#(always feels super artificial to me if it makes sense)

[taichissu]

bitch why are the exams always in june i have so many gays to draw and write

[asumofwords]

Treat - Ettore x Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.1k

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

It was cold.

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

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

Your senses. 

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

Or perhaps it was the chill of being watched. 

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

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

So you were good.

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

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

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

Not much of a talker that one. 

But Ettore was worse. 

He barely even spoke a word. He just watched. 

Listened. 

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

Death sentence in your case. 

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

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

Because thats where he always was. 

The Box. 

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

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

His pale blue eyes would always find you.

Always.

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

It was hard. 

Not being able to touch anyone. 

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

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

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

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

Surely it wasn’t good for your body?

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

Unnatural.

But it was all unnatural.

And in some ways, better than death row.

Sometimes.

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

There was that cold again. 

It surrounded him like a wraith.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Dibs?

She was different.

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

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

Usually, it held one.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at her.

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behavioural issues and that.

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

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

What the hell?

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

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

Like clockwork.

Well, cycle really.

You hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God you missed the pub.

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

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

Lifting your head, you spotted Ettore watching you. 

Still.

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

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

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

But he didn't.

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

You watched her intently, mouth parted to argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps a lighter cycle this month.

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

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

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

Fingerprints. 

More specifically, finger marks, littered across your body. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed thickly.

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

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

Your heart leaped through your chest as you watched him.

-

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

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

“Something is-“

“-Vitamin D deficiency, Iron deficiency.”

“Fuck you. It looks li-“

“Take these.” 

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

“I don’t fucking-“

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

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

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

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

It could be so easy. 

Who would know it was you?

You could just-

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

"Fuck you."

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

"Fucking bitch."

Something was wrong, and you knew it. 

Fucking useless cunt.

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

You needed a release, and fast. 

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

All you needed was a good and rough fuck.

Get the anger out.

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

Choking.

The Box would calm you down.

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

Who else would be waiting outside of it but Ettore.

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

Shit eating bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shiver rolled through you.

Boyse watched you carefully, “You right?”

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

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

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

Proving a point.

Fucking cunt. 

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

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

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

Fucking pick-me.

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

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

Two sedatives.

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

But there was something about it. 

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

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

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

But fear scrambled in your throat.

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

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

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

You couldn’t get caught. 

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

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

So you had only gotten one pill out. 

No matter.

Better than both.

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

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

Some things are better left unsaid.

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

-

It’s dark. 

So dark.

And warm. 

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

Why was it so warm?

There was pressure. 

Pressure on top of you. 

Pressure inside of you.

A thing.

Or two.

Maybe three.

What?

The pressure turned to a dull ache. 

A pain.

Pleasure?

Why was it so warm?

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

The bed.

Soft sheets.

Grunts.

Weight.

Warm. 

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

Breaths in your ear that are not your own. 

Grunts.

Moans.

Hisses.

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

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

It was hard.

Hard to stay awake.

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

Heavy mind making it hard to comprehend.

Hard to see.

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

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

Atop you.

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

A face.

Ettore.

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

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

“Wha-“

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

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

Knowing. 

You knew now.

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

Was this a dream?

It felt too real. 

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

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

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

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

You bit down on his palm.

Hard.

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

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

How long had he been doing this?

How many times had he done this?

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

It also came from you.

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

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

From the pain. 

From the shock.

From the pleasure.

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

Another sob, mouth opened to cry out. 

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

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

It was all too much. 

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

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

He was near his end, and you were too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.” Another tap.

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

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

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

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

Knowing that he would.

And not minding it either.

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

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

[yaekiss]

i loved that aether fic! can you pls make him a yandere for us?

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Top! Reader x Sub! Yan! Bottom! Camboy! Aether, reader's dick can be read as strap, he steals your clothes, possessiveness from Aether, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: Thank you for enjoying the camboy!Aether work!! It was really interesting to brainstorm about how he would behave as a yan!camboy so I got a little carried away again hehe, hope you like the ramble ! ♡

Yandere!Camboy!Aether who’s not only a slut but a slut for you ♡ His affection for you stems from how you always secretly check in on him during your streams together. Your voice is low as you ask him if the pace is alright, if you can start moving, if the position is comfortable for him. And don’t even get him started on the aftercare. The amount of care you show him contrasted with how harshly you slam into him has his mind spinning, creating some twisted contorted lust-filled version of love that he just wants to shower you with.

It’s no doubt that he’s super sweet towards you off cam but I feel like he’d also be a bit of a pervert in this AU. Once, after a collab stream together, when you left the room to grab a drink, he leaps up at the opportunity to steal a piece of your undergarments before you return. He stashes it in a Ziploc bag he brought along specifically for this and immediately chucks it into his luggage, stored underneath some bulkier lighting or filming equipment so that you wouldn’t find it. The second he gets home, he's pressing it up to his face and inhaling your scent as he strokes himself. Aether’s probably also a yandere who would commission a dildo that matches your size so that he can fuck himself at home while crying out your name as he watches your streams. Tears well up in his eyes as he can’t seem to cum, the artificial blue light from his laptop unable to replicate the sheer warmth in your gaze every time you take him, your voice through his speakers is too crackly and nothing at all like how you would whisper and coo slyly into his ear. Poor baby :((

During collabs, Aether constantly battles with the dilemma of whether: 

1. On one hand, he wants the whole audience to see that only you could pound his brains out like this until he’s blubbering and whining out things that make no sense. No one else can make you feel as good as him, right? (In actual fact, you do stream with others apart from Aether, it’s just that he vehemently chooses not to watch them, scowling at the notification that pops up whenever you go live with someone other than him.) Every time you suck a hickey onto his skin, pure dopamine floods his mind. You’re leaving a mark on him-! Wahhh means you really do like him right? Right? Rightright? 🥹

2. He wants you to only focus on him, so no more of your pesky audience! Aether hates hates hates it when you look away from him to address your viewers. Whenever he watches you turn from him to face the camera, there’s a small ugly part of Aether that bristles as you address them so endearingly. Mind muddled with jealousy and lust and desire, he wants to scream, “Why do you need to ask them if they’re enjoying the view? Just look at me, am I not enough for you?” But he knows better than that, the both of you are streamers after all and he wouldn’t know what he’d do if you ever got mad at him for ruining a stream. What if you never want to stream with him ever again? What if you cut off all means of contact with him!? The risks are too high for Aether’s poor heart to bear so no matter how his hand itches to turn off the stupid blinking red webcam, he holds himself back and just pouts at you.

All in all, Yan!Camboy!Aether is a pathetic perv teehee :3c

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[cranquis]

Your recent reblog made me sad, but also makes a lot of sense. I've been following you since I was in medical school, and I'm now in my fifth year of specialty training (I am not American). I did occasionally wonder why I've been seeing less of the kind of content you used to put out.

All I can say is - thank you for the work you do. I've seen enough online to get an idea of what you must face on a daily basis. I think I'm lucky that somehow, the doctor-patient relationship overall hasn't deteriorated to such an extent where I live (yet at least), but I definitely understand the frustration and despair of trying to communicate with people who aren't coming into the conversation in good faith.

You've always been a kind of role model for me in terms of your passion for your work and your open sharing about your faith. I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you find hope and joy in your work, even if those you serve aren't wise enough to appreciate what you do for them.

Hi, my colleague! Hey first of all, thank you for your kind words of encouragement and affirmation. Negative med-related interactions (online or in person) anymore just roll off me, but the positive ones still give my heart a thrill! :) And congrats on your continued journey down the medical pathway.

