t love what you can do for me baby, I love you.” He sighed, his eyes closing blissfully, “I love you more than anything.”
Your eyes watered and you turned your head to kiss his cheek. “I love you just as much,” you assured him. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“I wish I couldn’t,” he mused, his brow furrowing “had to wait a long time for you to come around.” He nudged you, “good thing you were worth it.”
You giggled, “no more lonely nights for either of us hmm?”
He nuzzles your nose with his, “never again,” he kissed your cheek, “what a privilege it is to be yours.”
You could feel your entire face flush bright red. “What’s with you tonight Mr. Romantic?” you teased.
He laughed softly, your favorite sound. “Just happy,” he told you.
You moved to loop your arms around him, “me too.”
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Dawn was quick approaching as Dwayne dropped you off at your apartment. Your least favorite part of the night.
When the two of you reached the front door, his hands slid to your waist. He pulled your hips in gently as your hands snaked around his shoulders.
He leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You mewed into his mouth, one of your hands moving to tangle in his gorgeous hair.
You felt him smile against your lips as you stroked his hair. His hand moved up from your hip to your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his tongue slid into your mouth.
After awhile, you pulled away reluctantly. You wished you could keep going, but you’d hate to find yourself making out with a pile of ash.
You reached up to caress his cheek softly. He turned his head, his eyes closing as he kissed your hand.
“See you as soon as the sun goes down?” he asked.
You pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips, “and not a moment later.”
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Taglist❤️ (comment to be added):
@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @gothamslostboy @crustyboypix @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sad-ghost-of-garbage @anna1306 @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @arenpath @bitchyexpertprincess @lostboys1987girl @arbesa-mind @softchonk @f4iryfxies @walmart-cereal @rynsfandomsfun @katerinaval @fraudfrog @memphiscity69
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dduane · 8 days
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Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3
Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.
I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.
Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.
About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)
What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.
During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.
The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)
I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)
But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.
I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.
This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.
Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.
I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.
I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.
Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.
Here are links to some.
Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.
Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.
And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)
Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)
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ms-demeanor · 7 months
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Since some people might want a Mac, I'll offer a Mac equivalent of your laptop guide from the perspective of a Mac/Linux person.
Even the cheapest Macs cost more than Windows laptops, but part of that is Apple not making anything for the low end of the tech spectrum. There is no equivalent Mac to an Intel i3 with 4 gigabytes of RAM. This makes it a lot easier to find the laptop you need.
That said, it is possible to buy the wrong Mac for you, and the wrong Mac for you is the 13-inch MacBook Pro with the Touch Bar. Get literally anything else. If it has an M2 chip in it, it's the most recent model and will serve you well for several years. Any new MacBook Air is a good pick.
(You could wait for new Macs with M3, but I wouldn't bother. If you are reading these guides the M3 isn't going to do anything you need done that a M2 couldn't.)
Macs now have integrated storage and memory, so you should be aware that whatever internal storage and RAM you get, you'll be stuck with. But if you would be willing to get a 256 gig SSD in a Windows laptop, the Mac laptop with 256 gigs of storage will be just as good, and if you'd be willing to get 8 gigs of RAM in a Windows laptop the Mac will perform slightly better with the same amount of memory.
Buy a small external hard drive and hook it up so Time Machine can make daily backups of your laptop. Turn on iCloud Drive so your documents are available anywhere you can use a web browser. And get AppleCare because it will almost certainly be a waste of money but wooooooow will you be glad it's there if you need it.
I get that you are trying to help and I am not trying to be mean to you specifically, but people shouldn't buy apple computers. That's why I didn't provide specs for them. Apple is a company that is absolutely terrible to its customers and its customers deserve better than what apple is willing to offer.
Apple charges $800 to upgrade the onboard storage from a 256GB SSD to a 2TB SSD.
A 2TB SSD costs between $75-100.
I maintain that any company that would charge you more than half the cost of a new device to install a $100 part on day one is a company making the wrong computer for you.
The point of being willing to tolerate a 256GB SSD or 8GB RAM in a Windows laptop is that you're deferring some of the cost to save money at the time of purchase so that you can spend a little bit in three years instead of having to replace the entire computer. Because, you see, many people cannot afford to pay $1000 for a computer and need to buy a computer that costs $650 and will add $200 worth of hardware at a later date.
My minimum specs recommendations for a mac would be to configure one with the max possible RAM and SSD, look at the cost, and choose to go buy three i7 windows laptops with the same storage and RAM for less than the sticker price of the macs.
