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userlando · 8 months

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sweetener — oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader [4.2k] summary: you'd shown him a picture of a couple on a date, painting. it was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that oscar had apparently stored away in his mind. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, cunnilingus. a/n: hellooo my loves, this was completely inspired by the mclaren painting video and I just couldn't resist writing it. it was time that oscar made his debut on my blog so hope you enjoy this. as always, don't be a ghost reader bc i'd love to hear your thoughts!! happy reading xx

Your boyfriend was a closeted romantic but not many people believed it. He was sarcastic, funny and way more intelligent than people gave him credit for and your friends had warned you of lovebombing when you first started dating.

They couldn’t believe that a man his age could be so sweet, doting on you from the start and planning your dates whereas, in the past, you’d handle everything, secretly wishing that the men on Tinder could - for once - plan nice dates that didn’t involve a couch, a movie and minimal dry conversation that lead nowhere.

It was on your fourth date, when Oscar had taken you for a fun night of mini golf that you realised that you’d quite literally struck gold. And when he’d wrapped his arms around you to help you put and kissed your cheek, you knew you were screwed.

Summer break had just begun but you were still swamped with work, sitting in online meetings until your back turned sore and Oscar kept his distance out of respect for exactly two days before he grew bored and restless. He had your full attention during nights, where you’d go for late night drives to get your usual soggy fries and milkshakes, but he saw how you were growing more and more agitated from work and he couldn’t have that.

It was a bit tricky to set up a picnic basket, packing everything up neatly for a drive out to a meadow he’d come across a few months ago. It was something he’d randomly planned - and scrolled through Pinterest for, and the look on your face was worth all the trouble and then some.

You’d cupped his face in your hands and pressed smacking kisses to his face in thanks, squealing in barely contained excitement as you skipped into your room to change out of your sweats. And when you’d emerged… Oscar had half a mind to throw the plans to the wind, restraining his urge to grab you by the hips and guide you back into the bedroom.

He couldn’t stop staring as you walked in front of him, watching the way your legs moved as you took large and calculated steps over the tall grass. You were surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, but his eyes were focused on you and the flowy dress you wore. The hem of it was kissing the tops of your thighs, beautiful and flattering on you but then again, everything you wore was. It must’ve been new, because Oscar would have definitely remembered a dress like that.

You turned your head to shoot him a smile over your shoulder that was brighter than the sun above and Oscar stumbled a little, causing you to giggle as you stuck your hand back for him to grab. The warmth of your palm made him squeeze it in his grasp, taking a few big strides to fall into step with you.

“This is beautiful.” You mused, voice laced with wonder and he was nodding, even though his eyes were trained on you.

“Yeah.” He murmured, sounding faraway and you shot him an amused glance that Oscar absolutely loved.

The furrowed brows and teasing tilt of his lips would be the death of him. He glanced up, scanning his eyes for a good place to spread out the blanket and he made a pleased sound in his throat when he spotted a hidden spot beneath a gigantic tree. It had plenty of shade and he thanked his lucky stars because he’d forgotten sunscreen and the sun was brutal today. He’d hate to see you get sunburnt. Although he never did mind rubbing you down with aloe.

Oscar cleared his throat when his mind started wandering, ridding himself of his thoughts as he steered the both of you to the spot under the tree. You followed him, humming a song quietly and he couldn’t help but smile at the serenity of it all.

You took a few moments to spread out the blanket, toeing off your shoes and settling down with a sigh. Oscar popped open the lid of the basket and reached inside for the bottle of Orangina and champagne.

“Ah, fuck.” He swore as he peered down into the basket, making you frown in concern.

“What?” You scooted closer, craning your neck to see what he was looking at.

“I forgot the glasses.” He looked up at you, giving you an apologetic smile that you were quick to wave off. “Sorry, love.”

“That’s fine.” You made grabby hands at the bottle, watching him pass it over with a laugh. “We’ll just have to share.”

You unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the cold juice while Oscar started unpacking the vast array of food. He’d really gone all out, picking out your favourite pastries and fruits and something about that made you very emotional. Oscar glanced up at you, stopping his movements when he noticed the shine in your eyes and your wobbly lip.

“Baby.” His voice made you look up, and he laughed when you smiled tearfully at him, like you were trying to reassure him that your tears were out of joy rather than sadness. Oscar cupped your cheek and pulled you forward for a kiss. “Why have you gone all teary on me?”

You gave a heavy sigh that made Oscar’s heart clench painfully in adoration. “It’s just… You’re so sweet to me. I love this. I love you.”

Oscar watched you scoot closer, pressing his face into your hair when you cuddled into his side. You smelled like flowers and he couldn’t resist burying his nose in your hair because that scent was absolutely intoxicating. It was everywhere at home. On the pillows, towels and blankets and it always pulled the same reaction from him.

Sometimes you’d pack his suitcases for him, not because he asked or demanded you, but because your heart was just that kind and you’d spritz your perfume on his clothes because you knew that he secretly loved that. And he did. Nothing made him feel more homesick and loved than when he flipped the lid of his suitcase open and was hit with your scent.

“I guess you’re gonna love me even more.” He said and that prompted you to look up, pulling away from his embrace slightly. The curious tilt of your eyebrows made him smile. “Here.”

He handed you the small container of washed and fresh strawberries before turning to his bag to rifle through it. You gave a laugh of surprise when you realised what he was pulling out, eyeing the paintbrushes and tubes of colours.

You couldn’t believe that he remembered. The one time you’d tilted your phone towards him when you were sat on the sofa, showing him a picture of a random couple painting during a date. It was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that Oscar had apparently stored away in his mind.

“I suck at painting.” He said and it made you laugh. “But I thought this could be fun.”

“Oscar!” You didn’t even know what to say, staring wide eyed and speechless at the things sitting between you before moving your eyes up to him.

His cheeks went pink, bashful smile stretching his lips and you got up on your knees to smack a kiss to his mouth that he laughed into.

“We’re going to outshine Monet.” You said determinedly, sitting back down and grabbing your canvas.

The evening went on as the both of you painted, not very well but it was fun and prompted several fits of laughter from the both of you as you took occasional peeks at your paintings.

One too many gulps of fizzy champagne later and sandwiches eaten, the both of you found yourselves almost done with your pieces. You were sitting cross legged, face pinched in concentration and Oscar couldn’t help but sneak a picture on his phone; finding the sight of you all too endearing. You had a little paint on your cheek that you weren’t aware of, lips slightly pursed and Oscar couldn’t for the life of him stop staring at your exposed thighs. Your dress had ridden up, giving him an amazing view of your legs and he had to physically flex his fingers to keep from grabbing at them.

He cleared his throat and looked away, glancing up at the sky squinting. The sun had found its way behind some very dark clouds and he silently cursed the weather app for giving him false information because it looked like it was definitely going to rain.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” He said, absentmindedly voicing his thoughts out loud and you looked at him before glancing up at the sky.

You scrunched your nose before your face transformed into a smile that made your boyfriend’s heart skip. He squirmed.

“That’s okay.” You said slowly and put down your brush. “Because I... Am done.”

“Let’s see it then.” He grinned at the way you grabbed both sides of your canvas, revealing the other side slowly.

The splash of colour was pretty and it wasn’t hard to make out what it was supposed to be. A beach with a colourful sky consisting of pink, orange and even subtle red. Oscar nodded his head, visibly impressed and you smiled.

“That’s gorgeous, I don’t even wanna show mine now.” He said and you frowned.

“But I wanna see it.” You said, pushing yourself up a little to strain your neck.

But Oscar was quick to hide his canvas close to his chest which made you pout.

“No, it’s hideous.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“Oscar!” You whined and it almost made him cave.

You realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to concede, so you put your canvas down and crawled on all fours over to his side of the blanket. He leaned back, smiling at your giggles until you were on top of him; The awkward angle sending you both into a fit of laughter.

“Is that a duck?” Your voice went high with laughter and Oscar sucked his cheeks into his mouth when you grabbed his canvas and took a look at it. “It’s so cute!”

“It’s —“

“It even has lashes!” You squinted your eyes at it and Oscar frowned.

“That’s eyebrows.” He said and you looked up at him, an apologetic smile playing on your lips.

“Oh.” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your laughter, but Oscar raised his eyebrows in mock insult and it made it harder. “Sorry.”

He wanted to open his mouth and feign insult, but the way you were chewing on your lip made it very hard to concentrate and he found himself getting distracted easier than he’d like to admit. The shine your saliva left had him craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, revelling in your surprised moan that you breathed into his mouth.

You tasted of fizzy champagne and sweet fruits, Oscar licking into your mouth and it made you squirm in his lap. He kissed you until you were out of breath, grabbing your sides and rolling the both of you around until he was straddling you. The squeal that left your lips made you both laugh and it didn’t stop when he struggled to get his canvas out from between your chests to throw it to the side. You blinked up at him slowly, and it was like he was stuck in a trance.

The first drop on your forehead was almost comical, and you thought that maybe he’d accidentally drooled on you for a second. But Oscar glanced up with a frown, just in time for the skies to open up and begin drizzling. Luckily, you found yourselves under the tree and that’s what made it so easy to dismiss the rain, grabbing the collar of Oscar’s shirt to redirect his gaze back to you.

“We’re gonna get si—“ He was interrupted by your lips, a small mmpfh being punched out of his chest and you were quick to swallow the noise, kissing him until the pink in his cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and his lips were kissed raw.

You loved the way he looked after a make out, with the dark eyes and the smatter of colour on his cheeks. It drove you further to mess his hair up and have him grinding down into you.

He wasn’t doing it yet, hips carefully held above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight but you wanted it. Craved it, even.

The rush of water coming down from the sky turned the air damp, clamming your already heated skin up and making it sticky. You let your thighs fall open in an obvious invitation, one that Oscar was too happy to accept when he slotted his hips against yours; Successfully pressing your crotches together. The weight of him was delicious, sparking something hot in your body that had you wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. You felt your foot knock something over, but you were too preoccupied with the way his lips were wandering to actually care.

He kissed wetly down your jaw, sucking insistently on your sensitive skin under your earlobe. You keened, hips jumping up into his in an attempt to grind your centre against him and Oscar quickly met you halfway, the hard bulge of him setting fireworks off in your chest.

“Oscar, please.” You gasped when he bit your throat. He hummed in acknowledgement, low and breathless. “Need more.”

He detached his lips from your neck, glancing around as if he was keeping an eye out for someone and you took that moment to take in his face. The pout of his lips and the width of his neck that you were dying to mark up with your mouth. The sight of it always did things to you, so much so that there had been several occasions where you went a little overboard and sent him on his way to the paddock with a bruised up neck and a blush dancing on his cheeks. He never really protested though, so you didn’t stop.

“Out here?” He asked, looking down at you and you nodded shyly. “Really?”

You turned your head to stare off into the distance, thinking that there was no way anyone was frolicking anywhere near you in this weather. And if there were people around, it was almost impassible to spot the two of you with the way the rain was coming down incredibly heavy. It was hard to see past a few metres and the grass was high enough to hide you both from any prying eyes.

In the meantime your thoughts had calculated the very low risk of being caught, Oscar had begun his ascent up your thighs with his hands, pulling the hem of your dress up in the process. His eyes were fastened on you, wanting to catch every micro expression on your face the higher he went up.

Your mouth opened in a quiet exhale when his hands touched your clothed pussy, thighs trembling when his finger ran over the nub of your clit. Oscar’s heart was beating fast, emotion and adoration gripping his heart in a vice when you looked up at him through your lashes.

You hadn’t dated for that long, but he’d memorised every single expression on your face, along with their meaning. He prided himself in how well he could read you, and he felt just a little smug whenever you brought it up. There was always a bit of wonder in your eyes and surprise in your voice when he said something that you didn’t expect him to remember. Like you never had anyone in your life to pay close attention to you, or even care to and it made him sad because how could they not?

You had somehow managed to become his entire world in the span of a few months and he intended to keep you happier than the average person.

That’s why he didn’t wait to pull your panties to the side when you whispered a small plea, sounding a lot like please, fully zoned in on making you feel as good as possible.

“Oh, shit.” You swore and Oscar hid a smile by hanging his head to stare between your legs instead.

You never swore in daily conversation, but boy, did you turn into a sailor when he was between your thighs.

“My pretty girl.” He complimented you, voice quiet but loud enough to overpower the sound of the downpour.

You smiled shakily, lip wobbling in pure pleasure when he swiped his fingers between your slick folds to wet them. Oscar circled your clit a few times, pulling some moans from your lips and he kept his eyes on your shiny bottom lip as he located your hole and pushed a finger inside.