Second, I'm glad your message gives me the chance to clarify for all my long-time Cranquis Pants* that I still do enjoy my work. I have been doing the exact same Urgent Care job in the exact same location (with quite a few staff turnovers) ever since I finished residency 17 years ago! I still enjoy the bulk of my patient interactions, I continue to hone my diagnostic skills, I feel very confident in my procedural skills, I have a reputation in our local medical community as a reliable and thorough physician, and I have a loyal group of patients who routinely nag me to "quit urgent care and become a regular doctor so we can be your primary care patients". My staff likes and respects me (despite my best efforts to ruin that on the daily, with my puns etc); I like my staff and appreciate the hard work they do in the face of the same administrative and societal opposition that I encounter; I am not distressed when little kids freak out during physical exams (and my success rate of turning those frowns upside down with playful interactions and silly sound effects is pretty darn good).

I am blessed with amazing work-life balance, more than the majority of Family Medicine-trained physicians I suspect. I carry no pager, I take no call, I leave my work at home when I go home. I know my schedule months in advance, I have a shift template that gives me plenty of week-long stretches off, and I have my Sabbaths 100% free to attend church and spend time with my family. My pay is decent and my benefits are solid, my debts get paid and I have a roof over my head. My kids and wife are happy to see me come home. Personally, I really have nothing to complain about.

But the bloom is off the rose for my profession as a whole. The politics and trends of the US health care system continues to disenfranchise physicians, devaluing the years and $$ invested in becoming physicians, over-valuing patient satisfaction scores and inexpensive labor and glitzy administrative initiatives and staff rumor mills more than evidence-based, experience-driven clinical medicine. The power structure is upside down, as if doctors ought to be automatically doubted and disdained by pharmacists, insurance companies, administrators, patients, and APCs because of their systematic educational journeys and reliance upon scientific evidence.

And one of the saddest results is watching medical professionals turn on each other. The fragmentation and super-specialization of every aspect of medical care creates artificial "us v. them" scenarios; specialists and primary-care battling over who does the paperwork for pre-op visits and FMLA, ER and Urgent Care arguing about how much workup should be undertaken by the UC when the patient is obviously going to need ER management, primary-care so overwhelmed with insurance-required goals that their patients can never get same-day/soon-day appointments, pharmacies so understaffed that it's easier for them to tell the patients that "the doctor never sent the prescription" when in reality ...

I could go on.

I miss the old days (said the geezer on the internet), when I could enthusiastically support a pre-med student's dreams of getting into medical school and "helping people as a doctor someday." Now I wince at the idealism in a high-schooler's eyes, and try to find a nice way to say "there's more options for helping people than just becoming a doctor... be sure you have your motivations straight, because medicine is not what it was even 10 years ago..."

So hope and joy in my career? Hope for the profession of physicians, I have little. But I make the joy in my practice when I can make it, and I only expect to find joy in my non-medical time with family and hobbies and travel and friends and the lifestyle which my medical career still does make more feasible than otherwise.

*Probably not the term historically assigned to "fans of this blog", back when I posted frequently -- it's been a minute -- but if not, SHOOT that was a missed opportunity.

[ninadove]

If the woman next to Nathalie is indeed Amelie and Emilie is still dead, how do you imagine Amelie and Felix will redecorate The Agreste Mansion? (Assuming that they move there since Amelie is now Adrien’s only adult relative left.)

Oh my gosh Anon. That is SUCH a cute ask, but let me tell you, you have opened Pandora’s box and unleashed 50 levels of overanalysis upon the world. Time for me to turn into an architecture and interior design major for the sake of this post.

In order to get a good sense of Amelie’s taste and of the massive work that needs to be done, let’s compare the shared spaces in the Agreste mansion to those in the Graham de Vanily penthouse.

The first thing that strikes me is that the palettes are exactly the same: white and black are the dominant hues, with a pop of colour coming from earthy tones. And yet, the two atmospheres could not be more different! In my opinion, this boils down to a few key elements: lighting, shapes, space, and purpose.

1. Lighting

The most obvious one. Just look how miserable the Agrestes’ living (?) room looks in comparison to the Graham de Vanily’s. There’s an interesting subversion here when it comes to lighting sources.

The Agrestes’ mansion relies mostly on natural lighting, which gives it a greyish, depressing look. Windows are everywhere, and they’re big, but they aren’t meant to let the sun filter through; instead, they ressemble a cage keeping Adrien in.

Sunlight represents the outside world, which Gabriel "No one matters except us" hates. In his mind, whatever looms outside of the mansion is dangerous. Hawkmoth’s attacks always start with letting the light in, the same way he welcomes his victims’ negative emotions; while he keeps Emilie safe in the crypt, as far away from the sun as possible (even when we do see it fully illuminated, it has to come from an artificial source).

Emilie’s cosy little basement, Gabriel’s office and Nathalie’s room — the adults’ world — are the only spaces that get the courtesy of significant artificial lightning. In other words, there is not enough light and joy coming in from the outside, and definitely not enough coming from the inside to compensate. Which is super sad if you ask me.

Now onto the Graham de Vanily penthouse. We do not get many shots of it, and most of them are taken at night time, which I (want to) believe is a very conscious choice on the writing team’s part.

While Gabriel refuses to let sunlight, and everything good it symbolises, into his son’s life, Amelie welcomes the night and the potential dangers it carries with it. The windows make up two entire walls, offering a full view of the outside world.

Notice how the moon and stars are nowhere to be seen in this shot, yet the penthouse remains significantly brighter than the mansion on the sunniest day. The abundance of artificial light in the Graham de Vanily home, light that comes from within, is a symbol of the love they share as a family.

So obviously, we need to get Adrien some lamps, urgently.

2. Shapes

The thing about the Agreste mansion is, it has potential.

No really. Hear me out.

The use of straight lines (vertical in the overall architecture, expanding like sun rays in the minimalistic decor) is reminiscent of Art Déco, which is a very fun style. For instance, it gave us the Chrysler building:

But here, it’s just… Not working. In fact, these same lines are what makes the entire building look like a cage — not just the windows I mentioned above, but the entire structure of the place, trapped between vertical lines like behind prison bars.

On the other hand, the Graham de Vanily penthouse is ruled primarily by horizontal lines, which expand the space instead of compressing it. It’s smaller, but it feels bigger and more breathable.

This difference in structure directly contributes to my third point:

3. Space

More precisely, how it is organised to make the mansion look threatening, and the penthouse cosy.

And by that I specifically mean this AWFUL NO GOOD TERRIBLE STAIRCASE.

It’s the first thing we think about when picturing the mansion; how it towers over the characters and crushes them. There’s a reason Marinette’s act of defiance in Pretension was to rush up those despicable horrifying very very bad stairs to find Adrien; they are a symbol of Gabriel’s power over his world, his fans, his son, his victims.

Interestingly enough, the penthouse is also built on several levels — which we can infer by the presence of a very discreet mezzanine. This implies the existence of stairs, right??? Where are they???

It’s very blink-and-you-miss it — the exact opposite of the Agreste staircase. To the Graham de Vanilys, stairs are just stairs: a necessity for their comings-and-goings, a useful infrastructure in their day-to-day life as a family. Not a display of power and control.

Oh? Is that a transition I sense? Absolutely, for it is time to move on to the last part of our analysis:

4. Purpose

Just like the staircase, every single piece of furniture in the Agreste household serves a purpose. Adrien’s room is the best example of this phenomenon.

On top of the essentials (bed + desk & computer combo), we immediately notice:

- A plethora of trophies, reinforcing the message that Adrien has to be the best at everything he does, always;

- An impressive bookshelf, illustrating the top-notch (and somewhat elitist) education Adrien has been receiving at home.

"But Nina!" you might ask, "What about the fun stuff? What about the arcade games and the basketball hoop and the climbing wall?"

I hear you. Those things look pretty cool, don’t they? Until you remember that Adrien has spent his entire life in isolation. These are all appliances that would normally be found outside of the house, giving him an opportunity to socialise. In other words, they are meant to deter him from seeking enjoyment in the “real” world. If, like me, you were obsessed with N Harmonia as a pre-teen, you might notice some striking similarities to his cage room:

Still not convinced? Say hi to our friend the foosball table!

