#I woke up an hour ago and my brain produced this

[luna-the-cretar]

Watching Curse of Strahdanya, and falling in love with these ships and characters, is like watching the Hadestown musical to me.

In Hadestown, the first thing the narrator—Hermes—tells the audience is that this tale is a tragedy. There is no happy ending. And yet, as the show goes on, you forget that, somehow. But not fully. There’s still a little voice, lingering in the back of your mind, telling you that it’s always going to end horribly. And if you’re already familiar with the Greek myth, or the musical itself, then you know exactly how it’ll end. And yet, part of you still roots for Orpheus. To save Eurydice. To not turn around. To ignore the voices in his ear. To bring her home with him.

But. That’s not how the story goes. He always turns around. She always returns to Hadestown. And he always returns alone. And Hermes feels for the audience. He, too, yearns for there to be a day where the story changes, somehow. Of course, it won’t. That’s not how the story goes. But every time he tells the tale, some part of him yearns that maybe, just maybe, Orpheus won’t turn around. He would ignore the voices in his ear. He would bring Eurydice home. But he knows this is all in vain, for the tale is that of a tragedy, and it’ll always end the same.

Curse of Strahdanya is the same way. All the way to the title of the prologue; “The Cursed Expedition”. From the very beginning, they tell us that this tale is a tragedy. No matter what the characters do, no matter how strong they think they are, it will always end the same way. Their fates are set in stone. They will never leave, never get out. Strahdanya always wins.

And yet, the audience yearns for this telling to be different. Maybe if this character made a different choice, maybe if they convinced this character to stay, maybe…maybe…

But it always ends the same. It’s a sad tale. It’s a tragedy. Yet we tell it over and over again, as if maybe our heroes will get a happy ending this time

“To know how it ends/And still begin to sing it again/As if it might turn out this time”

[versethetic]

NOT PERFECT. JUST LOYAL.

i like to keep things real here so i tend to share my slight struggles with loa so that others who’ve gone through the same thing don’t beat themselves up over it.

but i’ve actually only fully understood what it means to live in imagination for a little while now;, and then put it to good use just a couple weeks ago.

despite knowing about the law for over a year…💀

OVER. A. YEAR…💀💀💀

even then, i got so caught up in making the images in my head perfect, or making sure i’m “saying the right affirmations" which obviously didn't help my case

i love reading loa posts because they make me feel nice and inspired and just remind me of my power but i somehow equated that as me overconsuming info and then i would spiral within my own head.

i would barely think of my desires as mine and when i did for only a day or two, i’d then turn around and believe that i wasn’t doing enough, that i need to affirm more or visualize for an hour and walk through every step of my day in my new perfect life or else it wouldn't manifest.

loyal according to merriam webster is "unswerving in allegiance"

all the way up until a couple weeks ago, i was not loyal to the idea that my imagination is all i need. i was not loyal to the idea that the 3d means absolutely nothing in terms of “getting” what you want, because there was nothing for me to get. now, i have become loyal to already having my perfect life.

i am that bitch. i am the prettiest princess. i am the smartest in school. i am the most famous. but i didn't need to have the perfect mindset with loa to realize it.

do you see where i’m going with this?

IMAGINATION IS ALL YOU NEED

granted, i had my days after this realization where i still struggled with techniques or accepting my new life as mine, but now i know that if i don’t identify with these things, it has not a single setback on my manifestations.

no matter what i was feeling, i told myself “i have it, my life is perfect, i am calm, i have it in imagination, the old senses are dead to me, i know what’s in my mind is the real truth”

when loa blogs say that you know you have it, it’s not some cheap trick they spew out because everyone else is saying it. if you imagine what you want, it’s officially set in stone. what you think comes to life.

the 3d is the afterimage, the product of a movie you directed, wrote, produced and starred in. you just need to stick with this fact through thick and thin, sleet or snow.

YOU are what the 3d answers to.

YOU are what the mirror reflects.

YOU decide how simple things are for you.

if you woke up and the old senses in front of your human eyes still show something you don’t like, are you gonna take that as a fact?

when you know and are loyal to the fact that your godly brain is showing you that devoted sp you have? that grand big mansion you live in? that whole new life you’re dwelling in?

NO. you’re not. think of you and you're 4d as BFFs who'll never separate, who tell each other everything and have those bff necklaces and go everywhere and do everything with each other. or imagine you're a ceo and your 4d is a loyal secretary who never asks questions and simply obeys whatever you tell it to do, because it trusts YOU. it works for YOU. however you wanna see it, you and your 4d are locked in 🔐🤞, okay? it is not separate from you, it does not seek guidance or information from anywhere other than YOU.

IT IS YOU.

and it took me a long time to see that.

it might be hard at first and the acceptance might not always be there. but i am making a conscious effort to at LEAST continuously tell myself that my imagination is all that matters. to at LEAST believe that what i want is already mine, and that’s the LEAST you can do as well.

your journey does not have to be perfect. your mindset does not have to be perfect. your feelings do not have to be perfect. mine definitely weren't. you just need to be loyal to your imagination.