He groaned around an exhale at the tightness of you, your warmth enveloping his fingers beautifully as he tested the waters. He must’ve deemed you ready for a second digit, sliding it inside alongside the first and watching you squirm atop the blanket.

“God, your fingers.” You bit your lip when his thumb joined in, rubbing your clit just the way he knew you liked it. “Like magic.”

It took everything in your boyfriend not to smile proudly and puff his chest out. It always made him preen when you complimented him while you were lost in the moment, and he knew that a big part of him needed and wanted your validation.

Oscar listened to your whines and moans, bending his head down to press small and fleeting kisses to your clammy skin. Your chest was heaving as he kissed you between your breasts, feeling his own breathing go heavy when you arched your back and stuck your chest out. Like you wanted him to touch you there. And really, who was he to say no when you begged so prettily?

The neckline of your dress was thankfully very stretchy, allowing your boyfriend to pull the material down enough to expose your chest to his eyes. You weren't wearing a bra, something he’d noticed on the car ride over here when the AC had been blasting cold air and tightened your nipples. He hadn’t said anything then but his cock had stirred in interest at the sight.

He moaned almost depravingly when he got his mouth around your nipple, licking and sucking on it until your walls were clenching around his moving fingers. He gave the other the same treatment before deciding that he’d waited enough, moving down your body while his other unoccupied hand bunched up the fabric of your dress over your stomach.

You were dripping wet, slick sliding down his hands and presumably messing up the blanket underneath you and Oscar had to bring a hand down to squeeze around his cock. The sight of you under him with your legs bent and wide open was something he’d take a mental photo of, storing it away in his mind for his loneliest nights.

“Fuck,” he swore, shuffling further down so he was face to face with where you needed him the most. He gave you a sucking kiss on the inside of your thigh and you whined. “You smell so good, baby.”

That had you squirming self-consciously, bringing your hands up to hide your face. Your mouth opened against the palm of your hand when you felt his tongue swipe between his fingers messily, like he was tasting you and you bit down on your hand to stop the inevitable moan from tumbling out.

“Oscar.” You pleaded with him and the next swipe came almost immediately, like he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

Oscar was as talented as they came, when it came to his hands and how to use them. The way the both of you had learned each other’s bodies was admirable, and Oscar had really learnt it well. He knew what made you tick, what made you throw your head back and scream out blasphemous words that had him smirking.

It wasn’t a surprise, really, when he took you to newer highs in record speed. With the aid of his fingers and mouth, he managed to pull out your first orgasm that sent your head spinning right into the gutter. Your thighs closed around his head, turning your head to the sky as you cried out your climax.

Oscar withdrew his fingers from the tight grip of your pussy, but he didn’t stop licking gently as you slowly came down from your high. He kept his eyes on you, enjoying the tremble in your legs around him and the occasional hitch in your breath.

He couldn’t see your face, it being turned to the sky still, but he watched your throat bob before finally looking down at him with a dazed look on your face. Your body jerked when he tongued across your clit, hand shooting down to his hair to grip it loosely.

“That was…” You trailed off, still out of breath and tongue thick in your mouth but Oscar grinned like you’d handed him the stars and moon.

“Another one?” He asked, almost hopefully and you gave him a look of slight disbelief.

You laughed with a nod, trying not to flush warmth when he tilted his head back to wipe at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so casual, but the sight of it made your entire being turn fire hot. Even more so when he pressed a few absentminded kisses to your thighs before going right back in, working you with his tongue until the initial sensitivity faded off to the background and brought forth a second wave of pleasure.

Oscar’s jaw was starting to ache, but you were grasping at his hair and scratching his scalp so pleasantly that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He needed you to come again, needed to taste more of you because he couldn’t have enough. So, he upped the ante and focused on your clit, laving his tongue over it and pursing his lips to suck it into his mouth.

He was almost disappointed when your moans started turning high pitched, thighs clenching tightly around his head because he wanted it to go on for longer. But he couldn’t be too sad about it when you sounded the way you did, so breathless and lost to the world.

There was no doubt that anyone could’ve heard you if it weren’t for the rain, the way you were moaning and cursing. It made Oscar smug, but also so fucking hard that he had to reach his hand down to fish himself out of his pants, almost moaning into your pussy when his hand closed around his length.

It really wouldn’t take long for him to come, already feeling sensitive to his touch as he jacked himself off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cussed suddenly in one drawn out breath, hips arching up into his mouth as you groaned out your second orgasm.

The hitches in your breaths as the orgasm rolled through you made Oscar squeeze himself and it was when you pushed his head off of you with your hand that he hurriedly sat up, getting so dizzy from the sudden movement that he almost went teetering to the side. You hadn’t realised that he was taking care of himself until you caught sight of his hand, peering at him through hooded eyelids as he groaned low in his throat and aimed between your legs, coming with a jump of his hips.

It made you clench around nothing. The sight of him throwing his head back, hair damp and floppy as he sucked air into his lungs. He gave off a full body shiver, sitting back on his heels with a deep sigh.

“That was new.” You said around a smile, making him look down at you. His cheeks went pink, smile a little shy and you grabbed his arm to pull him down so you could kiss his smiling mouth.

“I hope that was okay.” He whispered against your lips and you gave him a slow nod.

“More than okay.” You glanced down between you two, pulling a slight grimace at your soiled underwear. “Need to get those off though.”

Oscar laughed and sat up, reaching for tissues while you did your best to pull your panties down your legs. You let them drop to the side, cheeks warm at the sight of both your spend on the wet material.

“Do you reckon it’s better to wait the rain out?” Oscar asked casually as he pried your legs apart, gently cleaning you up.

You glanced around, noting that while it was still raining, it seemed to let up quite a bit and you figured that it wouldn’t take long before it ceased completely. It was a trek back to the car and you honestly didn’t think that your legs could work for the next half hour anyway.

Oscar threw away the soiled tissues and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him until you got the memo and moved to snuggle up into his side. He pulled you in, burying his face in your hair with a sated sigh.

“Probably best to wait it out.” You replied belatedly. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.”

Oscar hid a smile in your hair.

“Me neither.” He murmured against your temple.

He’d sit around here forever if it meant spending time with you.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smut

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snzhrchy · 1 year

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Hi hru 👋🏾

I have a request for Wednesday on Netflix maybe you could write xavier and the reader having a fight and then he suddenly kisses the reader. Only if you want

— ☆ THOSE FEW DAYS !

xavier thorpe x fem!reader

synopsis; you’re just concerned about your boyfriend’s issues but it leads to a terrible argument between you two yet you both still long for eachother.

warnings; none :)

taglist; lmk if u wanna be on it !

Ever since the arrival of Wednesday Addams in Nevermore and the unfortunate expulsion of Rowan, your boyfriend, Xavier Thorpe had been acting rather, unusual, to say the least.

Yes, he did lose his roommate and he was being tormented by frequent nightmares of a creature — it was enough to make one lose their sanity. Yet today, in particular, he was acting odd.

You noticed that today, he was feeling uncomfortable, bothered by the slightest conversation, as if he were scared. He also was making an attempt to cover his neck either with his collar or hands. You observed that the reason as to why he was hiding his neck was due to the large red scars that were planted on it — worst of all, they were fresh. They looked as if a creature had attacked his neck as it appeared that maybe claws were the cause of it.

You overheard him informing Wednesday that the scars were due to fencing class yet you knew him better than anyone — he wasn’t that careless to get injured so terribly in fencing. It was probably due to another cause.

Eventhough, deep down you knew you shouldn't inquire him about his latest injury something had urged you to question him about it. You wanted to know why he looked and felt so terrified. After all, you were his girlfriend, shouldn't you have a right to know?

Reluctantly, you made your way to his art studio which was an old shed he had cleaned out. You knew he was in it due to the slow hum of the music you could hear from the outside and the small light rays that penetrated out of the shed's windows.

Xavier would visit the shed whenever he was in distress. Lately, he'd been visiting it quite often as he was tortured by all his horrifying dreams and the events occurring in Jericho. The rumours of the creature in the woods weren't helping either.

One, two, three. You knocked thrice onto the door, patiently waiting for the man inside to let you in. After a few moments on waiting, the door finally opened to reveal an anger-stricken Xavier, who leaned against the doorway of the shed.

His palms were coloured in different shades of blue and red, indicating that he was painting. Whereas his eyes were both avoidant of your gaze. He kept glancing at his shoes, not even bothering to greet you — other times, he'd let you in, showing off anything new he had painted.

You broke off the awkward silence with a small cough, 'can I come in?' you lightly asked as you attempted to smile at him. Still not meeting your eyes, he replied with a simple 'sure,' and moved out of the way so that you could enter.

You looked around and were horrified at the sight of the inside of the shed. Nearly every corner was filled with sketches, drawings and paintings of the creature - some scribbled messily while others were decorated in detail. You now knew that his nightmares were only getting worse even with his multiple therapy sessions, he still wasn't getting any better.

'So what do you want?' Xavier asked with no emotion. You turned to look at him after finally tearing your eyes away from the gnarly pictures he had drawn. 'I just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling,' you replied, 'I noticed your scars and I wanted to ask you...' you trailed off, unsure of how to continue since you noticed that his expression hardened.

'Why? So you could blame me for all the murders?' he snapped. You had no idea what Xavier could possibly mean by that statement. Did someone blame him? Was that he was feeling so sour?

'No, I don't blame you at all and you know that. I was just here to check up on you and-' before you could finish, you were cut off by Xavier: 'well, I don't need you checking up on me, I'm perfectly fine. Stop pretending like you ever actually cared,' he shouted.

All the worry you had about him left you immediately, you yelled back at him as he yelled at you. You both were shouting back and forth, throwing cruel words at eachother. Until, you had had enough. Your eyes and cheeks were now stained with tears, your lips were bleeding due to you biting them aggressively and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

His harsh words were enough for you to finally leave his shed, filled with rage and sadness. Clearly, he was not feeling alright and took out his anger on you. You were just trying to check up on him, what could've caused him to feel like this?

To be honest, you were angry at him, terribly angry. You stormed into your room, trying to block off any thoughts you had about him. Yet you couldn't since no matter how foolish he acted, you still liked him.

Rave'N was suppose to be a fun and eventful night for any outcast. Well, any outcast except for you. Ever since your argument with Xavier, you didn't bother talking to him, even when he attempted to apologise to you.

You went with your friend and roommate, Yoko and instead of moping over Xavier, you decided to actually enjoy yourself. It was a party after all, you were suppose to enjoy yourself here. The drinks and loud music were finally making you forget all about Xavier.

After a couple of drinks and a few dances with Yoko, you were finally exhausting yourself. Tearing away from Yoko and the dance floor, you finally sat down on a table you presumed to be empty to rest a bit before going back.

'I see you're enjoying yourself here,' a familiar yet unexpecting voice called — the last voice you wanted to hear right now. Sighing, you turned to look at the unwelcomed face of Xavier. You raised your brow, 'So? It's a party,' you replied, not even bothering to pay attention to him.

'Hey listen...' he began as he sat himself next to you. You knew what to expect, for the past few days, Xavier had been attempting to apologise to you for his harsh words yet you didn't bother listening to any of his apologies; most of the time, Yoko would just tell him to leave.

You sighed and turned to look at him, 'you've told me that same apology multiple times but you have to realise that I was really hurt by your words... I was just worried.' This was probably the longest conversation you both had this entire week.

'Xavier, I understand you were hurting back then but I just kinda wished you ta—‘ before you could finish your statement, you got interrupted by a pair of lips on yours.

It was a surprised gesture but you reciprocated it almost immediately; you missed this so much. You’d never admit it but you really did miss Xavier loads. Just by kissing him, all the events of the past few days were lost; you just wanted to be with him.

Once you two pulled apart, Xavier looked at his shoes, avoiding your gaze again — it looked as if he was embarrassed of his actions.

‘I’m really sorry about that, y/n. I shouldn’t have done that,’ he stated apologetically. Deep down, Xavier longed for things to go back to the way they were. He felt upset and he missed you so much.

‘Hey, it’s alright. I’m kinda over it besides, you were just on edge back then; we both said things that we regretted. I understand,’ you gently spoke. Xavier looked at you with hopeful eyes yet he didn’t utter a single word.

The last thing Xavier expected you to do was stand up and offer your hand to his, inviting him onto the dance floor.

‘Come on,’ you said as you happily dragged him to the dance floor.

#wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagines #wednesday series #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier imagines #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagines

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ravenna-reid · 3 months

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The Tortured and the Test Subject

Jason Todd x Cadmus Test Subject Reader

This one is a lil different to what I usually do. A mix of what happened to Super Boy in Young Justice (Cadmus Labs) and Eleven in Stranger Things. But I hope you all like it anyways <3 Pls lmk if you would be interested in a Part 2!