Meanwhile, on the actually loving side of the family, you get an entire piano and AN ACTUAL ABSTRACT PAINTING:

It’s not even figurative — unlike the portraits of the Agreste family members or the statue in the garden, constantly reminding us of Emilie’s absence. It’s art for the sake of art, which makes a massive difference. Things are allowed to be there for no reason other than Amelie and Felix like them.

So now that we’ve established that

How would they redecorate the mansion if given the chance?

1. Lean into the Art Déco aesthetic for a much needed dose of actual (yet elegant) fun. There are so many lines and curves to play with to get rid of this feeling of imprisonment we get from the pillars!

2. BLOW UP THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. No, really. We can find a much cuter, less pretentious alternative to whatever kind of power trip that was.

3. Get rid of the stupid bars on all those windows. Replace them with literally any other option that doesn’t make you want to choke on a pancake.

4. Also, get some lamps. Lamps EVERYWHERE, on the walls, on the ceiling, on the furniture. The resident vampire is GONE, we can have some goddamn light in this goddamn place.

5. Indulge in the pleasure of buying things just because they’re pretty. Trash the paintings and put up some actual art (abstract or not) instead. Exorcise Emilie’s ghost and Gabriel’s tacky tastes out of this place. This process has already begun, given that the statue in the garden is now gone!

6. Let Adrien decorate his own room, and have fun with it. This part may be tricky because our boy doesn’t know what he wants, but you know what, it’s part of the process! Giving him total creative control over his own space is a first step towards his making bigger decisions for himself, like choosing what he wants to be when he grows up. As requested by my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ @paracosmicfawn, he can also redecorate the entryway, which carries sooo much trauma for him. Maybe he can put up some cute cat statuettes along the new staircase, or something equally cheesy.

7. Build a pool, apparently

8. Last but not least, block all accesses to the basement and the attic. Hide them behind these new Kandinsky paintings they just bought. Pray to Gimmi Adrien never finds out (he will).

And that, my friend, is how you take a prison and turn it into a home full of secrets!

[thelediz]

Answering the second part of this ask, what do I think of Dark Sonic?

Sonic X was many things, and I love it for some of them and don't for others, but one thing I did appreciate was Dark Sonic.

With two caveats (I always caveat my statements): I don't think they did it WELL, and I wish it had been Amy or Tails to talk him down rather than Eggman, but this is season three of Sonic X and we have to take it for the fan pandering glory that it was.

I like Dark Sonic's existence for the same reason I adore Darkspine Sonic: emotions run the gambit from light to dark, positive to negative. They're all important, and even our darkest ones need to be acknowledged and released sometimes.

Again, this is skirting dangerously close to me reflecting about why I love the Sonic franchise as a whole, but to summarise: Chaos is power, enriched by the heart. And sometimes, the heart is not pretty. But that doesn't make it wrong.

Super Sonic is made by Sonic channelling positive emotions into power, specifically 'hope'. That's how he balances the Water God Chaos, who has been warped by 'fear'. and 'anger'.

I would also say this is why Sonic Generations Sonic can take Chaos on later, but I digress

Darkspine Sonic is made by Sonic being overwhelmed by darker emotions while wearing seven world rings. And I do want to make it clear that I am saying 'darker' here, not 'negative'. He's still infused with hope in this form, he's just also giving in to sadness, rage, and hatred. Because while these sound bad, they... don't have to be, in the same way that hope can be extremely destructive. Sometimes, rage and hatred can drive you to do incredible acts because you refuse to give in to those things you hate. Darkspine Sonic is protective and loving, he's just also angry and hurting.

Contrast Dark Sonic, who is just lashing out. There's nothing hopeful about Dark Sonic, he's just angry, defiant, and vengeful.

He is also, pointedly, affected by fake chaos emeralds. These... never really went anywhere, but like Dark Sonic they are an interesting concept that you could spend too much time thinking about. They're artificial power sources, and Sonic specifically says they make him feel weird, which for a creature that is so tied to emotion and power makes PERFECT SENSE. He's all about channelling energy and existing as he is, and this is an artificial conduit that can direct power. It's artificially boosting his energy in ways that don't work with his system.

Those who read the fic can guess where I'm going with that

So to me, Dark Sonic is artificial power abusing the easiest emotions it can latch on to.

In Sonic X, that was the rage, shame, and vengeance Sonic felt when he saw Chris hurt. Because it's artificial, it's shallow, and so easily conquered when someone confronts it with sincerity, but that doesn't make the power it wields any less destructive.

Which... I guess, is why I don't mind that it was like... five seconds of story. It makes SENSE for it to be quickly wiped out. But it wasn't properly explained, and it wasn't really useful narratively, so... -vague hand gesture-

I mean, I get why people don't like it, is what I'm saying.

But I do love the fact it exists.

[yours-the-author]

Super Danganronpa: Goodbye Despair Extended Zodiac: My Thoughts

Hey gamers, I'm back on my weird fixation again. Time to buckle up, 'cause we're doing more zodiac shenanigans for the dangan-boys and dangan-girls! I've explained the concept several times now, so you probably don't need me to do it again.

In fact, I think I'll include links to the previous posts I made on this topic, as well as the V3 edition whenever that gets done in the future. I'm going to put it above the Keep Reading line, in case you want to avoid scrolling through spoilers. Here they are:

Trigger Happy Havoc

Masterminds

Goodbye Despair (You are here!)

Killing Harmony

Enough of that now; let's get started! Danganronpa spoilers inbound!

Hajime Hinata - January 1

Capries - Sign of the Bold (Capricorn, Derse, Time)

Born on the first day of the year, Hajime is a Capricorn! Capricorns do everything they can to achieve their goal, no matter how hard they have to work. They can also be selective about who they share their goals with, especially if, logically, they know it's not the best plan.

This is Hajime to a T, especially in the Despair Arc of the anime. He's worked hard to become a student of Hope's Peak Academy, even if he can only attend as a Reserve Course student, but that's not enough: he wants to be talented, to be a true and accepted Ultimate at the academy, and he's willing to make tough decisions in order to reach that dream... namely, a lot of terrible decisions. He throws away who he is as a person to become a talent lab rat, which in turn leads to the events that causes the Biggest Most Awful Most Tragic Event in Human History. The one person he shared his goals with was Chiaki, and and though he likely knew her advice was sound, he wouldn't give up. Or maybe he couldn't?

Next is Lunar Sway, and I chose Derse for Hajime. Skeptical, introverted, and an inherent need to rebel against the system of Talented vs Untalented by becoming talented through artificial means; Hajime's pretty cut and dry. It can also be hard for him to appreciate the present moment, as seen in the prologue of Goodbye Despair where he refuses to join the others in enjoying the beach. And, of course, by the time he feels ready to participate, the Killing Game begins. His Derse traits fit here quite nicely, too.

Next comes his aspect, which was a bit of a difficult decision, but I eventually ended up with Time (other choices were blood, doom, and heart, surprisingly). Time players feel a constant struggle in their lives, literal or metaphorical, and if that isn't Hajime Hinata's life story right there, I don't know what is. His lack of talent, and the self-esteem issues that stem from that, make life quite difficult for Hajime. Despite working hard and paying a lot of money, he's "only" a Reserve Course student (which has always felt weird to me? Like, there's a huge tuition fee and massive tests and exams in order to get in; they may not be Ultimates, but they're definitely talented). Not only does this wear away at his emotional stability, but there's that one scene in the anime where a teacher beats him up when he tries to enter the main campus! Who knows how many times that happened offscreen! Also like a Time player, Hajime is a relentless problem solver (makes sense, since he's a protagonist) AND impulsive. Seriously, none of the adults in his personal life (parents or guardians) nixed the thought of Hajime doing the Hope Cultivation Project? Not one? He's either a good liar or he has even more struggles than I realized.