So let's say you want to get a 14" Macbook pro with the lowest-level processor. That's $2000. Now let's bump that from 16GB RAM and a 512GB SSD to 32GB and 2TB. That gets you to $3000. (The SSD is $200 less than on the lower model, and they'll let you put in an 8TB SSD for $1800 on this model; that's not available on the 13" because apple's product development team is entirely staffed by assholes who think you deserve a shitty computer if you can't afford to pay the cost of two 1991 Jeep Cherokee Laredos for a single laptop).
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For $3000 you can get 3 Lenovo Workstation laptops with i7 processors, 32GB RAM, and a 2TB SSD.
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And look, for just $200 more I could go up to 48GB RAM and get a 4TB SSD - it costs $600 to upgrade the 14" mac from a 2TB SSD to a 4TB SSD so you could still get three laptops with more ram and the same amount of storage for the cost of one macbook.
I get that some people need to use Final Cut and Logic Pro, but hoo boy they sure are charging you through the nose to use products that have become industry standard. The words "capture" and "monopoly" come to mind even though they don't quite apply here.
"Hostile" does, though, especially since Mac users end up locked into the ecosystem through software and cloud services and become uncertain how to leave it behind if they ever decide that a computer should cost less than a month's rent on a shitty studio apartment in LA.
There's a very good reason I didn't give mac advice and that's because my mac advice is "DON'T."
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babyleostuff · 8 months
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heyyy hope ur doing ok !! I’d really love to hear ur thoughts on how the svt members would teach u to drive (or the ones that can drive anyways!) lots of love xoxo
oh my god, this was SO much fun to write (and now i can't think about anything else but them driving)
seventeen teaching you how to drive | ot13
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CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 
𓆩♡𓆪 kind of like driving with your dad (or your dad trying to explain you maths) - at some point you end up crying. He wants to teach you, he really does, but in the end he gets too impatient, so he just yells and takes the steering wheel from you. 
YOON JEONGHAN 
𓆩♡𓆪 has a kind of “meh” attitude. He teaches you as best as he can, but whatever happens later, happens. Not his issue anymore. But he really tries his best, it’s not like he wants you or anyone else to get hurt. 
 HONG JOSHUA 
𓆩♡𓆪 very patient and gentle, but maybe too gentle. He doesn’t have the heart to scold you, so even if you speed past a “stop” sign and doesn’t stop, he doesn’t say anything. And every time you ask if you did good, he says yes (and cries a little bit inside). 
WEN JUNHUI 
𓆩♡𓆪 he tries his best, but teaching someone how to drive is very hard. You’d probably not even make it out of the parking lot, but you’d be a pro at parking the car. Would scream if you got too close to another car. 
KWON SOONYOUNG 
𓆩♡𓆪 a big no no to this guy. I adore him with my entire heart, but there is no way I would trust him to teach anyone how to drive. He doesn’t care about the speed limits, so there would be a 90% chance you’d get a speeding ticket on your first drive. Also, he’d tell you to turn left at the “no left turn” sign. The music would be blasting and he wouldn’t give a single fuck about anything. 
JEON WONWOO
𓆩♡𓆪 a very patient teacher, would recommend 10/10. Explains everything like a pro (is he an idol or a F1 driver). He would be kind of strict though, but just because he wants to properly teach you how to drive and not harm yourself and others in the process. 
LEE JIHOON
𓆩♡𓆪 sorry bae, not this time <3
XU MINGHAO 
𓆩♡𓆪 takes the job very seriously. Explains everything from the basics about the car itself, but for some reason forgets to teach you the signs. So anytime you ask about a sign, he panics and tells you to just drive faster. As long as you don’t crash into anyone, it’s all good. 
KIM MINGYU  
𓆩♡𓆪 alongside Wonwoo, the best teacher you could have ever asked for. We know that he taught Chan how to drive, so he would have no problem teaching you how to drive as well. I don’t think I can say anything more about him, except for that I wish he was my driving instructor (mine was more like Seungcheol, it was not live, laugh, love). 
LEE SEOKMIN 
𓆩♡𓆪 for some reason he makes you drive very slowly, so you’re more rolling down the street than driving. A kid literally passed you on their scooter. Also, he’d focus too much on the nice view and forget that you technically can’t drive (you almost hit an old lady on the zebra crossing).
BOO SEUNGKWAN 
𓆩♡𓆪 oh no. no. just no. It’s not that he is a bad teacher, he is just too scared. He doesn’t trust himself enough. He’d be clutching the grab handle above the door and his eyes would be closed at all times. He’d just tell you to drive forward and that would be it. 