Warnings -- swearing, mentions of death and torture

The deafening sound of a distant motorcycle reverberated off of the walls of the batcave. As the tires screeched and the smell of rubber filled the air, Jason came to a stop, turned it off and held his helmet in his hand. Looking around, the batcave was eerily quiet and empty.

“Hey Bruce, you in here?”

The only thing that answered him was the echo of his own voice. And the sound of soft shuffling against material and a faint, constant beep. Weary of his surroundings, and what crazy things he might find in this cave, Jason edged in the direction it came from. As he walked past one of Bruce’s large technological whatevers and turned the corner, he froze in his tracks.

Lying on one of the med beds, with restraints strapped on her arms, legs, and across her stomach, was one of the most stunning girls Jason had ever seen. Skin like porcelain and dark eyelashes fanning over her cheeks. She was dressed in some sort of grey jumpsuit, the numbers 09714 embroidered near her left shoulder. But there was one key detail that really stood out to Jason. The white streak that ran through her hair. Pulling his eyes away from it, Jason looked over at the machines she was hooked up to, each one of them saying that she had no heartbeat. No breath. Nothing in her at all. An unsettling sensation instantly washed over him as he dared to creep closer.

“Jason.”

With widened eyes, Jason whirled around to find Bruce standing behind him, dressed in his Batman suit with his mask off. Hardened expression painted across his face, Bruce seemed completely unfazed with having a dead woman in the batcave.

“Bruce, who the hell is this?” Jason asked, voice accusatory and brows furrowed.

Ignoring him, Bruce moved past Jason over to his many computers. He brought up images of what seemed to be a secret lab – another Cadmus Lab Jason realised – and it looked like it was in Blüdhaven. Dozens of police cars were parked outside of the building, the lab disguised as an industrial factory.

“Dick had been working with others to locate another hidden Cadmus Lab and bring it down. Once they’d broken in and detained the scientists running it, he and Starfire tried to save as many as they could. Including her.”

Bruce brought up an image of the girl that lied motionless behind them. Eyes bright and gleaming, a soft smile gracing her face. Jason took every detail in.

“They were running some kind of tests on her. I’m still not sure what. But interestingly enough, once Dick and his team entered the facility, remaining scientists quickly let off some sort of knockdown gas in her cell.” Bruce let out a deep sigh as he turned back to face her. “All I know is that she was their only successful test subject. And that even though she is alive, technically, she’s dead.”

Jason’s stomach dropped down to his feet.

“What?” What the actual fuck. Could the Lazarus Pit be involved? No, because his heart was still beating, whereas hers….

In that moment, the restraints attached to her began to rattle against the steel of the med bed. Turning to look at you, Jason watched as you began to stir from your deep slumber, his eager eyes looking between you and the machines that were telling him you were dead.

“I guess we’re about to find out what she’s capable of. I’m going to go get Dick, stay here and watch her.”

“What? Bruce, no. I just came here to –” It was pointless finishing his sentence, Bruce was already gone.

A soft hum came from you, and all Jason could do was watch and wait. Suddenly your eyes flew open. Large and bright, intensely taking in your surroundings. You began to try and move your arms and legs against the restraints to no avail. Jason wanted to say something, but what would he even say?

Suddenly, your focus settled onto him and something got caught in his throat. Silence enveloped the room until he forced himself to speak.

“Finally decided to wake up, huh?”

All it took was a single breath. A single blink of his eyes and suddenly you had torn off all of your restraints, were on your feet and had him pinned against the wall.

“Fuck.” He hissed, shocked by your immense strength. Your touch was ice cold and unforgiving, your glare just as harrowing.��

“Who are you?” You snapped, your face just inches from Jason’s.

“Usually, I’d ask you out on a date before letting you get this close to me.” He strained.

Your glare faltered, a confused frown occupying your face now.

“You’re mocking me?” Your grip tightened on his shirt.

“No, no I wasn’t mocking you.” He began. Jason searched for a distraction. Searched for something else to say to you, anything. “Do you remember what happened? Remember Cadmus?”

The mention of that place obviously struck a nerve. A glint of fear quickly passed through your eyes and Jason felt a tinge of sympathy. What the hell did they do to you in there?

“I’m not there?” You asked.

“No, you’re not. You're safe now.” Jason’s breathing mellowed out a bit as he watched the gears in your head turn. As he watched you hang off of every word he said.

“Are you going to take me back there?”

“No, I promise. But I’m going to need you to answer a few questions. for me and --”

Your glare was back, and this time you came in even closer, your breath fanning his face. His heart skipped several beats.

“Swear it. Swear you won’t hand me back over to them.”

“Cadmus is destroyed. Everyone that worked for them is going to prison.”

He could tell his answer wasn’t enough. Jason brought his hand up to where his heart was, and made a cross over the fabric of his shirt with his index finger.

“Swear on my mothers grave.”

Looking down at the shirt you held onto, you saw an array of silver streaks on his skin peek out from behind it. Scars.

And for some reason, you felt you could trust him. That if anyone could ever be able to understand what you had been through, it was him. You had no idea why.

After that, Dick and Bruce had returned, astounded to see the restraints on the floor and you holding Jason against the wall. Bruce tried to be rational with you and Dick tried to work his sympathetic charm, but your eyes remained on Jason. They all sat around you now as you fiddled with the sleeves of your jumpsuit.

“We just wanna know what they were doing at that lab. Doing to you.” Jason asked, and you didn’t seem to mind how blunt he was.

So you told them everything. How you’d been taken in when you were 18. How they were eager to see whether or not they could create a metahuman. Or at least turn a born human into one. How the tests were torturous, and how you ended up developing a few abilities thanks to the chemicals that they had pumped in you. Of course, it resulted in you dying and coming back to life... However, your vital organs were no more. No more breathing. No more blood rushing through your body. You tried to ignore that part. Tried to romanticise it by telling yourself you were like the vampires from the shows you watched in high school now.

“So, superhuman strength? Durability?” Bruce began as he took notes.

“It’s hard for me to die.” You added, another unique ability you knew you had. Neither of the bat boys wanted to know how you knew that.

“But I can also heal. That’s all though.”

A silence settled over the room like a weighted blanket. Jason watched you and couldn’t help but feel like he could understand you on some sort of level. Understand how it felt to be tortured for so many days on end. To have someone try to turn you into something you’re not. And becoming successful in doing so. Jason was also pretty pissed that Dick was the one who found those assholes working at Cadmus, cause if it was him, he would have killed every last one of them for what they did.

Bruce’s gaze settled on you and the boys knew it all too well. It was his pity look. It was the look he gave when he was about to say something that would be better left unsaid.

“Do you know how long you were there for?” He asked.

You shook your head, almost not wanting to know the answer. “No.”

“Based on the information I retrieved from their database, you've been stuck in Cadmus for almost three years. You’re turning 21 in four days.”

You closed your eyes, the realisation of how long it’d been since you left that damn building hitting you like a truck. You could feel the hot tears sneak up on you as they made their way to your eyes, but fought hard to suppress them. After a moment to yourself, a shaky breath left your body.

“Hey, it’s ok. At least you're out now! You’re free y/n.” Dick began.

A pain so deep and fervent began in Jason’s chest. A pain he hadn’t felt since Bruce betrayed him and replaced him with Tim.

Jason got to his feet and Bruce and Dick’s eyes followed him.

“Come on, we don’t need to discuss this anymore. We have all that we need.”

“Jason –”

He cut Bruce off. “No Bruce. She just woke up. She probably hasn’t even seen the sun since she was taken to that hellhole. Just give her a break for a second.”

Dick’s mouth almost fell open, his eyes meeting with Bruce’s.

“Alright.” Bruce replied coolly, intrigued by how Jason was handling the situation. ‘Mr. doesn’t want to be involved.’ ‘Mr. revenge and hate.’

You sat nimbly though, lost in your thoughts and eyes trained on the floor before you spoke up. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

You fought for the memory that was buried deep at the back of your mind. “I’m an orphan. I was staying in dorms…I was there for just one week.”

“It’s alright, you can stay here.” Bruce concluded, and with that, he got up and left, preparing for another night of patrol.

“Hey,” Your eyes flickered over to the boy who had similar hair to you as Jason grabbed your attention. Dick simply sat back and watched. “I can show you around if you want?”

You gave a nod before both you and Jason left the batcave so that he could take you to Wayne Manor. So he could take you to your new home.

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood imagine #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood angst #batfamily #dcu #dc comics #jason peter todd

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sokkastyles · 1 month

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I have a question, I know we know that shipping does not equal morality. And I get that, and I really like that. However, on my other blog, that should have been my main blog (yes I am that dumb). I have talked about Aang's non-consensual and criticized how Kataang is written, however, if you ship Kataang I won't come for your throat because that's not my style. I know the few misogynists/antis on here and on Twitter, and I don't want to let a few bad apples be my impression of a fandom, that's not fair, So now I'm side-eyeing myself over my past remarks. Likewise, I know shipping is not equal to morality, but I also want to criticize Kataang because of how flawed it is and how wrong that kiss was (and other things). I have no idea what I'm saying because at this point I'm rambling. What do you think?

Well, there is a difference between criticizing a ship and criticizing canon. I don't honestly care what people ship. I use the antikataang tag because I don't want to argue with people who do ship it, but that doesn't mean I won't be critical of what is in the show. I think expecting people not to engage critically with media is absolute nonsense. But there is a difference between engaging critically with the actual media and criticizing people's fanon or headcanons, which is where you get away from critically engaging with canon and move into the area of criticizing other people's opinions, which is how arguments start.

Like, there isn't really any actual concrete argument you can make to criticize zutara, because zutara does not exist in canon. It's all fanon and headcanons and speculation. And criticizing other people's opinions just makes you look like a dick.

You also have to take into account the intention behind something. The thing about the way Katara's relationship with Aang is presented is that we're supposed to root for Aang to get Katara, and every obstacle towards that end is just there to create dramatic tension for the male point of audience identification. That's the real problem with the noncon kiss, and people who are critical of it are right to point it out.

In contrast, when I say shipping isn't morality, I'm talking about people who write, let's say, dubcon zutara fics. Fanfiction as a genre is largely female-centered fantasy. Yes, even those lurid fics you're thinking of. People write and read these fics for completely different reasons and have completely different expectations than when watching a series like ATLA. Trying to say that someone can't criticize the way the show presents Aang kissing Katara after she said she was confused as a mistake to be glossed over (that is forgotten as soon as it happens) because they also happen to like reading darkfic is nonsense. There's also a long history of women's interests being policed that informs my views here, vs the fact that consent has only fairly recently become a conversation in mainstream media. You have only to look at the way the show itself portrays Katara having interests (especially in boys) outside of Aang as dark and dangerous to see this happening in ATLA itself. Or the way the creators got away with saying that zutara shippers are doomed to end up in abusive relationships while painting Aang as a typical Nice Guy stereotype who expects Katara to magically become his girlfriend (and gets angry when she doesn't) and seeing nothing wrong with it.

The thing is that zutara, if we look at the way it's written in canon as a metaphor for a romantic relationship, follows the same tradition of how fanfiction has historically existed as an exploration of romantic and sexual dynamics. Those conversations about consent are actually happening and being explored in fanfiction, even the dark stuff, whereas relationships that are presented as "wholesome" often push us to NOT have those conversations. So when I say shipping isn't morality, what I actually mean is that noncanon shipping and darkfic actually has more of a moral leg to stand on than uncritically engaging with relationships on the grounds that Aang is the hero so his goodness and worthiness to get the girl should just be assumed. Zuko has to work for his right to be in a relationship with Katara because he didn't start out from a place of goodness, and that, on its own, is very female centered because instead of starting out from the perspective of the male hero deserving a relationship by virtue of being the hero, we see the idea that a man has to work to gain a woman's respect and affection.

So it's not so much that I hate KA, but I hate the idea that we should engage in it uncritically. And that would be true even if it really was the most wholesome relationship in the world. The same thing cannot be true of zutara because even the darkest of darkfic are about women centering themselves in the narrative and engaging with power dynamics in ways that are subverting patriarchal norms about relationships by definition.

#zutara #antikataang #the discourse

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yanderenightmare · 1 year

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something i havent seen you do is Bakugou with an equally famous or successful reader, like she's still quirkless but maybe an idol of sorts? i think it could be interesting

BNHA ! HEADCANONS + IMAGINE

Bakugou Katsuki x darling

TW: yandere, some slight nsfw, obsession, coercion, abuse of power

PROFESSIONAL

Your face is on the poster plastered right next to his, only you look like his stark opposite.

Flowers instead of explosions frames you and your dewy skin. Glittering with the spritz of perfume you’re commercializing instead of the droplets of sweat and grease he’s smeared with.