Lastly, his word: the Bold. I wasn't sure about this one at first; Hajime can certainly be courageous when he needs to be, but confident? Only if the class trial demands it. The key that made me chose this word, though, was the fact that he's very willing to take risks. I don't know the full extent of how he became a lab rat, but there must have been some discussion of risks, even if they were downplayed considerably. It didn't matter to Hajime, though. No matter what price he'd have to pay, fiscally or physically, he would do anything to become an Ultimate student. And he did.

---

Chiaki Nanami - March 14

Pimino - Sign of the Empathetic (Pisces, Prospit, Doom)

Interesting fact, apparently Chiaki shares the same birthday as Chihiro Fujisaki from THH, which makes them both Pisces! We're only going to talk about Chiaki today, though.

Pisces people often have an enigmatic and otherworldly quality about them, though a lot of that is because they like to daydream and get lost in their own thoughts. Chiaki's quiet but rational nature is often hidden by her tendency to sleep standing up and focus on her videogames, and, as it turns out in Goodbye Despair, there IS something otherworldly about her: she isn't human! Even when she was still alive, her kindness to and friendship with Hajime stuck around even after he became Izuru, and though he didn't remember who she was, she managed to do something quite enigmatic: she made him cry at her death. Alive or not, Chiaki has something special about her that suits a Pisces perfectly.

For Lunar Sway, I gave Chiaki Prospit, which may seem a bit odd, but hear me out. While it's true she's more introverted and less likely to make huge reactions, like a Derse dreamer would be, that's just because that's her honest personality. Prospit dreamers don't always have control over how they present themselves to the world; they exist as they are, even if they're naturally quiet people. Prospit dreamers also have difficulty with deception. Though Chiaki physically couldn't reveal her role as the "traitor" in Goodbye Despair, she didn't do much to keep it a secret, either. She willingly put her student handbook on Nagito's bomb, which he claimed could only be done by the traitor, and once the purpose of Nagito's death was revealed, Chiaki desperately did her best to reveal what she was so that the others could survive. Very Prospit-like, in her own way.

Doom players "are fate's chosen sufferers." Given all the horrible things Chiaki goes through in both the anime and Goodbye Despair, this one's pretty straightforward. And while she might not be able to directly help someone in trouble, she's a very willing sounding board for anyone who needs to vent (namely Hajime). She puts the company in "misery loves company", with the wisdom, kindness, and non-judgmental attitude to go with it.

Finally, Chiaki's word: the Empathetic. This plays off of a lot of what I already said, but it's further proven with her death in the anime: despite actively dying in a super painful way, she cries because she's worried about her classmates and Hajime. She wants nothing more to live so they can all be friends and play videogames together. She knows the impact she has on her classmates and the respect and care they have for her, so she knows her death will leave a terrible impact and she worries what the aftermath will look like for them. Sadly, it was probably worse than she thought it would be.

---

Nagito Komaeda - April 28

Taurius - Sign of the Unmapped (Taurus, Derse, Hope)

Born on either the rainiest day of April or the driest April in years (depending on his luck), Nagito is a Taurus!

This... probably seems like an odd choice for Nagito. It certainly felt that way to me at first, since Taurus' are typically openhearted and withdrawn. Much like Byakuya from THH, though, it all comes down to stubbornness. Nagito is one of the most stubborn characters in the series, tying himself to the powers of Hope and Talent even when no one else sees things his way. Despite how close he acted with Hajime before the fourth class trial, the second he found out Hajime didn't have a talent, Hajime became dirt beneath his shoe. I wonder to myself how much of that was Nagito's honest feelings or just his strict adherence to his code of Hope; especially considering his special episode in the anime, where he wakes up from the NEO World Program with Hajime/Izuru's help. His deepest desire seems to be a world without talent (and by extension, a world without separation of talented and talentless), but he's quick to deny such a concept when he awakens. Is he stubbornly against talentless people for real, or is it simply a way of thinking he can't let go of? Who knows?

Next, the Lunar Sway: Nagito's fairly clearly a Derse dreamer. Nagito is acts very humble- often to an annoying degree- but his statements don't always feel so honest; some false humility, perhaps? He also has an odd sense of humor, and can be incredibly shrewd and calculating. While he claims that his talent "sucks", he still knows how to put it to good use, constructing a convoluted death trap for himself that will identify the traitor. And it works... to a point. Just his luck that Chiaki had faith in her friends and wanted them to survive, huh?

I really, REALLY didn't want to do this; I know he'd be freaking out right now if he were real, but unfortunately it seems to be one of the better fits, especially with his word. Nagito is... a Hope player (collective groan). The Hope bound are driven by their convictions, their idea of what is "right" and "wrong", even if it's not the conventional definitions. As mentioned in the Taurus paragraph, Nagito is tied down to his ideal of Hope and Talent being the ruling forces of the world. He's also not adverse to destruction in order to enforce that ideal; he brings a bomb to school to try and cancel exams because stressing out the other Ultimates will make them feel hopeless, or something along those lines. He very much knows that it's not appropriate to do that, but he's gotta do what he's gotta do to bring forth all of that hope. Though these ideals can make him narrow-minded and selfish, there are instances where he can be positive, warm, and even caring! Misguided and wrong as his methods were, Nagito did really want to help his classmates when they were feeling stressed. Well, at least he can have some hope in the form of being a Hope player in some rando's (me) Extended Zodiac discussion.

Finally, his word, which is what won me over to making him Hope: the Unmapped. While this world usually refers to geographical or even genetic uncertainty, it can be used here to describe Nagito's thought process. During the Funhouse arc in Goodbye Despair, the players gets to control Nagito for a bit, and we get a look at how he thinks vs what he says: a whole lot of thinking, not a whole lot of explaining his reasoning aloud. He's a complete mystery to everyone around him, like an uncharted map.

---

Lastly, I'm going to do my favorite character in Goodbye Despair (and then I'm going to go to BED! I keep forgetting how much work these posts are until after I start them. Anyway, put your hands together for:

Peko Pekoyama - June 30

Canittarius - Sign of the Striking (Cancer, Derse, Void)

A quiet swordswoman with an intense loyalty to her special one? Yeah, sounds like my kind of character. Anyway, Peko Pekoyama is a Cancer!

Resolute but surprisingly emotional, Cancers tend to create a hard outer shell to protect their soft and sweet insides. In Peko's case, she cares highly for Fuyuhiko, but thinks that such feelings are wrong for her to have since she's merely a tool to him (from her perspective). Thus, she creates a solemn and loyal personality befitting a piece of equipment like her, though she likely longs for something more from her young master.

In a similar way, Derse makes a lot of sense for her Lunar Sway. Cerebral and less inclined to vulnerability, a swordswoman like her needs to be able to calculate the best path to victory. Those skills are probably also useful for her social "life" as a pseudo member of a Yakuza family. Careful thinking and choosing your words carefully probably goes a long way.

Then the Aspect, which was rather difficult to decide on, but I finally chose Void. Void players are wise and intuitive people, but can also seem dismissive and apathetic. Peko decides to become Fuyuhiko's "murder weapon" in a clever attempt to help him survive, but in doing so, she's completely dismissive of what he wants until it's too late. And during her execution, she acts on instinct: the second Fuyuhiko is in danger- especially at her own hand- she stops fighting and uses the last of her strength to keep him alive. A very intuitive choice, indeed.

Finally her word: the Striking. Yes, this is a pun on how she strikes people with her bamboo sword, but her attempts to swindle the other characters into voting for the "wrong murderer" involve extreme, attention-grabbing methods: putting on a show as Sparkling Justice, the serial killer, and convincing people to make the "wrong choice". Of course, that's not the way it played out, but her attempts were certainly striking in their own way.