CHWE VERNON
𓆩♡𓆪 chaotic, but very chill at the same time. He’d mostly be like: you do you boo. You’d have a lot of fun, that’s for sure. If you ever passed the speed limit, he’d be like “yo bro, that’s crazy”.  
LEE CHAN 
𓆩♡𓆪 another great teacher. Might be a bit scared, because he isn’t that experienced himself, but he does his best. His driving lessons would be very safe and he’d make sure that you felt safe and confident behind the wheel.
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gatitties · 2 months
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HEYYYY I hope ur doing fine!! And that ur having a happy thanksgiving/ Christmas! I got a request for u!! I saw ur rules and saw that you can write for demon slayer too! And i wanted to ask.
Can I request a Strawhats x Teen!Tanjiro! Reader? Where the reader is a sweet, compassionate and kind kid. They have a heart of gold and they’re very responsible and respectful!! Though they can get annoyed when someone is rude or being cowardly. But they’re so sweet and encourage others so much!!! They always go around doing chores, cleaning, helping out without needing to be asked. They’re so lovable and cuddly!!! And the crew loves their youngest member!! They’re not afraid to ask for help and they know when to let others handle it without a complaint, always smiling and being gentle and sweet with others!!
Take your time with the request!!! I love your writing sm and I hope u never stop! Please and thanks!!!❤️
─Strawhats x teen!Tanjiro!reader (Platonic)
─Summary: You are the most admirable and educated person on the ship despite being the youngest person, your senses make you stand out in addition to your kindness.
─Warnings: none
I'm sorry it took me so long to answer this, but a lot of things accumulated, I hope you like it and that you had a nice Christmas 😭🫶🏻
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─ You are probably the most trustworthy person on the entire ship even if you are the youngest.
─ You are so reliable and kind, you always sit and listen to Nami's problems when she gets irritated, you solve the fights between Sanji and Zoro, you have long talks with Robin about books that she recommends to you…
─ Everyone appreciates your presence because you are reassuring, no matter what problem they are in, you will always make sure that before acting, everyone thinks with their heads, at least almost everyone since it is impossible to stop Luffy's impulses.
─ You practice your sword movements with Zoro, although you have no one who can teach you or guide you better in your breathing methods.
─ Chopper is stressed when you decides to risk your health for the sake of others, which is, most of the time.
─ You are young and you still don't know many things about the world, which is why you are always hanging around the ship, asking random questions in order to learn more, Jinbe is always your trusted source when you don't know about something, Brook and Robin also help because of who are from the elders.
─ You love playing with Luffy, Chopper and Usopp with anything they propose, however you are out of pranks if you know they might bother someone, it's fine if they are innocent pranks.
─ You are willing to help with anything, Franky loves that you are his little helper even though you have no idea about the materials he asks you to give him.
─ When Sanji discovers your good sense of smell, he decides to train you in the kitchen so that you can not only smell danger, but also good food.
─ The first time they saw you hit your head on something they thought you would have a concussion later, however you got up shaking your head to remove the remains of the thing you had broken.
─ Luffy wants to launch you like a missile after seeing that, just to see how many things your hard head can break.
─ Don't worry, Nami will hit him kindly just for thinking about using you as a weapon of destruction.
─ This crew loves you, but seriously, you can't take pity on all your enemies, some will take advantage of your kindness.
─ The least they want is for you to be affected by your gentle personality, they will fight to maintain that warm smile that makes them melt as if you were the sun itself.
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anghraine · 1 month
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It's obvious that I'm adamantly opposed to the idea that Darcy does not deserve Elizabeth's good opinion/love, doesn't deserve his happy ending with her, is generally inferior to her, whatever.
I will say, however, that there is someone who has a good opinion of him that he does very little to earn. I think you could make a much better argument in that case that he doesn't really deserve it. And yet it's so endearing:
[Mrs Bennet:] “Mrs Long told me last night that he [Darcy] sat close to her for half an hour without once opening his lips.” “Are you quite sure, ma’am? Is not there a little mistake?” said Jane. “I certainly saw Mr Darcy speaking to her.” “Ay, because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed very angry at being spoke to.” “Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much unless among his intimate acquaintance. With them he is remarkably agreeable.”
-
Jane's reaction to Wickham's story:
“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light it places Mr Darcy, to be treating his father’s favourite in such a manner,—one whom his father had promised to provide for. It is impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his character, could be capable of it."
Jane passing on Bingley's account:
"I am sorry to say that by his account, as well as his sister’s, Mr Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr Darcy’s regard."
Jane after Wickham's story becomes common "knowledge":
Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case unknown to the society of Hertfordshire: her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes; but by everybody else Mr Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.