A catlike grin plays deceptively soft in the corner of your glossy lips, whereas his bear a crazed maniacal demonstration of canines like a rabid mongrel.

And your eyes, painted with a seductive blend of smokey colors similar to the smudge of his war paint, though refined to make you look oh-so-lush and divine, like a queen, and he, only a lowly sooty footsoldier in comparison.

He buys magazines you’re featuring in and reads them before bed.

Ending up with a hand bobbing beneath the cover.

Feeling lucky like none when the poster within is a large A3 foldout of you in something rather risqué.

He reads your interviews from cover to cover or watches them on TV.

His heart pounding when the segment of your nameless childhood bully is brought up. Happy to see you haven't forgotten him.

He was a complete desperate mess when you did that extremely private lingerie commercial that had you showing off nearly all assets on a set of pillows and plushies.

Losing his mind looking through the mesh and chiffon right to where your nipples teased him with their perky strut.

Not to mention your face and your expressions…

You really know how to play to the camera. So much so it makes him jealous of the photographer.

He’d like to be the one to tell you to pose and give him a pout. Pretending he is when slowly peeling each page over to view the following image. Throat tight and dry and palms sweaty, watching you crawl and give a rather intimidatingly large teddy bear a kiss on the cheek.

You’ve definitely become something different from your shared days in middle school.

Something confident and alluring.

Something he wants to play with in a wide new variety of ways than before.

It’s good that your industry often intertwines with his.

He knows exactly which model to request when his agency wants to shoot a new campaign poster starring Dynamight saving a Damsel in Distress.

No one but you fit the role so picture-perfectly, being both a beautiful idol and a quirkless citizen.

You’ve learned to refrain from asking your handler any questions, just doing what the strict woman tells you, be it what jobs to take, how to dress, or what to eat. It’s better that way. She’s a professional, and you owe your entire career to her wisdom. But once you get to the photo shoot and start recognizing the props of a certain hero decorating the stage, you get queasy with unease upon understanding exactly which pro hero you’re going to be shooting with.

Swallowing thickly, you bar yourself in your dressing room for a minute. Your handler already shouting at your ear enough to make you wince with tears at the ready as you try to explain the sticky situation to her. Naturally, your cries fall upon deaf ears, and soon enough, you’re convinced you’re being silly. This is a huge opportunity, after all. Dynamight is on par with Deku, having shared the title of the number one hero ever since they graduated. It would be career suicide to decline a collab with him, especially now that you’re already under contract with his agency.

You splash your face with cold water to calm the swelling left by your tears and get dressed in the silky white summer dress provided to you. It’s a pretty article, you think without being overly happy about it. It’s a thin, nearly see-through, backless model with a rather deep dip reaching down between your breasts. And though it isn’t at all the first time you flaunt your body in a nearly nude state in front of the world, it certainly is the first time you do so in front of the guy who used to pick your appearance apart until you cried. You only hope he doesn’t recognize you and that the shoot will be over before he eventually can.

You’re glad your handler does what her job suggests and handles all handshakes and greetings on your behalf. But though all the formalities of the work fall upon her shoulders, the part of the actual modeling is something only you can do.

You’re able to remain professional for the most part, barely ever glancing in his direction, though picking up on his mass from the corner of your eye and through the veil of fake lashes where you keep your eyes glued to the floor as the photographer gives instructions for the new pose. But then comes the direction you were dreading, the one which has the two of you touching. And even though you knew it was inevitable, you still flinch when he puts his hands on you.

And though the assistants, handlers, managers, and photographers are all oblivious to your discomfort, he notices, smiling at your tiny shivers and how well you hide them.

He’s so much bigger than you remember, you think while you try steadying your breath and convincing yourself that it isn’t any different from all those other times you’ve gone out of your comfort zone for the sake of a good deal. The shoot you did for Playboy Magazine had practically been a porno, and that time you’d been surrounded by a great deal of big beefy men, much similar to the one touching you now.

Still tough... you had a laugh that time around. You had fun.

This wasn’t fun.

“Funny this.” He spoke, and you feared he was speaking to none other than you.

Holding you in a scoop of a bridal carry, you felt the harsh metal of his costume dig into your skin, not more than the grip of his hands clawing at your flesh like a predator sinking its teeth into caught prey. The grime on his fingers dirtying the white of your dress.

“Or… ironic is a better word for it.” He adds, and you finally look up into that face that still sometimes haunts you in your dreams despite having been out of your life for years. “Oh- don’t say you don’t remember me, Quirkless?”

After the shoot, the photographer praises you on your ability to portray true distress, unbeknownst that the sentiments in your expressions were genuine, and you almost trip over the stage props while thanking him, wanting to leave the set as quickly as possible in favor of going home.

But obviously, shooting a campaign poster isn’t why you’re there.

“Have dinner with me.” He says, with his hand, seemingly made to break bones, wrapped tight around your twiggy wrist. Stopping you from running away.

And just as expected, your handler accepts before you can make the costly mistake of refusing.

tip-jar: Kofi

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machineryangel · 7 months

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Haven't seen anyone talk ab it but Twin Drums studio (the majority of its core team of nine are Black, female, and queer) is developing a (successfully kickstarted!) Afro-fantasy game called The Wagadu Chronicles and I'm rly excited for its launch and you should check out their links

"This is a very personal project [...]" Twin Drums' founder and creative director Allan Cudicio explains. "For me, that meant looking back at my career realising how hard I had to fight just to get some Black characters in the games I was working on, or to get the artists to have an African-inspired setting and not the 40th European, French/Venetian inspired setting. It was very much a personal fight I had to go through."

"The game is political," Cudicio continued, describing the game as 'immersed in a Black, queer positive source'. "Too often we hear in our industry 'We don't do politics', which is fascinating. It's better to embrace what politics you have and for us it's anti-colonial, it's feminist, it's anti-ableist."

"[The Wagadu Chronicles] is an African-inspired fantasy sandbox MMORPG, so you travel through this African-inspired world, doing what you could call life skills: farming, fishing, crafting," Cudicio said. "It also has combat, mostly PVE, inspired by single player turn-based RPGs. Community is very important. Every village you see in The Wagadu Chronicles has been created, nurtured and expanded by communal efforts, which again is inspired by traditions of the continent. (x)

Wagadu removes the lens of medieval European influences in fantasy by being based entirely on African mythology. “A lot of games is nonconsensual killing and getting rewarded for it, whereas in Wagadu, and with nature, it’s about consent,” explains Cudicio. “That’s like traditional Yoruba hunters of the south of Nigeria. When they hunt, they chant a blessing and ask permission for the animal. In some cultures, you also ask for forgiveness or thank them afterwards. I think it’s important to rethink hunting not as something that’s very Western and capitalist — which is about the domination and destruction of nature — whereas in African societies it’s about balancing and respecting it.”

Suffice to say, being set in an African fantasy world also means players will only be able to play as Black characters, with a large selection of African names to choose from. “I know if people have that freedom, then white players will be lazy and just pick white people, and not challenge themselves, and then the setting will not be Black anymore,” says Cudicio. “To keep Wagadu African, there needs to be an artistic direction to say, like, this is a Black world, so everybody who plays has these features.” (x)

There have been black people in fantasy previous of course, but often their stripped of any tangible African influence. “I think what happens is you get very Western fantasy with people painted black, basically. There’s metal armour or a French looking knight, just with an afro or black skin. It’s good, it’s better than nothing, but we need to move a step further. It’s a very Eurocentric blackness.” (x)

#DOESN'T IT LOOK SO GOOD !!!!!#i'm surprised no one is promoting this yet :')#pcg #the wagadu chronicles #twin drums #pc games #video games #game development #game art #gaming #afrofantasy

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vampyrsm · 8 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER SIX | KUEBIKO

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues into the mountains where the darkest of souls reside, and here is where you will find a once in the life time opportunity. Will you take it or will you wilt beneath the crushing palm of the man who controls your life?

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 6.5k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, dead bodies, descriptions of wounds, threats of violence/death, female reader, brief description of ritual suicide.

“Leave.” Sukuna doesn’t spare the unknown woman a second glance after his command, instead, he glares directly at you. Clearly whatever the woman had realised whilst looking at you had angered Sukuna in some way.

The raven-haired woman smiles knowingly in your direction, her eyes wide with mirth. Her hands remain hidden with the long sleeves of her kimono, and even then when she’s posing no physical threat to you – you can’t help but feel like you’re staring directly at death itself.

“Of course.” She nods her head a little, moving to step past you before she stops directly at your side. You freeze at the proximity, the aura that follows her is suffocating. It’s different from Sukuna’s, whereas he is all-encompassing with regality and brutality, this woman makes you feel like an ant beneath her foot. You were beneath her.

“I do hope we’ll get to speak soon. Alone.” Her voice is far too close to your ear, a hushed whisper that laps at the shell of your ear until you shiver. “I’d love to know what’s inside that head of yours.”

“Kenjaku.” Sukuna’s voice is a foreboding warning, his eyes now snapped onto the long-haired woman who smiles with ease over her shoulder. This time she doesn’t say anything in retort, simply smiles before leaving the throne room entirely.

One threatening aura is immediately replaced with another. Sukuna. He’s still glaring at you with a far-from-impressed expression resting on his face. Slowly, his eyes scan down along your body as if he’s taking in the true state of your attire and general hygiene after a week or so of riding.

“Follow.” Another order, and you follow as soon as he starts walking. He walks away from the door you had entered in and towards the left, you hadn’t noticed that there were multiple entryways into the room. Though the door you pass through is much smaller than the grand wooden doors, they’re less imposing.

He leads you through the corridors once again, his footsteps are like distant claps of thunder with how heavy each step is. You pass by an open courtyard, enclosed by the walls of the temple and opened to the elements from above. The snow that falls is an intense tempest of white snowflakes, each of them gathering in the loose gravel of the courtyard and freezing over what were once functioning bamboo water spouts.

On the opposite end of the courtyard, you spy a seat. Behind that seat is a large wooden symbol that’s painted in a similar red to Sukuna’s eyes. It’s a single word; 解. Dismantle. You had heard often of Lordships that would have grand courtyards like this, with seats overseeing it whenever they had to deal with a request made by Samurai.

You had seen it once when you were still living with your father. You had only been fourteen years old at the time and he had you sitting next to his large seat. He told you that if you wanted to be a Samurai then you would see what it means to be a true Samurai.

The courtyard was filled with his own Samurai, all belonging to the Shogun and each of them were also kneeling just as you were. Your father had neglected to tell you what the occasion would be to gather in such a place like this. In the centre of the yard, there was a simple bamboo mat with a man kneeling on it.

In front of him laid his katana and wakizashi; a smaller version of the katana. You recall faintly the words the man had spoken to your father, he wanted to be blessed with the highest honour by dying in front of the Shogun. Samurai often did this when they had disgraced their clan or were set up for execution.

Your father being the man he was, had allowed this. You could only watch in silent horror as the man stripped the top half of his yukata, and with one hand slid along his stomach until he found the spot just beneath his ribcage. The slick stabbing sound of the wakizashi was nothing compared to what came next, the man whilst sweating and grunting in pain had gripped his blade tighter before sliding it smoothly along his stomach.

No one had blinked an eye when the man disembowelled himself. The words your father had spoken to you when he saw the expression on your face were harsh. “You will fall to a similar fate if you dare disgrace this family.”

“Oi.” Sukuna’s voice causes you to blink away the blurry image of your father, you hadn’t realised you stopped to stare blankly out at the snow-covered courtyard. Another blink and the vision of the man fades from your mind, you hadn’t thought of that day in a very long time.

You turn to face Sukuna, to continue on the path he was taking you on but you have to take a step back lest you walk head-first into his chest. He’s staring down at you, down the smoothness of his nose with a light frown. His eyes are bouncing back and forth between your own, trying to decipher just what had been going on through your mind.

When his search turns out to be useless, he simply sighs heavily through his nose before a large hand wraps itself around your wrist. You’re tugged harshly alongside him, and it’s very similar to the situation when he dragged you out of the previous shrine to safety. Your feet struggle to keep up, slipping against the smooth wooden floorboards and tripping when you have to step over a threshold.

Sukuna didn’t stop nor did he give you a second glance as you struggled.

The chill of the outside once again bites at your exposed flesh, and you find yourself being dragged into another courtyard within the temple. This one wasn’t nearly as large as the one you had previously seen, this one was much more personal. You figured out why when you saw the steam rising in curls from the hot spring in the centre.

“Bathe,” Sukuna says as he releases your arm, part of you wants to snap your teeth in his direction for the commands he keeps barking at you like you were some lowly dog. “I have something to attend to first.”