---

...And, those are my opinions! I'd definitely love to hear your thoughts and/or own opinions about which combinations fit better, so feel free to say something if you feel so inclined. I'm going to bed, it's late where I am and I've got a busy morning ahead of me. See you around!

[level2janitor]

whenever someone complaints abt a ttrpg being 'gamey' the standard response is "well what did you expect?? you're playing a game, dipshit". but i think by 'gamey' the actual criticism being made is that it feels artificial

5e's always felt gamey to me because of the annoying obligation to balance encounters and an adventuring day. you need to have enough encounters to drain the wizard's resources, they need to walk a tightrope between challenging the PCs and not TPK-ing them, etc etc.

and everyone talks about how hard this is on the GM with the limited tools 5e gives you (which it is) but it also has the unrelated effect of feeling extremely forced from a player-side. the illusion of a consistent world starts to slip because what the PCs encounter has to revolve around the PCs for the game to work.

also i've been seeing a lot of 4e defending on my dash lately and like, yes it's a good game that's very good at the thing it chooses to do. but the criticism that 4e feels gamey (read: artificial) is extremely valid; the strict separation between combat and non-combat results in all flavor basically being only flavor

there's a 4e paragon path you can take called the Entrancing Mystic, whose powers have flavor text describing how you bewitch and ensnare the minds of your enemies. what do the powers actually do? some forced movement in the combat boardgame. what happens if you use them out of combat? who knows! they certainly weren't designed to be used that way, because their actual effect is measured only in terms of the combat boardgame

obviously there's a lot of aspects of non-4e D&D and similar games that are unrealistic. hit points are not how being stabbed works. but certain gamisms bother me more bc they create a clear disconnect between the fiction and the mechanics in a more tangible way.

like, 13th age's resting system (great game but i wanna pick on it here) has you fully heal every 3 or 4 encounters. only had one encounter? no full heal-up, even if you're resting. you have had four encounters? you get a full heal-up. there's a halfhearted sidebar about how the GM should contrive a reason for the heal-up to happen.

as a game balance mechanic, it's great! but i despise it because it's so disconnected from the reality of the game world. HP and fully healing on a rest isn't realistic, but it's an abstract representation of something that happens in the fiction. take a rest -> fully heal is unrealistic but internally consistent with the game world. 13th age healing is not - the in-universe characters can never acknowledge it as it makes no in-world sense.

anyway the reason i'm grumpy abt this lately is the MCDM game has a taunt mechanic that's just straight-up called taunting and it irks me so so bad. again, great game, super fun, but taunting leads to so many situations where an NPC does stuff they wouldn't do

y'know, like a videogame! where the dialogue and personality is just a skin over a set of game mechanics. and when NPCs start behaving out of character with no in-world justification (cause taunts aren't mind control ofc, it's just a guy... taunting you) they feel gamey. artificial.

i like all of the games i brought up (except probably 5e) but i had to get that out of my system thanks for coming to my ted talk

[juukeboxx]

Bayverse!Donnie Headcanons

Hi everyone!

Here I am with my first batch of iteration specific headcanons! I'm going to do more headcanons for other versions of the turtles but I wanted to start off with Bayverse!Donnie who became one of my favorite Donnies.

I know that the Bayverse movies are not everyone's cup of tea, and trust me these movies are a personal guilty pleasure. They have their issues like every movie does, but I do think that there are things to enjoy about them. I really wanted to share some headcanons because I wanted to share my thoughts and ideas I had.

So with that, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Slight spoilers for the movies if you haven't seen them, mentions of anxiety

Word count: 768

This version of Donnie is a nerd in every sense of the word. His ability to absorb knowledge like a sponge really comes in handy when understanding series with complex lore like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings.

When the brothers were kids Splinter would make trips up top and get resources for them (food, clothes, etc). Leo and Donnie were the two out of the four that were active readers, and because they had both read the limited books they had multiple times over Splinter would grab (age appropriate) magazines to keep his son's interest.

Donnie really likes annotating as he reads his books, but he's a little bit of a snob with it. He only writes and highlights in old, used, worn down books rather than any of the newer and nicer books he's gotten.

Donnie was incredibly sleep averse as a kid, and still is but it isn't as bad. He always found it hard to try to fall asleep and on days where it was particularly hard for him to go to bed Splinter would make him a soothing cup of warm milk with honey. The moment Donnie's head hit the pillow he would be out like a light.

He still makes the warm milk and honey for himself every now and then because of how comforting it is.

All-nighters are a regular thing for Donnie, but not as often as one would think. The only time Donnie really pulls any all-nighters is when he has a huge project he's trying to finish. That's usually when the kitchen constantly smells like coffee and Pop-Tarts. Other than that he does try to keep a somewhat consistant sleep schedule.

It's hard for him to pick just one Pop-Tart that he likes the most, so he has a top three. Nothing beats a classic cinnamon and brown sugar, s'mores is such an iconic flavor, but surprisingly enough his favorite are the strawberry milkshake Pop-Tarts.

He's not a fan of foods and drinks that have orange artificial flavoring.

No surprise here but he has a massive sweetooth. Not a super big fan of chocolate but there are some chocolate things he likes (usually they incorporate another flavor). Donnie's a caramel kind of guy.

This version of Donnie does not take any bullshit from his brothers, especially Leo and Raph. Yeah there have been times, especially when they were kids, when Donnie was "walked on" by his older brothers as they would push their "older brother authority" onto the younger ones.

But after saving New York and more broadly the world, Donnie's confidence in himself his skyrocketed. Raph in particular is proud of his younger brother for having found his voice and his confidence.

Despite his newfound confidence, social situations are not Donnie's thing at all. This version of the purple clad turtle has some issues with social anxiety. Big social gatherings (for example, the turtles receiving the keys to the city at the end of Out of the Shadows) gives him this bubbling anixety he feels in his gut and he just feels so awkward.

It's hard for him to start conversations with people and small talk just makes him feel more awkward. He feels the most comfortable when he's talking to someone that has the same interest as him.

He really likes making little trinkets for people or fixing things. Donnie's fixed plenty of things around the lair, and he uses thta as an excuse to focus on something else when his brain needs a break from the main project he's been working on.

Donnie has taught Raph some of the basics when it comes to tools and fixing certain appliances. They'll even work on the garbage truck together sometimes.

Not only do they share an interest in books, but Leo and Donnie like to play chess together quite often. Leo sees it as a way to pull his younger brother out of his lab and socialize every now and then, and Donnie just likes spending time with his big brother.

When Donnie's mad at Leo he'll use one of his brother's tea mugs for his coffee.

Donnie and Mikey are almost opposites of each other, but that doesn't mean they don't get along. If it's one thing they do together it's playing video games. They've both collected all sorts of consoles and games over the years and many games they have a mutual interest in.

The two youngest brothers can sit on the couch and talk about the video game they've been hyperfixating on for hours. Donnie has found that Mikey is a great conversationalist.

[communistkenobi]

i never really paid much attention to star wars before the mandalorian so please forgive me if this is super obvious but: are we supposed to view the droids as being kind of alive? beings with artificial intelligence? i was very uncomfortable with how the ugnaughts (sp?) were portrayed in the last episode but i didn’t think much of the droids because always just saw them a technological tool. i was a little surprised when the bartender droid gave their monologue about the droids wanting to work and catch the bad droids, and thought maybe they want to work to fulfill their programming. but maybe i should have been more considerate. (i am kind of a dumb bitch too tho so maybe this is just something that’s super obvious to most people and not me :s)

Narratively I think droids are supposed to represent an advanced form of automation - astromechs are navigational droids that handle the immense amount of math that’s required to travel through space, droids like C3PO house linguistic and cultural information for diplomatic purposes, etc. I think originally, given that Star Wars was created prior to the internet being a thing, they were used to represent mass sums of human information, but access to that information was restricted to wherever those droids happened to be in spacetime. They’re essentially mobile computers, but not in the way we think of them (eg phones). But because they’re mobile and have to communicate with human beings without any touch screens or interfaces, especially in the case of droids like C3PO, they are by default anthropomorphised. It’s on par with people naming their roombas. These are tasks that are within human capability, but have been offloaded and automated to make everyone’s lives easier (and probably also many financial and political reasons, but that gets into like, the political economy of Star Wars, which if you talk about that you threaten to take Star Wars too seriously).