Jane after Elizabeth tells her about the Hunsford proposal:
She [Jane] was sorry that Mr Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the unhappiness which her sister’s refusal must have given him.
Jane is so sad about how sad Darcy must be!
“His being so sure of succeeding was wrong,” said she [Jane], “and certainly ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his disappointment.”
Jane's response to hearing the truth about Wickham:
What a stroke was this for poor Jane, who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind as was here collected in one individual! Nor was Darcy’s vindication, though grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery.
Jane still vicariously suffering for Darcy:
“Wickham so very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr Darcy! dear Lizzy, only consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and with the knowledge of your ill opinion too! and having to relate such a thing of his sister! It is really too distressing, I am sure you must feel it so.”
Jane even points out that Darcy's general behavior and demeanor never struck her as all that bad:
[Elizabeth]: “There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it.” [Jane]: “I never thought Mr Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.”
Elizabeth keeps so much of her relationship with Darcy hidden through the later novel that Jane doesn't have reason to say much about him, but after their engagement, Elizabeth worries about her family's response:
she anticipated what would be felt in the family when her situation became known: she was aware that no one liked him but Jane
When Elizabeth tells Jane about the engagement, Jane is shocked and baffled. Elizabeth assures her of her change in feeling, and adds:
"But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?” “Very, very much."
Jane continues to be worried that Elizabeth doesn't really love Darcy and wants details that she eventually does receive.
“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me."
Yes: Darcy is more dear to Jane than her father, mother, other three sisters, friends, and four uncles and aunts.
As for Darcy, he certainly likes and respects her. He describes her in the letter as amiable, cheerful, engaging, and explicitly excludes her from his criticisms of the Bennets. Back at Netherfield, he's noted as ignoring Miss Bingley to be polite towards Jane, and after his own engagement, he points out Elizabeth's care for Jane as early proof of her own goodness. Jane is one of only three characters he refers to by their first name alone by the end of the book (the others are Elizabeth and Georgiana).
So it's not that he doesn't appreciate her in his own way. I actually think the quiet rapport between them is really cute even though Jane is the person who suffers the most for Darcy's mistakes. But damn, Jane.
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onewithblankets · 1 year
Text
pro tips for administering your own t shots
aight so i’ve been doing the whole self injection thing for nine/ten-ish months now, and as someone who’s always been, and still is, a little squeamish around needles, here are some things that help:
when you wipe down the injection site (I do my thighs, intramuscular injection) with an alcohol wipe, wait a little bit for the skin to dry before sticking the needle in. i’ve found this helps reduce the sting a bit.
listen to music. it helps make the whole process a little less nerve-wracking when you’re humming along to a song you like as you prep your syringe.
along the same lines as the last point, I like to use certain beats of a song as a ‘countdown’ almost, to hype myself up for the injection itself. instead of going “three-two-one” and then sticking the needle in, i’ll go “alright, i’ll put on cotard’s solution and stick it in when he starts screaming.” definitely makes the anticipation of the needle itself more bearable.
the anticipation is always worse than the actual injection. don’t let your own brain psyche you out of taking your t for fear of pain. i came into intramuscular injections thinking it’d be awful pain all the time, but half the time it’s barely more than a slight sting and usually doesn’t feel like anything after I put the bandaid on. i think i was more sore in the first couple weeks than i ever am now, though, so i may have just gotten used to it.
don’t inject too quickly, once you have the needle in your flesh. testosterone is pretty thick, so it’ll be a little slower coming out, and trying to push it too hard too fast will just make it uncomfortable or a little painful. 
do all the prepwork and keep everything together in front of you before you even uncap the first needle. make sure you have all the alcohol wipes, needles, vial, bandaids, and sharps box right next to you. you don’t want to pull your needle out of your thigh and then realize you don’t have a bandaid to put on the bleeding hole. that stuff gets everywhere.
alternate your injection sites. don’t do the exact same spot every single week (or however frequently you do your injections) or it will build up tougher tissue and make it harder for you to do injections. i just switch between left and right thighs every week.
once your t is in the syringe, keep your fingers/palms FAR AWAY from the plunger until the needle is inside you. you do not want to know how many times i accidentally squeezed some t out of my syringe because i was moving things around and absentmindedly squeezed on the plunger just a little too hard
check out Howard Brown! very good high quality videos on how to do subcutaneous and intramuscular injections + how to draw medicine out of the vial in the first place. highly recommend.
that’s all i can really think of atm. might update this later if i think of more things/figure something new and cool out for myself, though. hope it’s at least a little helpful for some of you funny internet people.
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