You don’t have the chance to ask him if he means he’ll be returning soon, Sukuna has already vanished back into the temple leaving you in the blistering cold with nothing but the wind to accompany your thoughts. Looking back at the hot spring, you don’t feel nearly as apprehensive as you once had when you first were forced into one of them.

The ride here had been long and dreadful, you had mud in places you didn’t know mud could reach and the dried blood beneath your nails had started to hurt from just how much there was. You weren’t going to lose the chance to bathe, especially in a spring as warm as this when the snow continued to fall heavily atop your head.

Stripping the sullied kimono, you were quick to submerge yourself into the water. It was deep, just like the other one, and lapped harshly against your neck when you dunked yourself low enough to soak completely. It felt good, the aches in your thighs and hips slowly ebb away with the warmth of the water continuing to caress your body until you relaxed.

You found yourself looking up at the night sky once again, the sun was just starting to rise but it did nothing to blot out the dark grey clouds that hung heavy and low atop the mountains. They continued to snow heavily, the flakes melting before they could even find a resting place against your heated face.

In the quietness of the heavy snowfall, your mind naturally began to wander to the past few days that seemed to blur together. You still had no idea why Sukuna had insisted on dragging you all the way to what must be his ancestral temple, it was clearly made for him, it was his place of power. You had no real reason to be here, and yet he made sure to keep you alive until you got here.

The next thing you can’t help but question was that woman you had briefly encountered just moments ago. Kenjaku. That’s what Sukuna had called her. Something about her still made your stomach twist uncomfortably, just knowing she was within range of you at any given time the longer she lingered here. Her words had left you anxious, why did she take such a keen interest in you?

Was it purely because she was excited by the idea that the impervious Sukuna had found someone, a human no less, to protect? You doubted he actually even wanted to protect you. He seemed like the type of man to play with his food before he devoured it.

“You think much too loud.” Sukuna huffs from the pathway that leads to the hot spring, you glance over to him to see that he had changed out of his own dirty trousers into a haori that was definitely made to his size. It’s a rich black material that hangs over his shoulders, tied loosely around the waist and the lower you travel you realise he’s wearing nothing beneath it.

So he was planning on bathing too.

In his hands is a folded material, another haori you realise that’s similar to his own. He places it onto a rock near the hot spring before starting to untie the loose belt holding his haori together. You don’t say anything when he does undress himself, instead scooting to the side of the hot spring furthest away so that he wouldn’t end up touching you on his way in.

The silence that descends upon the hot spring this time is very different to that first encounter. There’s a mutual understanding now amongst the both of you, you had an unspoken bond — if you could call it that. Sukuna still relaxes back against his side of the hot spring, two of his large arms propped over the edge and his head tilted back. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence.

Instead, he sits up for a moment before dousing himself in the hot water. It rolls off in thin rivers along his face and down the centre of his chest, large hands comb through pinkish hair that turns the water a light crimson from just how much blood was still nestled in there. You watch silently as he reaches over towards where he had entered, and you find that he had brought along a washcloth.

He doesn’t offer it to you, because of course he doesn’t, but instead, he washes himself with it. He doesn’t comment on if the fact you’re watching him is bothersome, but you can’t help but feel your fingers twitch when he starts to miss patches of skin that he can’t reach – even with four arms.

“Master Sukuna?” You ask quietly, and your response is a rumbling hum deep in his chest that’s asking you to continue. “May I?”

Crimson eyes snap to you suddenly, and you’re frozen into place with just one hand raised as if you were going to take the cloth away from him. He’s scrutinising you, eyes dancing between your outstretched hand and your face. Slowly he extends the cloth out for you to take, and you pluck it from his hands.

He continues to watch you as you slowly approach, the milky water obscures most of your body but you can’t help but feel like he’s seeing every part of you. You sidle yourself up next to him on a raised rock that serves as a seat, and being this close to him makes your heart pound in your chest.

Sukuna had always had a suffocating aura but it was entirely different when you were stripped bare. But you had offered to do this, and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of scaring you out of making sure he was cleaned properly.

With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw and you can feel the muscles jump when he clenches his teeth together at the touch. Beneath the water you can feel the ripple of an arm that raises to catch you, to stop you from daring to touch his face. He doesn’t fight you when you carefully turn his face away from your own to reach the parts of his neck he couldn’t reach.

The cloth moves smoothly along expanses of skin that are covered in dark tattoos. They look like they hadn’t faded at all, how new were they? You drag the cloth once again over the tattoos to free it of any grime, you had no experience with tattoos or how they were healed but it looked like these were brand new – a year at the most.

Had he only been branded a criminal for a year or less? Who was he before all of this?

“What’s on your mind?” Sukuna rumbles, his voice vibrating against the free hand that you have pressed to his jaw to hold him in place. It sends a thrill down your spine.

“I don’t think you’d want to answer.” You answer truthfully because you don’t think lying to him will do you any good. Especially not when you’re within range of both his claws and teeth.

“You speak as if you know how my mind works. I’m asking you to tell me.”

You look at him for a moment longer, before you gently turn his face back towards you and a little to the side so you can expose the side of his neck. His eyes feel like they’re trying to burn through your very skin, still judging every minuscule movement you make. He’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“I wanted to know if Sukuna had always been your name.”

He’s silent in response, you’d assume he was going to ignore you entirely if you didn’t spare a glance up towards his face to see that his face was completely relaxed; almost softened around the edges. He doesn’t protest when you direct his head back to wash his hair more thoroughly than he had, you wring the cloth once you had dipped it into the hot water over his head.

You work your fingers back through his hair, continuing to pour water over it whilst working out the smaller knots of dried blood and other bodily matter that you didn’t want to think about. It’s a peaceful quiet that draws over the both of you, save for the sound of you pouring water over his head every now and again.

“Ryoumen Sukuna.” He mutters once you get to the back of his head, working through the shorter hairs. Another pour of water has his words vanishing beneath the splash.

“Hm?” You ask, leaning back to look at him properly. You meet his gaze almost immediately, and he seems almost troubled.

“You asked for my name, it was Ryoumen Sukuna. But no one calls me Ryoumen anymore.” Ryoumen. The name doesn’t ring any bells to you from your past, you don’t recall any great family having the name Sukuna nor did anyone have the name Ryoumen.

It didn’t answer your question as to who he was before he became Master Sukuna but it was a small win in your books.

“I see.” You nod your head, a smile on your face. “Thank you for telling me.”

Sukuna just hums in response to your gratitude, you give him a glance over and deem him clean enough that you start to pull away. Maybe he’d even let you use the cloth on yourself to scrub at your skin—

A hand clamps itself around your wrist just as you start to turn away, it comes with an abrupt tug and you’re forced to stand between Sukuna’s spread thighs. He’s staring down at you along the broadness of his nose, and it’s that same look from the previous time he had you cornered in the spring. He’s looking through you.

“Tell me what really happened in that fight with the sorcerer.”

His question was a complete 180 change from the previous line of questioning you had opened up with him. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, you had told him the bare bones of what had happened.

“The Samurai had used some sort of energy against me and–”

“Not what he did. I don’t care about what he did.” His grip tightens on your wrist a little, forcing you closer to his body. “What did you do?”

“I used your Naginata.” You told him this already, why was he pressing for the fine details? “And… and I somehow blocked his attacks, I thought he was quicker than me but he wasn’t.”

“So you do have potential.” He surmises to himself, the tip of his thumbnail digs into your forearm when he grabs you a little firmer. “You just have no idea what it is, do you?”

You shake your head, no, you had no idea what ‘it’ could be. You know there’s more to the world than meets the eye, the cursed spirits you had encountered were just a fraction of it.

“If I were to offer you the chance to become stronger, would you take it?”

He’s looking at you with a different intensity now, a hunger that you’ve seen before bubbling in his blood. It reminds you of when you had seen him in his element, and whilst it was hardly a fight for him in terms of power, it was mesmerising to watch.

So would you? Would you take the chance to become stronger? The goal you had promised yourself so many moons ago is still at the forefront of your mind, you hadn’t given up on the chance to be the one who kills Ryoumen Sukuna but you knew in your current state, you would never be capable of doing it.

He was offering it to you on a silver platter.

“Yes.” You answer in a hushed whisper with no hesitation. Because yes, you would take the chance to become stronger.

Sukuna grins then, with sharp teeth and evil intentions. “Then I want to make a binding vow with you.”

“A binding vow?”

“It’s a vow that must be honoured by both parties, if one were to break it then they’d be faced with their demise.” He hums, the thumbnail that was digging into your skin is now drawing patterns into your skin. “So now that you know what it is, will you agree to one?”

“That depends on what you want.” Your eyebrows furrow together, and Sukuna laughs quietly at your quick tongue.

“Smart.” He adjusts his hold, another hand coming to grab at your side and you’re suddenly rooted in place when he sits up from his slightly slouched position. “Then allow me to lay down the rules.”

A hand raises from the water, a single finger raised. “One. I will make you one of the strongest sorcerers of this era, you will comply with my lessons.” A second finger raises. “Two. You in return, when the time is right, will lend me the power I have given you.”

What did he mean by that? Was he intending on training you to then use you as a weapon in his arsenal? You turn your gaze away from his unnerving one, instead focusing on the flakes of snow that have settled all around you. The ‘binding vow’ had said nothing about you harming him, you could do what he asked and then you’d be able to kill him with your newfound strength.

“Well? Does the dove agree with the terms laid in front of her?”

You meet his gaze again, and he grins again when you square your shoulders. “I do.”

And then that grin grows malicious, the hand around your wrist clamps down far too tightly until you feel your skin burning beneath his bruising grip. Automatically, you try to push him off of you but he keeps you trapped between his thighs with the help of his many hands.

“No need to run. You’ve made a vow with me, and I intend on honouring my side of it.”

Sukuna is rough with the way he pulls you into his chest, now holding your burning wrist above the water in the air. It still burns even in the cold brisk wind, as if Sukuna’s hand was made of molten lava. He only watches with mild amusement at the way you struggle to free yourself when he loops two large arms around your back to keep you pressed into his chest.

The realisation that you’re both completely naked beneath the water and now chest-to-chest is jarring, it makes your heart stutter in your chest and your lungs seize up in fear. He had you in a very vulnerable position, he could do anything to you and you’d be in no position to stop him.

His giant hand holding your forearm slides upwards until it engulfs your own quickly, the tips of his claws clink together when he squeezes your hand to ensure you weren’t going anywhere. You hesitate to look at what he had done to your arm when he gripped it with such force, but alas, your curiosity beats your rational mind.

Around your wrist is a thick band of a tattoo, very similar to his own. It makes your heart sink into your stomach.

“Now, you’ll never forget our vow. Your heart, your soul, it belongs to me.”

That sentence alone has your heart sinking into the bottomless pit that formed in your stomach. Maybe the terms of the agreement were so vague for this very reason; he wanted a loophole. He tricked you into a bargain with someone much worse than the Devil.

Sukuna seems delighted with the fact you’re mortified with the realisation, you gave him just what he wanted. His fingers unfurl your fingers slowly until his fingers slide between your own to entwine his hand with yours, his hand is far larger than your own.

“For your first lesson, I want you to try and control your cursed energy.” A hand below the water starts to explore the expanse of your back, black claws dipping into the curve of your spine occasionally. “You have no control over it. You practically ooze with how untamed it is, it’s rather distracting.”

You had no idea that you were even doing such a thing, surely you would notice if you were ‘oozing’ cursed energy so much that it became distracting for others, surely there’d be some tell—... You freeze in the water, a realisation slowly drawing over your face.

“Can cursed spirits sense it too?” You ask quietly, and Sukuna only grins wider.

“You’re catching on, but you’re not entirely right either. You see, your emotions are a very big factor with cursed energy… and you’ve been oh-so miserable the last few weeks that you’ve caused quite a stir.”

Your emotions. Your mind flits back to the darkness, the shadows and the thing that lived there. It wasn’t there when you were first thrown inside, it had manifested sometime during the second day when you realised no one was coming back for you. You had made that… thing.

“So, to circumvent that. You’ll need to learn to control it.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you meet his predatory gaze once again. “How do I control something I didn’t know I even had?”

Sukuna sighs heavily as if you asked a ridiculous question, his fingers squeeze your palm uncomfortably hard for a moment before he relaxes. “Tell me where you believe negative emotions reside.”

You thought about that for a moment. Whenever you had a bad feeling about something, it was always in the pit of your stomach. When you were sad, it felt like a hollow void in the centre of your chest. When you felt anger, it bubbled in the depths of your gut until it felt like it was in your throat.

“My stomach.”

The man before you tsks quietly, as if he were scolding a child. “That line of thinking is why most sorcerers are weak.”