But, given how expansive Star Wars is, the answer to your question is maybe sometimes. Chopper in Rebels seems to fill the role of the beloved family pet. L3-37 in Solo is explicitly calling for droid liberation and insists that she and all other droids are equal to organics. Mouse droids likewise seem to be viewed as robotic animals. Mando again makes equivalent droid automation and slave labour.

However, this becomes complicated because there are also actual slaves in Star Wars. The clones are the most obvious example, but the twi’lek as a species also are often enslaved. There are also slaver “planets” and “races” who base their economy off of the buying and selling of slaves (that was in the clone wars, I can’t remember what episodes though). Droid liberation is often framed as inherently farcical in the franchise, but “droid liberation” also exists as a form of deracialised political action, and I mean that in the real world sense - droids are not analogous to a given real world conflict or historical process the way that like, twi’lek are (who even have french accents and speak space french! Now Filoni is an idiot and says this is because he’s drawing inspiration from the French Revolution as opposed to the much more appropriate and obvious Haitian Revolution, but whatever). So when drawing parallels between slavery as a thing in Star Wars and slavery as a real world historical process, it becomes frustrating to talk about, because droid lib is both set-up and punchline, but it’s also the most “acceptable” way to explore ending slavery in SW because it means the white writers don’t have to engage with systemic racial oppression in a way that might make them feel uncomfortable. As a comparison, there are multiple episodes in clone wars where clones refuse to follow orders or try to escape and they’re treated as defective or wrong or insane. That shit fucking sucks and it takes on a much more insidious tone than “haha, the droids want weekends off. how cute.”

And then the counter COUNTER problem with that, which is explicitly invoked in The Mandalorian, is that droids are essentialised to their code or “base functions.” These are facts about a droid that are intrinsic to their nature and cannot be altered or removed, and to attempt otherwise means perverting the “true nature” of droids - they are doomed to be what they were created for (I guess forget about IG-11 being rehabilitated lol). So when you call them slaves, and then insist they are forever shackled to their programming, that’s not a neutral storytelling choice, and you are essentially invoking the idea that there are some races or people for whom slavery is more naturally suited. Which is explicitly a white supremacist idea. And given the context of this storyline in The Mandalorian’s broader political problems, it becomes particularly nefarious.

All this to say - droids are maybe slaves. It depends on the story being told and why, it depends on the writer, etc. But when analogising it to real world history it becomes fraught, given that there are actual slaves in SW who are intended as obvious parallels to real world acts of slavery in human history, a thing that is omnipresent in star wars while also being largely ignored or dismissed by the writers

[astranauticus]

alnst ivan ramble i don't want to annoy my friends with under cut:

ive been thinking about this for a while (especially after the new official art) but ivan reminds me so much of like... ok so i was watching this variety show some time back and the context isnt super important but basically each episode has its own little oneshot storyline with like characters and worldbuilding and like theres one episode where one of the characters gets introduced and youre immediately like. something wrong with this guy. like he gives off such intense good kid/model student energy that it wraps back around to being incredibly unnerving and uncanny. anyway you eventually find out that the worldbuilding gimmick of that episode is that theres a company that can take orders for creating designer babies/clones of your children and everyones instantly like oh that guy's definitely a clone. but the actual twist is that as a kid his parents found him too rowdy/bad at studying so his father ordered a clone that's more smart and obedient but the day the clone arrived the kid found out hes being replaced, beat the clone to death in the toilet, stole its clothes, threw its corpse out the window and has just been pretending to live as the clone for his entire life from that point onward. and specifically hes like pretending to be the artificially smarter and more 'model student' version of himself which means he has to do things like stay up all night studying when his parents thinks hes asleep just to maintain the perfect grades he/the clone is expected to have because he thinks knows if his parents find out he isnt actually that effortlessly intelligent version of him that they ordered they're just gonna try and replace him again. anyway that story's been haunting me for like... more than a year probably at this point and its so ivan to me because like. mizi's guardian does actually love her in... some way or another and as terrible a pet as till is literally everyone acknowledges that he's a genius and that itself is worth enough to keep trying to beat the rough edges out of him instead of just... giving up and moving on, but with ivan it always kind of feels like he just doesnt have any inherently valuable qualities so everything worthwhile about him has to be beaten into him either by the aliens or by himself (like hes the one who created that horrible workaholic hell schedule for himself at anakt, because he knows that's what he needs to do to keep up being that perfect student, perfect pet). like it really does kind of make sense that even he thinks of himself as shallow because is there any part of him that doesn't come from someone else? is there any part of him that originally came from himself, that he didnt have to create just to survive?

[bumblebeehug]

Foggy Baths

Summary: Prompt: *Fogs up mirror and writes a message* As Natsu once again finds himself suffocating in the scented air, he leaves a secret message on Lucy's mirror. Notes: This is a fic on the shorter side that was inspired by a Tumblr prompt I found but can't remember the creator of. "*Fogs up mirror and writes a message*" just screamed NaLu to me, so in two days I scrambled together this fic. I hope you like it! Ao3 - FF.net

***

Lucy took a deep breath through her nose. The air around her was magical. Not literally, but she could definitely feel the eternano enter her body through the calming aura she was in. Light floral scents were steaming out of Lucy’s scalding hot bath, almost making her a bit dizzy, and with her moisturising face mask on and her lavender scented candles lit, she was in heaven. She had even been wise enough to bring a book and put on some of her favourite classical music pieces, because now she was in her own amazing world, diving into the romantic story that hid in those old pages.

Natsu was so bored. The team had just gotten home from a long and hard mission, and Lucy had immediately forbidden him and Happy to enter her apartment. He truly couldn’t wrap his head around why - even she knew that they were impossible to keep out. They basically lived together! Well, not according to Lucy, but Natsu knew better. He did half of their chores and slept in her bed - not even Lucy was dense enough to believe they were only friends, right?

To be honest, Natsu wasn’t too sure. He thought he had been super clear with his feelings for the celestial mage, promising to be together forever in the future and making sure to always keep her safe, but he suspected Lucy wanted something else - something more, as a confession. She was, after all, an avid and passionate reader of romantic novels. He could bet 10 years of food money on that she was nose deep in one of those books right now.

But Natsu isn’t a prince. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make the woman he loves feel special. It’s an unknown world. So instead he does what he does best. He brings Happy along to break into Lucy’s apartment.

As he stood outside the pink building on Strawberry Street he could already sense that Lucy’s taking one of those “relaxing days” that mostly fried Natsu’s nose more than they made Lucy relax. The sound of multiple violins made him understand that she was listening to her mother’s favourite classical music. That was to Natsu that was a relief, since it meant that he easily could sneak in through her bedroom window. Happy was immediately off to raid the fridge, and Natsu was tempted to do the same before he heard a soft humming, slightly out of tempo, from the bathroom. While Happy was distracted, Natsu took his chance to sneak away. He was already thinking up multiple pranks as he gently opened the usually creaky bathroom door.