Sukuna shifts in front of you, another hand touches your body but this time it rests on your outer thigh. His last remaining hand slides up along your stomach, the back of his knuckles pressing into the flesh as if it test just how soft it was beneath his touch. It makes you squirm, to be touched in such a way felt wrong — but not in a way you were expecting. It made your toes curl uncomfortably against the rough rock beneath you.

“View your body as different sections. Instead of pooling all of this energy into one place like your stomach, separate your energy evenly.” His hands move with his words, the fingers at your back press into the small of your back, the ones at your thigh dig into the flesh and the ones at your stomach brush upwards until they rest at your sternum.

“If you can learn to do that, you’ll be stronger than anyone who dares to face you.”

You suck in a breath slowly when those same fingers brush back down along your sternum, brushing delicately against the exposed skin of your stomach. You focus on ‘spreading’ your energy, even if you’re not quite sure just what it is he’s looking for. It reminds you briefly of the time when Kiso had taught you breathing techniques to keep up with your stances, to help you move as fluidly as possible.

Sukuna laughs at your attempt. “You won’t master it in a day. Not whilst you still hold so tightly to those Samurai beliefs of yours.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You snip back a little too quickly, and the glowing red of Sukuna’s eyes grows a little bit brighter at the feisty tone you dare to use on him.

Those fingers across your body dig painfully into your skin, grabbing at your flesh until it pools between large fingers. “It has everything to do with it, you ignorant child.”

Your fingers holding his hand twitch unwillingly, digging your nails fruitlessly into the back of his hand as if that would do anything to convey your annoyance. Instead, it only makes Sukuna tilt his head in a condescending manner.

The warmth between your clamped hands continues to grow hotter and hotter by the second, and yet it does not burn your skin like it had when he first grabbed your wrist to brand you. Sukuna hardly gives your joined hands a glance when he notices the shift in temperature, his main focus is settled on your face.

His words bounce around your head, an ignorant child is what he called you. You were anything but ignorant or a child, you weren’t an official Samurai of course but you were still brought up that way. You had honoured that for so long, and to be accused of it being a hindrance now…? It only served to piss you off.

You think about what he had said about cursed energy, to focus all of that emotion into separate areas. But all you could focus on was the hand he was holding tightly in his iron grip, you wanted him to let go. You’ll make him let go.

Sukuna clicks his tongue when he feels the burst of cursed energy in your fist, and he moves much faster than you anticipated as he uncurls his hand from yours only to grab at your wrist and aim your hand away. It comes with a loud bang, a burst of energy that was too raw.

There’s a second delayed resounding boom, this time distantly and you look away from Sukuna to assess just what had happened. The entirety of the wall next to you had been decimated as if something large had been thrown through it. It was nowhere near as refined as the blue-eyed Samurai you had run into but it was a similar type of damage.

“You have far too much energy inside of you to be wasting it like a petulant child. If you do not adhere to the vow, I will ensure it’s you who suffers the consequences of breaking it.”

The biting cold stings at your now exposed palm, and Sukuna doesn’t fight to hold your arm in the air when you pull it back to assess the damage. Your palm looks like it had been dipped into burning oil, the skin is blistered along your palm and blood drips from the tips of your fingers.

“Let this be a lesson as to why you’ll remain weak if you don’t listen to me.” His hands are no longer touching your body, that bruising grip is replaced with just the warmth of the water. “You’ll only be useful to me if you’re strong enough. If I find you weak and useless… then perhaps I’ll allow Kenjaku to take you.”

Those words pool real dread in your stomach. You had no idea just who or what Kenjaku really was, she wasn’t as monstrous as Sukuna sure but there was something about her that terrified you.

So you shake your head no, dropping your chin down towards your chest. “I’ll listen.”

Sukuna hums, as if he doesn’t quite believe you before there’s a rush of water and he’s standing up much too close. You fall back into the water with a squeak, the blistered palm meets the hot water and it’s as if you had again dipped your hand into burning oil. It burns at the skin until it pops and blisters again.

By the time you’re back on your own two feet in the water, Sukuna has draped himself in the haori he had arrived in. “Finish your bath quickly. Unless you wish to stay out here for the rest of the night and freeze. I don’t care.”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, already walking back along the path that led back into the temple. He disappears into a different door however than the one you had come through, it’s on the right and oversees a good portion of the small garden you find yourself in. His personal quarters? That’d make the most sense. He seemed to enjoy being the furthest away from anyone else.

Your hand continues to throb as you hold it over the water, the blood had been washed off some in the fall back into the water but the blisters still remain swollen and raw. Maybe if you asked nicely enough, he’d give you something to wrap it in to avoid infection. Speaking of, your entire body shivers at a particular rough gust of wind that blows itself against your back.

It’s enough to get you wading through the hot water and clambering out the side, you look at the material Sukuna had left here. It definitely was for you then. You unfold it carefully, and you were correct to assume it was a haori very similar to his own. It was much smaller, thankfully, and that only begged the question as to just where he had got this from.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so you quickly wrap it around yourself to scurry off after Sukuna’s large wet footprints on the stone path to seek a warm place to sleep for the night. You hesitate however once you reach his door, it’s just as foreboding as the one that led to his throne room but not nearly as big. Was it just his energy alone that filled anyone nearby with utter fear?

“Linger any longer and I’ll ensure you never leave that spot again.” He barks from the other side of the door. You don’t doubt he means it when he threatens you like that, so you slide open the door to hastily shut it behind you when another gust of wind blows in small flakes of snow along the wooden floor.

It’s mostly dark inside the room. The only light is coming from a lit fire on the other side of the room, it’s in a lowered hearth. It gives just enough light for you to map out the layout, you spot the bed first. It’s just as large as the one in the first shrine, if not just a little more lavish. It’s still a futon on a raised platform but this one is shrouded in sheer curtains that hang from the ceiling, quite the picture of royalty.

The room itself is quite large, on the opposite side of the room from the bed is a large bookcase that spans the entirety of the wall. It’s made of a thick black wood, painted so beautifully that you don’t doubt he had someone hand paint it. The books that line it are old, much older than anything you had seen, in languages you don’t recognise when your eyes scour over the titles.

The man that occupies the room however is sitting atop a zabuton cushion, his body language tells you he’s completely relaxed. His arms aren’t crossed over his chest whilst he flicks through some old book. His face is lacking any real emotion. You’d even reach to say he looked tired.

It almost feels like you’re intruding on his space.

“Where am I to sleep tonight, Master Sukuna?” His eyes drift towards you slowly, and that tired expression on his face deepens with whatever thoughts he may be having.

“Here.” He says it so offhandedly it catches you by surprise. Your eyebrows raise, you hadn’t expected him to allow you to sleep in here – it was his room after all. “Don’t act so surprised. I don’t trust Kenjaku enough to not do something to you.”

You suppose that made some sense, but surely the mark on your arm was enough to tell even Kenjaku that you “belonged”—the word nearly makes you shiver—to Sukuna.

You clear your throat, pushing away the flusteredness that settles into your chest. “But what about y–”

“I don’t sleep. Not anymore. Use the bed, and get some rest.” He dismisses you by returning his eyes back to his book, one hand tucking beneath his chin to support his head whilst two hands work to flip the pages and simultaneously hold it.

It’s unnerving to sleep in the same room as him. Of course, you had slept around him before, but that was out in the wilderness. It felt less… personal than it does now. To sleep in another person's bed, a man's bed, was intimate. You don’t even recall the last time you slept in the same bed as your husband after he had pushed you away.

Sukuna doesn’t comment on the fact you seem to hover for a second in the plane of uncertainty, he doesn’t even look your way when you take steps towards the futon and onto the platform that houses it. The large curtains brush to the side before you lower your knees onto the soft material.

You practically sink into it with how soft it is, it feels much like how you imagine a cloud would if you could touch it for the briefest of seconds. The marvel at just how soft the bed is enough to distract you from the pair of eyes that flick up from the book to watch you paw your way around the large bed.

It’s gigantic. Of course it is. It could probably fit five or six of you in here comfortably. Slipping beneath the futon cover, you make sure to keep your haori as tightly bound to your body as possible, you could’ve asked for a change of clothes but perhaps you were already pushing your luck by forcing Sukuna to keep guard whilst you slept.

You sink down into the pillows, and it’s as if the exhaustion of the past week hits you with the force of a bull. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open, the ceiling above you darkens with each blink of your eye. But something is stopping you from sleeping, a nagging feeling at the back of your mind to look in the direction of the man who’s been both your saviour and nightmare in such a short amount of time.

Sukuna is looking down at his book when you do end up rolling onto your side to observe him, his lower set of eyes are completely closed and you’re certain they’re sleeping. So much for not needing to sleep, huh? His body is slightly slouched, he was definitely in need of proper rest and for some reason it was tugging at your heartstrings.

“Master Sukuna?” You whisper into the frigid darkness of the room, only the flickering light of the fire from the hearth providing you enough to see Sukuna when he raises his head just a little to address you. “Will you join me?”

Those red eyes stare at you for a long tense moment, you start to worry that perhaps you crossed an unspoken boundary. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, each of his muscles is drawn tight as if he’s ready to pounce across the room and rip you apart limb from limb.

Except… his muscles slowly relax again, and his body sinks further into the cushion before he gives a shake of his head.

“I told you to get some rest. It’d be wise to listen to my words instead of trying to entice me into bed with you.” His words are brash, and they make your skin set alight in what might be embarrassment but something else lingers just beneath that — something unspeakable.

“I–!” You splutter, bringing the futon up to beneath your nose when Sukuna lets out a low rumble of a laugh. “I meant to sleep!”

Sukuna simply rests his cheek against an enclosed fist, head tilted so he can observe you clearly with a lazy grin on his face. “I don’t believe you.”

You want to screw your face up and shout at him for being so absurd but you can’t find it within you to argue with him. So you flip yourself over instead to keep your back to him, and again Sukuna laughs at you but it doesn’t feel as malicious as it once had.

“Sleep well, dove. You’ll need it.” He offers into the quiet of the night.

“...Goodnight, Sukuna.” He doesn’t reply, nor does he reprimand you for leaving out his respected title. Instead, you listen to the gentle crackle of the hearth, the flipping of old pages every now and again and the whistling gust of wind that continues to batter against the door.

It’s much easier to slip beneath the gentle blanket of sleep that washes over you, with your nose unknowingly pressed into the pillow that smells so familiar — a soft flowery scent, not overly sweet but fresh, it mixes well with an underlying musk that has your eyelids too heavy to lift anymore until finally… you’re asleep.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #banner artwork is official game art for ghost of tsushima made by ian jun wei chiew

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sad-endings-suck · 3 months

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blue eye samurai popped off so hard in every department, but this post specifically is a shoutout to the character designers who manage to put so much personality, life, and uniqueness into each and every character to create a signature art style, while still maintaining realistic-like proportions and features that are more reminiscent of live action than animation.

not a single character with speaking lines or more than 3 secs of screen-time looks anything like any other character unless it’s intentional (i.e. resemblance between family members). not only are there so many different body types, but no one’s body is ridiculously proportioned. some characters are very thin (heiji), others are very large (shogun’s emissary), some are quite powerfully built (chiaki)… but then there’s everything else in between!! mizu is very lean and androgynous, and she definitely has muscles, but she’s not ridiculously skinny, nor does she greatly lack softness in her torso, hips, and chest. mizu very much has a woman’s body, her proportions are just not exaggerated to make her look overtly masculine or overtly feminine. unlike some other animes that would absolutely give mizu ridiculously defined muscle mass and 8-pack abs, or maybe a 10 inch waist and huge boobs (that she magically hid completely with some diy fabric bindings and a dream) and then credit those choices to “art style”.

ringo is on the bigger softer side physique-wise, and his body is a perfectly normal human body that any normal person may potentially have! akemi and taigen are both conventionally attractive within the story, but even still, neither is the perfect personification of masculine or feminine “beauty”. yes akemi is very petite and slim, with a more hourglass shape, but she still very much has a body type that some real people naturally have. she has a stomach! and i don’t mean that she has a protruding stomach, i just mean her stomach actually exists. so does mizu’s, even if they both have small flat stomachs, they still very much don’t have itty bitty anime waists. though they are both slender women, they have actual room for organs and ribs in their torsos!! or on the other end of things, there’s taigen, who may be very athletically built, but again, it’s not to an impossible degree or standard. he still very much has the build of a real human person, not a comic book hero with a 12-pack. even fowler, who is on the heavier-set side (presumably from his lifestyle, surviving famine, etc) also has strength to his build that many other characters do not, indicating he does keep up with his training and is very much physically dangerous.

and that’s just the body diversity! we are shown characters and character models of young adults, mature adults, babies, seniors, young children, older children, teens, etc. women in their 40s/50s/60s (madame kaji, lady itoh, “mama”).

hell, the fact that the art style can be so consistent throughout, and yet akemi looks like she’s been rendered in watercolours, whereas taigen appears as if he’s been painted with acrylic is crazy!! or how well the show is able to convey that mizu very much looks like a woman, yet it also convincingly shows us how she’s able to pass as a man through a slew of details is amazing. such as her more androgynous features, her height, a scarf to hide her lack of adam’s apple, hat to conceal her features, orange tinted glasses the cancel out the blue of her eyes, baggy pants and boxy top to hide her silhouette, poncho and sword positioned to give the illusion she takes up more space in the world LIKE A MAN WOULD and so much more.

It’s just so beautiful to see, not only because it speaks to the skill of the creatives and the level of care and attention to detail with which this story was clearly made, but also because it proves you don’t have to “choose” between a distinct art/animation style and diversity. by combining animation and live action, and using the best aspects of both, blue eye samurai has managed to capture something that no other animated production I’ve seen, has (no, not even arcane). and that is allowing the personhood and character of a live action actor/model to come through in the character they are portraying. no matter how much beautiful animation i watch, there is almost always some level of “default” face, body type, height, or facial features that are consistent across every character, and blue eye samurai proves that this is not just due to “art style”. it’s a limitation of the medium of animation (to an extent), or at least, it was.

we live in an era where plastic surgery, photo/video retouching, workout supplements, trendy scheme diets, beauty consumerism, etc, are at an all time high. so it’s such a relief to see an animated project of all things choose to reflect real human appearances in its work, and not only that, but do so without ever commenting on it. as an animated project, it could “beautify” its characters as much as it likes to make them all same-face/same-body conventionally attractive, and excuse it as their “art style”. but blue eye samurai does not do that. they said “no, we can do better. we can do way better” and they did. the way bes is shot leaves no room for women (or anyone) to be sexualized or objectified, regardless of how much nudity and sex there is in the show. it demonstrates that sexuality and sexualisation are in no way inherently synonymous. there are no unnecessary comments about a character’s body that feel off or not in tune with the social perceptions of the time period in which the story is set. it’s just amazing to see.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #taigen blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #fowler blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai art #blue eye samurai animation #bes mizu #bes akemi #bes taigen #bes ringo

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robinsboobshoes · 7 months

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❝ MEETING ROBIN BUCKLEY. ❞

↳ In which you flirt through your mutual friend, Steve.

Everything is all vividly coloured, with neon-coloured lights, water fountains, crowded tables and various children's rides, like the carousel and the Indiana Flyer. People are packing everywhere, all with brightly lit expressions stretching across their faces, following along with family and friends in huddles. The town of Hawkins is already a hellhole, with or without a new mall, and nothing can possibly change that.

Your eyes darted around, hoping to find the potential ice-cream shop you'd heard about. Your search quickly ends, once you see a brightly coloured store, with a red lettering sign reading: Scoops Ahoy!

You got to the store with unexpected difficulties, after pushing countless people out of the way and getting some foul words and looks in return. Already, you can hear some outstandingly cheesy sailor music playing loudly, making your nose scrunch up in disgust.

The interior is somehow worse. The walls are covered with blue, red and white striped wallpaper while seating booths are placed around the ice-cream parlour, red leathered and shiny. It was quite shocking to you that it was almost empty, since, Starcourt Mall had just opened. Logically, wouldn't people crowd around an ice-cream parlour on a summer morning?

You walked up to the counter to find Steve, a tall teenager your age, with styled hair and an ego too large for anyone to handle. You hit your hand on the bell that's on the corner of the front counter, causing Steve to bring his attention back to reality, rather than dozing off in his thoughts mid-task.

“Ahoy!” Steve greets from the register, not bothering to look up from whatever he had been occupied by.

“Wow, this place really complements the look." You taunted, smirking, when he finally spots you. The sailor theme is rather hilarious.

“Y/n?” Steve smiled, leaning on the counter as he takes you in, “What’re you doing here so early? My shift doesn't finish for hours.”

“I needed to kill some time,” You shrug, “I thought I'd pay my favourite sailor a visit.”

Steve puffs, opening his mouth to respond. But, before he can say anything, another voice pipes up from around the corner. It's raspy, laced with sarcasm.

“He’s only your favourite sailor because you haven’t met me yet," At the hatch behind Steve is a tall girl with broad shoulders, a tall figure and a careless posture. She has her hands placed on the further counter, while she starts twirling a black ring around her middle finger. She has black bracelets and a watch on one wrist, a spiked bracelet on the opposite. Both hands are painted with black nail polish, which shine in the light, presumably because they are newly painted. She was, like Steve, also dressed in a ridiculous uniform, which she somehow made look attractive. “I promise I’m much better company.”

“Well, you certainly look better in the uniform.” You look her up and down, chuckling, as she returns a flirtatious grin.

Steve looks pathetic as he starts running a hand down the front of his ludicrous smock, “I think I make this thing work pretty well for me.”

The girl scoffs, wide-eyed, “The loser board says otherwise, Dingus.” She calls, pointing at the whiteboard that's propping up next to her. The board is split in two: one side had, "You Rule!" written above it, and, the opposite side, "You Suck!". With no surprises, The 'You Rule!' side has no marks below it, whereas the other has a large amount of five drawn on.

You laugh at this, fingers tapping against the glass of the countertop, as you look at the board, then back to her, “Things can only go downhill when he’s forced to use words.”

She laughs with you briefly, then taps her name badge with her finger, "I'm Robin, in case you didn't know. Robin Buckley."

You raise your left eyebrow, "I do recall being in most of your classes, y'know. Just because I hang around with Steve doesn't mean I'm a complete moron."

Steve pouts from where he stands, arms crossing defiantly over his chest, “This is not a duo I'm here for at all. I think we should have a rule that you two are not allowed within thirty feet of each other."

“You always try to keep me away from the pretty ones." You roll your eyes, lips set into a smirk as she watch Robin’s cheeks turn a dark shade of strawberry red. For someone with such a tough attitude, she sure was easy to fluster.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “—I hate fighting for your attention. You make me feel like a fool when around ladies with you.”

“I'm sorry," You shrug your shoulders, "Must be a weakness of mine.” You breath a laugh once more, glancing over at Robin, who was already staring.

“Are you flirting with me through Steve right now?" Robin starts shaking her head in disbelief, "Is that what’s happening? — Because, if you are, I’m disappointed in myself that it’s working.”

Steve swiftly turns to you, “My charms have rubbed off on her! She's like a charm-sucking vampire. She’s the reason I can’t get any girls.” He rants, pausing with wide eyes as if he’d came to some great realization, “It all makes sense now...”

“The only thing I’ve gotten from being around you is brain damage.” You respond, with a playful eye roll.

Robin purses her lips and places a hand to her hip, feeling a surge of confidence, "If you want to ever flirt without proxy..." She pulls a black pen from her pocket, then holds out one of her soft hands to take one of yours. You slide yours into her palm without hesitation, both of you sharing a smile.

She quickly finishes scribbling her phone number to the back your hand, her warm fingers brushing across your skin. You feel a small shiver briefly down your spine, throwing you slightly off guard. Robin stands back with a pleased smile, "Call me?"

You smile softly, nodding your head, "Consider it already done."

♡︎♡︎♡︎

first fic here, kiiinda nervous... (is the robin fandom still active on tumblr?¿!) interactions are appreciated! 🫶🏻

#robin buckley #robin buckley headcanon #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #maya hawke #wlw #wlw love #fanfic #steve harrington

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total-drama-brainrot · 2 months

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i don't know if you've done this and I've missed it somehow, but i'm wondering how the rest of the cast outside of team e-scope extended acts towards noah when its revealed by heather and alejandro that noah was lying through his teeth during the cheating arc, especially since you implied that they went out of their way to treat him horribly. are they remorseful at all? do they try and apologize or does secret agent izzy even let them close to him? i really really like how you and perpetualexistence had expanded on that concept by solaiurm

I don't think neither me nor Perp have covered how the rest of the cast reacts to Noah being revealed to not be a cheater, outside of their initial reactions as the peanut gallery in the World Tour finale. So I'm more than happy to throw some ideas at the wall here- hopefully some of them stick!

For starters, it wasn't implied that Noah was treated horribly by the rest of the cast. It was outright stated. That's the bread and butter of his "cheater arc"- being vilified by both the general public at large and by the cast he's forced to cohabitate, despite not actually being a cheater. Which he only makes worse for himself by playing himself up as the villain during his segment on the Aftermath.

When Gwen has her initial segment in the canon Aftermath, she's dubbed "the New Heather" and pretty ostracised by the rest of the cast (at least until Trent sits next to her), but she's seemingly quickly forgiven for her own cheating scandal because she shows remorse for her actions/repeatedly tries to apologise to Courtney. In the same vein, Heather's treatment at the hands of the cast in Action and in the beginnings of World Tour is pretty poor. For good reason- she was a mega bitch in Island, and never truly apologised for a lot of her actions.

Why am I bringing this up? Note the difference in the casts' reactions. Gwen is quickly forgiven despite being a 'homewrecker' because she's remorseful and apologetic, whereas Heather is continually vilified because she isn't.

Noah isn't apologetic for 'cheating' on Heather and Alejandro. In fact, he's about as callous and assholish as possible during his Aftermath segment, in an attempt to really paint himself as 'the bad guy'.

Of course he's getting the Heather treatment- but it's worse, because he's stuck in the same hotel as these people, and he doesn't have the excuse of a million dollars to justify being an asshole. So the more proactive of the ex-competitors see Noah as free game to harass as they see fit- after all, he's a cheating scumbag, he deserves it right?

(And some of these guys can be downright vicious when they think it's justified- just look at how Harold was treated in S1E10, just for being an annoying roommate.)

So when it turns out that, oh, he didn't deserve it? That their awful treatment of Noah- the person who complains about anything and everything like it's his career, and yet didn't so much as utter a "Stop." at their harassment- was completely unbased? They're all pretty shook up by the turn of events.

It takes a lot of the ex-contestants a few days to process that they've practically outcast and exiled someone from their group for no real reason, and quite a few of them are angry- at Noah for lying, at Heather and Alejandro for playing along, At Chris and the producers for keeping it all hidden for the sake of drama, but mostly at themselves for jumping on the hate-train so easily. So for a few tense days the hotel is shrouded in this sombre atmosphere, where everyone is too hesitant to address the elephant in the room in fear of either blowing up at Alenoaheather, or Alenoaheather blowing up at them for the mistreatment.

The kinder of them, who perhaps didn't outright harass Noah but did give him the cold shoulder (i.e. DJ, Lindsay, Beth), meekly try to apologise to Noah, but are usually stopped by his partners' protectiveness or Secret Agent Secra before they can.

Geoff, I imagine, would be one of the biggest perpetrators of Noah's bullying; he's already shown a canonical inclination towards Getting A Little Silly Sometimes, plus with his and Bridgette's whole pseudo-cheating drama he'd be far more ruthless towards 'cheaters' than most, even if his dislike of Alejandro initially prompts him to commend Noah's actions. For all of this, however, Geoff is a pretty moral guy- he'd be the first to successfully apologise to Noah, by means of literally shouting across the breakfast hall as soon as he snuck walked in. (Noah's still in the habit of sneaking in and out of meals.)

Noah shrugs it off- he doesn't want to make a huge deal out of the situation, understandably- saying it wasn't a huge deal and that everyone was justified in thinking he was an awful person. That reassures everyone present that Alenoaheather don't hate them, and thus more people scamper to reconcile with them, bridging the metaphysical gap between both groups.

Geoff even ends up offering to throw a 'Noah isn't an awful person' party in his honour. Noah, of course, declines the offer. It doesn't stop Geoff from throwing the party anyway.

And that breaks the tentative ice between the peanut gallery and the throuple.

Similarly, I imagine Leshawna would also be very vocal about her distaste for Noah. She's always disliked him, thanks to his shoddy performance on Island and his sardonic personality, so him also being a two-timer is just the final nail in the coffin for him in Leshawna's eyes. Just like Geoff, though, Leshawna can and does admit when she's in the wrong, and she'd also do her best to make amends once the gap between Noah and the rest of the cast is bridged by Geoff.

Duncan, meanwhile, was team Noah the whole time which gives him major bragging rights. After he apologises to Courtney and Gwen, that is.

To summarise, the cast are kind of pissed about the whole 'lying' thing, but mostly just feel awful about how they treated him. Once things have been given time to settle, the air is eventually cleared and the Total Drama cast go back to their status quo. Something something happy ending?