He was met with a thick puff of steam and heavy artificial scents. Natsu almost let out a cough but kept it in as he studied the room Lucy had decorated. He was trying to find one of those face sharpies… Lucy called them eyelid liner or something, Natsu wasn’t paying too much attention back then, when his eyes came across the mirror. It was so fogged up that he could barely make out his own figure in the reflecting glass. He smiled slightly at the sight, because only Lucy could be so drawn to the heat that it almost made a fire dragon slayer sweaty. And then he wondered, could he maybe find a way to prank her with the mirror in some way, while also not getting caught? His first idea was to scare her by placing his palm against the glass and pretend that it was some ghost, but he knew that Lucy immediately would recognise his hand size. He mindlessly glanced at the drape, where her shadow seemed to be dancing in the flickering light that probably came from some of her oh so loved candles. She seemed peaceful right now, probably completely calm and relaxed in this steamy room.

The longer he stood in the room, the dizzier he got. Honestly, it felt as if a sauna and a perfume shop had been fused, and according to Natsu, that is a mix that should never be made. Though, the longer he stood in the room, the more of Lucy’s laughter, gasps and small exclamations he could hear as she progressed with her novel, flipping pages faster than Natsu could understand. How could she read so fast? He felt incredibly calm near this presence. Her presence. He wanted to stay and listen to her vocalising her emotions forever, but these scents were really getting to his head and he could already feel a really bad headache coming up. So he swiftly moved over to the mirror and started doodling. He tried to stay focused as he painted out a poor portrait of Plue, and then a small fire dragon, which he labled "Igneel" to make sure she got the refrence, and then a little paw mark to frame Happy, even if he wasn’t the partner in crime this time. And then, as Lucy once again started with her humming to the melody, Natsu found his hands writing out a small “I love you” in the corner of the mirror. As he realised what he was doing, he started blushing profusely. Yes, by now he definitely thought that Lucy already should know this, but he had a feeling she didn’t. And with this being the most obvious confession, Natsu naturally felt embarrassed.

But he didn’t wipe it out. Instead he used his best ninja-skills in order to get out of the place as quietly as he had gotten there. When he came out of the bathroom his head immediately felt clearer - and with that, so did his embarrassment. So he hastily made his way to her bed where Happy had already fallen asleep while cuddling a fishbone. And as he lied there under her soft covers, he could for once not fall asleep. His eyelids felt heavy while his ears listened to Lucy as she blew out the candles, drained the bath, started drying her body, and then, the dreaded moment when she pushed her drapes aside. Natsu could swear on his life that his heartbeat was detectable for every dragon slayer on the continent right now, because he knew that Lucy would see what he had written. He could hear a defeated sigh, and then a small giggle as Lucy loudly showcased her emotions through her voice. If he wasn’t so nervous right now he’d fall in love all over again - she was just too cute.

Natsu put all his focus into breathing steadily and keeping his face relaxed as he feigned his sleep. Lucy opened the bathroom door, and he heard her shuffle her feet across the floor. She was walking straight towards him.

The closer she came, the more obvious it was to him that her heart was beating a bit harder than before. With just a few inches apart, Lucy raised her hand and cupped Natsu’s cheek.

“Me too,” she whispered, as if she knew that he was awake right now. And Natsu felt like flying, because two words had never sounded more heavenly to him. He loves Lucy and Lucy loves him back. The corners of his mouth twitched in pure happiness, and he had to use all the power in his mind and body to keep faking his sleep. One day he was going to get Lucy to say “I love you” to him, while looking him straight in his eyes, no more funny business. But today he allowed himself to just relish in the blessings he had been given for the day. Whatever was waiting in the future could wait a bit longer. They still had forever ahead of them after all.

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

A set of 20 questions to get to know your OC! Thank you for the tag Bool!! I'll follow in your step and do one of my wolves! And I'll retag you so you can do your other boy ;) @bool-prop. If I get another tag, I'll do another wolf.

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Sam isn't really afraid of much, though his biggest fear is losing a loved one.

Do they have any pet peeves? People not taking the advice they clearly need.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? Crystals, books and plants.

What do they notice first in a person? Sam is extremely good at reading people, he notice fairly fast if they are 'good' or 'bad' people.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? Sam has a fairly high pain tolerance, it's not that he doesn't feel pain, but his calm nature makes him able not to react on everything he feels. I'd say he's a 7-8.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? None of the above. He's more of a 'try to solve it calmly' type of person.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? He has a very big family, and are definitely a family person. He weighs family above anything else.

What animal represents them best? Wolf, shocker. He's a wolf shifter, it would simply be weird for me to say a Jaguar would represent him. But Sam does have a lot in common with wolves. 'Wolves are highly organized, methodical, and reliable individuals who prefer to follow a structured approach to tasks and decision-making. Wolf values tradition, order, and stability, and strives to maintain a sense of security in their environment. Wolves are complex, highly intelligent animals who are caring, playful, and above all devoted to family.'

What is a smell that they dislike? Any rotten meat. Sam has a very fine tuned sense of smell, and rotten meat is something that tends to get stuck in his nose and make him cringe.

Have they broken any bones? No, he has been close a couple times, but he's in general quite elegant and careful.

How would a stranger likely describe them? Too calm, to the point of irritation. Are they a night owl or a morning bird? He's an equal mix of both.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? He loves herbal flavors and hate artificially sweetened food.

Do they have any hobbies? He makes his own lotions, potions, soap, candles, bath bombs, ointments and perfume oils.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? He'd be super happy and genuinely surprised. Sam loves surprises, as long as they are of the positive kind.

Do they like to wear jewelry? Yes. Sam has pierced left eyebrow, he's had that since he was a teen. Furthermore he sometimes wear an ankle bracelet, and he always wears a leather bracelet on his left wrist, Adrian gave him.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting? Very neat, just look at the answer picture of him above, yes, that's his handwriting. What are two emotions they feel the most? Calm and relaxed.

Do they have a favorite fabric? Corduroy

What kind of accent do they have? He's accent neutral. I tag: @papermint-airplane, @doka-chan, @nectar-cellar, @rollo-rolls and @armanasims, feel free to ignore if this is not for you :)

[twocubes]

I have a tarot reading request about my work + social life situation. I am basically burnt out from my job to the point that I'm unable or unwilling to accept even thanks or praise. Most of it relates to my manager, who has an imprecise yet emotionally blunt and at times exacting manner of communication that feels tailor-made to make technical discussions nearly impossible (I am a software engineer, and a fairly sensitive person. He is a military veteran who believes strongly in doing the fastest thing that works, and has been known to critique people to their face openly in group settings.) So I know the "correct" thing to do is grind up my LeetCode and start job hunting … but that would mean sitting down with a traditional data structures & algorithms text when I feel like I would much rather invest myself intellectually in my pipe dream of learning mathematics / getting, someday, to participate in the new univalent foundations of mathematics (maybe even as a programmer.) At the same time, the usual outlets I might have of getting to go for long walks / socialize on weekends feel increasingly out of reach, since I live in the outskirts of my city and the public transit authority there has been cancelling the trains for shuttle buses for most weekends, for what is going on 2 years now (at least since after the pandemic.) Having to ride buses instead of just hop on a train on weekends, for promised signal improvements that feel like they will never come, is slowly killing any sense of spontaneity and connection with casual human society outside of work for me. And even thinking about moving feels impossible (I have a housemate, my sibling, who I love dearly but I'm just not sure I want to commit to another 3-5 yrs. of cohabitation with.) Every direction in which I might reasonably turn for some vision of life outside of the cramped, artificial one where our company is super great! and everything is super exciting! despite the burnout and the constant reorgs and the whole new managerial clique we just got that's in charge of everything now, and, and, and … feels increasingly closed off. Would love any interpretation you could offer.

thank you for volunteering your fate to be decided by our still experimental divinatory process, here at dorothy twocubes' 24-hour bad advice hour™! as always, i must remind you, that this should only be taken seriously if it's good advice; otherwise, it's a joke, haha, why would you take it seriously? anyways let's get started

you seem to have some idea of what you want, and you seem to need advice regarding what to do next, so i will try with that mainstay, that good old spread that everyone likes and uses, Sun Tzu's five factors that decide battles. also i haven't done this in a while and this one i used a bunch before so maybe it's appropriate idk

alright.