#kind of want to make tyler noah's biggest hater just because i think it'd be really funny #and also to give my boy the screentime/plot relevance he deserves #apologies for the weak ending there #total drama #alenoaheather #fake dating au #silly ideas #replies

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starbylers · 7 months

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How Mike, Will & El's season 4 intro sequences are all connected (and what that says about the love triangle)

The first we see of Will is him painting. We know how significant that painting is, it’s a representation of his love for Mike. Literally his entire story this season.

The first shot we see of El begins with her “Mike box”, also an expression of her feelings towards Mike, a large part of her character arc this season. I think it’s important to notice that unlike Will, El isn’t actually shown working on the box; instead the first thing we see her doing is intently painting her Hopper figurine and facing the opposite direction.

Both of their intros are clearly a nod to their emotional conflicts involving Mike:

Will's is showing that he's trying to hide and express his feelings for Mike simultaneously. He's very visually obscured in these shots, and we obviously only see snippets of the painting, it's meant to create an atmosphere of secrecy—but at the same time there's super close-ups of his eyes/face and hands, which also gives an impression of intimacy. So we've got secrecy and intimacy as themes pertaining to his feelings surrounding this painting aka his feelings surrounding Mike.

El's is showing that she's idealising and romanticising her relationship; having a sort of shrine to her boyfriend proudly on display meanwhile we know she's a) been lying to him and b) is actually upset with him. Also, the mini Hopper she’s busy creating may be a hint as to what she really wants/needs emotionally underneath the showiness of her “love” for Mike i.e. having her dad back.

El & Will's intros are both visual representations of where their heads are at concerning romance aka concerning Mike. They're both keeping secrets but choosing different methods to cover them up. Will is more literally hiding; hiding his painting from El, hiding his feelings in the painting, whereas El is sort of embellishing and overcompensating for the unhappiness she's feeling about Mike (and life in general, including Hopper's death). Also, the very first thing we see both Will and El doing is painting but while Will’s is about his feelings towards Mike, El’s is about her (familial) feelings towards Hopper. I just thought that was an interesting comparison.

And then we have Mike. The pattern should follow that Mike’s intro shot/sequence is also a hint as to where he stands in this triangle, where he's at emotionally and mentally concerning his girlfriend and best friend. Or more specifically what secrets he is keeping about them, just as they are about him.

There he is…reading El’s letter...decorated with rainbows. We are shown literal rainbows (!!) right before the camera pans to his face. Where he is framed perfectly in the open closet.

Of course this stuff is well known already and the symbolic implications are obvious, but thinking about it in relation to Will & El’s intro sequences just makes it's significance even more clear. A few things:

Mike's face, in fact most of his body, is extremely obscured by shadow. This would be an odd choice for the very first shot of one of the main characters in the very first episode, if not symbolising that something about Mike is being hidden this season. And we know it has to be related to El & Will—they're his entire plot. Also it just tracks with the theme of secret-keeping established not just with El & Will but literally every other character on the show.

It's a letter from El sure, but as opposed to El & Will's intros we don't have any overt indicators of how he's feelings towards her. All we have is him reading meanwhile there’s rainbows right under his nose and a closet at the back of his head. Lol.

It’s more telling what Mike doesn't do, the stuff you have to pay attention to realise. In the next shot we see that unlike El he doesn't have a trace of her in his room, only the letter which he promptly crumples up and throws on the floor.

We see El's feelings towards Mike. We see Will's feelings towards Mike. And then we see Mike thoughtlessly discard El’s expression of feelings to him, whilst having no expression of his feelings toward her to speak of. Along with the 🚪/🌈 symbolism? Oh I can't wait for season 5.

#byler #I love how I said I was going to be less active and I’m still here churning out analyses #I need help

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ceofjohnlennon · 10 months

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"John might as well have worn a sandwich board announcing the end of the world, so clearly was he dressed for attention. His jeans were the tightest anywhere – he only got out of Mimi's house by wearing a pair of flannels over them, taking them off on his way to college and shoving them in a shoulder bag – and he had a long, frocked black jacket, like a Mississippi gambler. He wore it all with a swagger, with self-assurance camouflaging all his insecurities. Stuart, who adopted his own individual style, dressed for himself – who but a few intimates would see his red underpants? Stuart was impressed by him, and even more so when he heard about John's group, the Quarrymen, named after the Quarry Bank High School that John and the original band members had attended. But the band was not the main attraction. John was overtly anarchic, whereas Stuart's anarchy was expressed by pushing artistic boundaries, painting large works when he should have been doing small-scale material. Stuart's rebellion was mostly acceptable, whereas John's sometimes wasn't. We are all shocked and appalled by wild behaviour, but we are also excited and fascinated by it. John was also very, very funny. Stuart loved that and could keep up with it. There was a lot of banter between them, each of them always trying to get the better line. Once, round at our house, John said to me, 'You know, your brother's a little genius.' I got back quickly, 'He thinks you're a big genius.' His smile embraced me. John was also very dangerous, and there is a kind of excitement about that too. That unpredictability. In their banter John could be very cruel but, like a strong parent, Stuart contained that, which also made John feel safe."

ㅡ From the book "The Beatles' Shadow" by Pauline Sutcliffe.

#john lennon #50s #1957 #1958 #stuart sutcliffe #pauline sutcliffe #the beatles shadow #my:read

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melrosing · 9 months

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Do you have any thoughts on Joffrey? Or headcannons or a take on him which you don’t see often?

I don’t have a lot of thoughts on Joffrey tbh. like I think if I were the one writing him I probably would’ve made him a bit more of a nurture over nature case, whereas I think GRRM does certainly make the case for a nurture component in making Joffrey what he is….. but it sounds like it’s largely nature. the thing with the cat is a classic ‘baby murderer’ trope, obviously included to say there was always something not right w this kid lol

I do find the case for nurture more interesting even if GRRM doesn’t lean into it so much. I suppose it goes that Cersei treated the cat incident like he’d been finger painting on the wall, whilst Robert knocked teeth out his infant skull for it. the both of them have taught him violence, Cersei by condoning and encouraging what Joffrey did, and Robert by physically attacking Joffrey and then of course having no real skills besides violence.

I do also find Joffrey kind of interesting in that he’s like the embodiment of what Cersei thinks a king should look like, but then with all the pitfalls, too. like he has the curls and the flashy armour and unfettered power which are everything Cersei thinks will make him safe, but really everything she encourages in Joffrey is what ultimately destroys him. he’s a façade of a king with no true friends and no love from his people, and everything that’s glamorous about him people only resent for the lie it is. his death as good as tells her that her outlook going to get she and her children killed, and she just doubles down :-|

#ask #joffrey baratheon #cersei lannister #cw child abuse

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choicesficwriterscreations · 9 months

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August MC of the Month: Jensen Valentine

Please welcome our sixth MC of the month! Each month, we will highlight one MC or OC that is currently on our Meet My MC / OC List. The MC / OC is selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month's MC of the month is...

@mydemonsdrivealimo's Jensen Valentine

In your words, tell us what you like most about your MC.

What I like most about Jensen is his resilience. He has never been dealt the perfect cards, or even good ones, at that, but that didn’t stop him from striving for great things. He hasn’t always been like that; some setbacks were worse than others, and he considered giving up, but he knew he couldn’t let himself do that. His intrinsic motivation to amount to something has usually been enough, but it’s also his interactions with other people that have helped him along. Some of them were good, sure, but, in all honesty, it’s usually the bad ones that kept him going.

A good example would be one of his med school professors, who publicly called Jensen out as the perfect example of what not to be like, citing how a man having painted nails shouldn’t be allowed in society, much less is it professional when going into the medical field. Jensen has never been one to sit quietly (no matter how many times it’s gotten him into trouble), and he wasn’t going to start. He pressed that professor, asking him what his evidence was, why he thought like that, and if he had any other reasons besides being a bigot who couldn’t handle seeing people different than himself. Not only that, but he also didn’t transfer from the class for the rest of the semester, making sure that the professor was as uncomfortable sharing flawed ideas as everyone else was hearing them.

The thought that there were still medical professionals out in the world who shared the same ideas the professor didn’t sit well with Jensen. No way could he let that slide when it came to patients and people seeking help, which was just another boost for him to keep going and try to make the changes he wanted to see. Even though he has been knocked down, it’s never made him hide his personality or beliefs.

Do you feel your MC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

Jensen and I definitely share the same demeanor, especially around how people treat others. People making others feel small, for any reason and on any scale, is fucked up, and being an inactive bystander is never going to solve it. Especially knowing how American healthcare works, I knew I could never make Jensen someone who’s proud of how it currently runs and how it treats the patients. Though he is not the softest, or kindest, or sweetest, he would still do anything it takes to make some sort of change or impact, on a large scale or just one-on-one with a patient. I know I tend to come off in ways I don’t necessarily mean (it’s the rbf for the most part, lbr), and I wanted to reflect that in Jensen’s character, particularly in his day-to-day, as quiet and not-overly-optimistic characters are often synonymous with rude, brooding, or otherwise unapproachable, which is definitely not the case.

As for differences, Jensen is really like this cool, elevated, eloquent person, which is definitely Not me. I stumble through most things, and I hope I get spit out the other side more-or-less okay, whereas Jensen usually has a plan and, you know, thinks through things before he does them.

What is most important to your MC? What is their motivation in life?

What’s most important to Jensen is being able to use his position and the opportunities he’s been granted to help elevate other voices in the community and within certain issues he deems important. Being able to make more opportunities for other people, especially those who are or were in similar situations to himself when he was younger, is a big motivation for him. For most of his life, he was not in a place to be making any types of calls or really have anyone listen to him at all, and being granted such a high position within his career, and therefore his life, isn’t something he takes lightly. He has never been one to support how much power people with money or in high-ranking positions have because he knows what it's like to be on the bottom of that chain, and he knows he’s incredibly fortunate not to be in that position anymore, so he wants to able to use everything he’s been given to support others who need it or who are otherwise flushed out of “adult” conversations purely because they don’t fit the top 1%’s model.

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

Entitled people. Of course, he has some more petty ones, but if Anyone shows people disrespect for 1. No reason, or 2. A shitty reason, he’s going to have a problem with it, and he will be saying something to them about it. He has been the recipient of it many times growing up, and he knows it is never called for, nor does it have a good impact on anyone involved. Again, now that he is in a more respected position, rather than having his “turn” as the entitled one, he will continue to stand up for those who need it and speak out against the people who treat their power like a free pass to be a pos.

If your MC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Jensen has big aspirations, and while he’d like it to be the entirety of society, social standards, government, systemic bigotry, healthcare, etc. etc, I think being able to positively impact one person’s day is enough for him. During med school was when he really started carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but after the first few years at Edenbrook, he realizes it’s an impossible goal that will only lead him to disappointment. He will help where he can, but it’s nothing compared to reassuring a patient or getting them a life-changing diagnosis, surgery, or something else. Not every case has a happy ending, but being able to take any amount of worry away from someone makes it all worth it for him. Changing someone’s view of something into a more healthy and accepting lens, whether it be their life as a whole or even just something affecting their day, is one of the most rewarding things for him.

What is your MC’s favorite quote or song?

This was one of the hardest questions for me so I narrowed it down to a few options, and I think (one of) Jensen’s favorite song(s) would be Boring by The Brobecks. He most certainly would’ve seen it live while The Brobecks were still a thing, and though the lyrics are simple, it would’ve hit him at a very particular yet perfectly-timed place in his life.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC:

Being a fiction and original character writer at my core, I have poured pieces of myself into Jensen, and I have developed him during some of my worst and best moments (which, of course, changed the plot of his life). I went through many different phases and stories with him before ever joining the fandom, and years ago, when I first played Open Heart I never would’ve imagined it would end up on my hyperfixations list. I remember one night, at least two and a half years ago, I was up until 2 in the morning jotting down random backstories for him, running through the stages of his life in my head. I never looked at it again, never thought it would mean anything, and now here I am, at my one-year anniversary in the Open Heart fandom (August 2nd), with an almost completely different character that I love and think about every day.

The one thing that’s stayed the same though is how much he’s overcome. Though the struggles were very different in the beginning, his overall disposition has always been the same. He has been a loud activist for queer people and poc despite that it was never the most “convenient” for him, but he has also never been the sunshine character. Even through all the overhauls his character has been through, he has always been fighting for the same causes and has been using what he’s been given for good, which I wanted to share because it is arguably the most important part of his character. Even though he does not always have a smile on, doesn’t jump to be a part of every conversation, and doesn’t try to befriend everyone, he still cares just as much as anyone who does those things. It’s been fundamentally rooted in his character since day one, and it’s important to me that it gets seen.

#cfwc mc of the month #mc of the month #jensen valentine #open heart #mydemonsdrivealimo #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic

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