Purpose: ONE OF FISHES, reversed Purpose here means what you're trying to do, your goals. If you were like, a leader of a group, it would be the reason that other people follow you. What keeps you going as like, an entity. FISHES are to do with your social position in the world, where you are relative to others in the way that it defines who you are. ONE is to do with something being complete, filled, all there, enough. that sort of thing and it's reversed

Landscape: ONE HALF OF HEARTS, reversed Landscape here means the environment you're navigating. Where you are relative to other things and other people in the sense of like, obstacles or resources or... yknow, things that must be practically considered HEARTS are to do with perpetuance; with what it is that sustains, what allows something to continue to exist. health, both literal and metaphorical ONE HALF is to do with stuff being incomplete; things that are started but not finished, things that are there but not sufficient, partialness and it's reversed

Climate: NINE OF DIAMONDS, reversed Climate here means transient stuff that affects the landscape. The mood of the world, the weather. The way the world is changing. DIAMONDS are to do with what you value, what gives your life purpose, meaning. What fulfills you. and it's reversed

Doctrine: OMEGA PLUS ONE OF DIAMONDS, upright Doctrine is what you are trained to do, what your standard operating procedures are. What you can do without having to learn to do new things. OMEGA PLUS ONE is to do with utopia. While OMEGA is to do with your ideals, that which you pursue without particular expectation that you might ever attain, OMEGA PLUS ONE is to do with the world that you might imagine if you attained your maybe-unattainable ideals. and it's upright

Leadership: EIGHT OF DIAMONDS, reversed Leadership is the strategy you chose, given all the other things here. EIGHT is to do with networks. Stuff being connected to stuff that is connected to more stuff. and it's upright

In addition, there is an arithmetic relationship between the cards:

8 + 1 = 9 this suggests that we should think of our interpretation of 9 as being a more direct consequence of the coordination of 8 and 1

I read these cards thus:

You are in a situation here where, in principle, your social position is fully secured, but your desire here is to leave this security.

The world you live in is one where people are struggling to support themselves and what-makes-them-themselves, and at the moment people are overall having to make hard choices regarding the pursuit of those precious things that make their life worth living.

You have the ability already, without having to learn it, to do what you think you would do in ideal circumstances.

So, given all this, the cards are suggesting that you should reach out in pursuit of what-gives-your-life-value and work with others; friends, acquaintances and acquaintances-of-acquaintances. In particular, the hard choices other people are making may give you some form of opportunity to change your social position.

...

Anyways, that's my reading. Maybe these cards make sense to you in some other way? Maybe this is helpful? Maybe it isn't? Either way, I claim no responsibility :p

Thanks for this opportunity to further test our experimental variant on the classic card-based rpg solitaire "cartomancy". i would be happy for feedback or a tip, but, it's also absolutely fine if you'd rather not. it's your choice, and we respect that.

[itrustmydiscoverweekly]

This week I listened to Cuco's "Fantasy Gateway"

⭐️⭐️⭐️(3 out of 5 stars)

I do have to preface this review with the fact that I only have a very elementary level of Spanish, and this album is (significantly partially) in Spanish. I did bother to look up the lyrics and understand what he's talking about, but I definitely don't understand a lot of the nuance.

I did like this album a lot, I always love it when an album tells a very specific story, I think is is a lot of fun and a great use of writing. You could write a book or you could write an album and I just think that's so neat.

Opinion time! (as always, not opinion order, just album order)

"Paraphonic" This whole album is very dreamy, which makes sense given the topic and the whole idea of the album. This song is full of great reverb and layers that melt together beautifully. I love the chorus so much, it is very catchy and the melody is so interesting compared to the pretty basic chords and bass. I love the way that the 2nd verse contests the first. And augh, the bridge is so cool. I love how it is just a little different from the main melody. I also greatly appreciate that it goes straight into the next song (Artificially Intelligence) making the two feel like one long song.

"When The Day Come To An End" I love how the drums open the song and then drop out for the first chorus. It is a really interesting way to start a song and I feel like not enough bands utilize it. The whole chorus is really catchy and full of delicious vocal layering. I also love how the bridge uses "Feeling...seeing...doing...moving" and then contrasting "Feel it... see it... lose it" I think is it neat lyricism.

"Sitting In The Corner (feat. Kacey Musgraves)" I really like this collaboration. Their voices work so well together. Adriel Favela is also on this track adding another voice. I just love how this song proudly and effortlessly goes between styles. Even if me understanding rap in Spanish is far beyond my skill set, It sounds really cool and is catchy, and having so many people on this song is really cool to see. I love the little bits of Mexican influence throughout, especially with the instrumentation of the slower sections and much more obviously the grito yelling.

Honorable mentions!! 🥳🥳🥳

"Aura" I found myself singing along with a lot. It is super catchy and even if it doesn't have a lot to do with the plot of this album, it is a grat vibe and I think it is still representative.

"Foolish" I love the bass on this song. I want to put it in my mouth. I also just like the idea of having a name "stuck to [your] heart" I love how the instrumentals pull in the guitar.

[arrenkae]

Some more Veilguard thoughts:

The siege of Weisshaupt was straight up amazing. 10/10 no notes. I have so many feelings about the Grey Wardens. For all the problems with other factions - they did really well with the Wardens, actually. Maybe unpopular opinion at that point, but I did not like their portrayal in Inquisition at all. Here, it hits all the right notes, just the right mix of heroic, deeply flawed and doomed by the narrative.

I also now feel that a Grey Warden Rook would make for the best story, since we're fighting against the villains who caused all the blights and now are bringing about another mega-blight. Would also make more sense mechanically - yes, previous games also hand-waved us fighting against the darkspawn as non-wardens without getting blighted, but here it feels especially jarring. Mega-blight and all.

Actually, thinking about all that? I feel like the faction system is one of the main problems with the game. It seemed cool at the beginning, but got disappointing really quickly. The way everything has to be divided between The Factions feels really artificial, and makes for some of the weakest narrative points - the elves only being represented by the Veil Jumpers (who are not even a proper Dalish clan!), the Crows becoming a bunch of batman-style good guys, only one area in Minrathous, the Lords of Fortune... just everything about them, to be honest. Hell, even class specializations are tied to the factions - why?? I understand that they were implemented in the game at some point in development and it wasn't that easy to get rid of them. But I still wish we could just be a Grey Warden with more race reactivity (because there is VERY little race reactivity compared to the faction reactivity and I'm disappointed)

Still, the Mourn Watch, even without being particularly story relevant, are super cool. I love everything about them. Emmrich is one of the best dragon age characters EVER. Even if the rest of the game was total shit, meeting him was totally worth it.

I also ended up really liking Davrin. I was worried he'd be overshadowed by Assan - but the thing is, even though a large portion of his dialogue and quest line deals with Assan, it still directly relates to his own character and who Davrin is as a person. The weight of responsibility, the struggles of raising Assan right - it's all very well done. It's not just about a cute pet being cute. Also, as I said before, the Grey Warden stuff hits unexpectedly hard.

Rook keeps giving me "constantly smiling through the pain" vibes. Playing therapist for your party is nothing new for an RPG protagonist, but in this game, with all the nice domestic interactions we see between the companions, being unable to join the party banter (why?? we could in Inquisition) and Rook always acting friendly and supportive, it really feels like we're this part of a friend group who always solves everyone's problems but then gets left out of all the fun group activities. This is probably unintentional, but I think that with time fandom will embrace this characterization for Rook, just as it did with Hawke being a colossal fuckup. It's kind of interesting and tragic, in its own way. Still not a good way to write an RPG protagonist, though.