[bamsara]

I'm gonna be honest with you guys cause I've been brain dead, IDK whats wrong with me but executive dysfunction is so bad that patreon stickers are taking ages to pack and I'll sit in front of my word document without writing anything substantial for hours. Two days ago I woke up and couldn't remember how old I was or what my address was or the date but I could remember what was in the fridge and that I had to do laundry, I have a horrid eating and shower schedule and idk what is wrong with me but yeah if im slow at producing content or being online, I promise I'm still hyperfixating and making stuff there's just something Wrong With Me rn so sorry if im slow lskfhsldkghsdl

Anyway I got cool stuff in the mail so give me ten min so I can show

[harrietwritesstuff]

whumpcember 2024: "you're not supposed to be up and about"

before that though, apologies that whumpcember is a. not as regular as angstober and b. is sort of... just turning into mildly generic hurt/comfort ficlets - my brain isn't vibing with some of the prompts, or with writing at all lately which is mildly annoying but whatevs.

1kish hurt/comfort/angst/fluff-type thing under the cut x

Maksym folds his arms and frowns at Volodymyr who looks back innocently from his seat behind the desk. He’s still clad in the same soft grey button down shirt Maks had gently helped him into the night before - he’d been too tired, too sore to move; drowsy and listless in the stark moonlight. His hair is sleep rumpled, his trousers creased. Blinking slowly, he rubs a knuckle against his eyebrow and swallows a yawn. There’s an empty cup of coffee near his elbow, scattered papers; the image is one of lingering tiredness.

“You’re not supposed to be up and about.”

Maks catches sight of a folded blanket, a squashed looking cushion bunched up behind Vova, a makeshift support for his back that he’d clearly decided would be serviceable and a flicker of frustration nestles in his stomach.

“Mmm?” Vova’s voice is rough, half-distracted as he taps his pen against the desk. His phone vibrates unobtrusively and his attention flickers to the screen for a moment and then back to Maks.

“You shouldn't be working. The doctor asked you to do two things. Take the painkillers you've been given and the other thing, that foreign concept that you seem to struggle to understand, much less execute - rest.”

��I have rested. I'm fine; it’s not as if working involves some sort of strenuous activity.”

“...it's not a one-and-done scenario, sir. You're not magically well rested because you had an extra hours sleep and woke up at six rather than the ungodly hour of five like normal-”

“Two hours actually.”

“Oh yes because two hours extra sleep–”

Vova waves a hand as though to dismiss the utterance, shifting forward as though to refocus his attention on the notes before him. He scowls suddenly as the movement produces a sudden sharp jab of pain that radiates from his ribs, snaking down his back. His breath catches in his throat for a moment and he swears softly under his breath. His hand flexes into a fist, his knuckles white, nails digging into the soft skin of his palm. Maksym tries not to roll his eyes again and promptly fails. He manages to swallow a sarcastic retort however, not entirely sure how far he can push it, settling instead on something truthfully neutral.

“As I was saying, two hours extra sleep isn't giving yourself time to heal.”

“I don’t need time. It's just bruising - it'll fade. Not much worse than when you launched yourself at me during training not that long ago. I was black and blue for weeks.” His deadpan glare doesn’t seem to indicate if his words are affectionate ribbing, or actual annoyance. “It just so happened that this time, you tackling me to the ground wasn’t in the gym onto a mat, and was instead onto a decidedly more solid floor with the associated weight of a gun and a bulletproof vest on you at the same time and you are actually very heavy–”

Despite Volodymyr’s light enough comment, for a sickening moment, the events of the previous day fill Maksym's head. The grating whine of a drone overhead, the flash of fear on Volodymyr's face, the sudden press of their bodies together in the dust and dirt, aware just then of the fragility of his body, of the pulse beating in Vova’s neck, the white knuckled grip on his sweatshirt, the quiet thrum of his heart–

He swallows, choking down the sudden, gnawing sense of guilt; that this is his fault. 

“Broken ribs and bruising are two different things. You’re hurt-”

“It’ll all heal, it’s nothing to worry about. It doesn’t stop me from doing my job-”

“You'll get better quicker if you just rest- You'll wear yourself out.”

You are wearing yourself out. I can see it. Because I know you. I know what you're like. You'll just keep going the same way you have done for the last three years, until one day, your body will force you to stop.

As though he had somehow heard the unspoken thoughts; something shifts in the room, the atmosphere suddenly thicker. Vova glances down at his desk.

“I can't- stop working; just for this-” He gestures dismissively at his own body, the bruises littering his skin beneath the shirt. He is silent for a long while, and for once, Maks doesn’t speak, waiting for the continuation that he knows will come eventually, an explanation for why. 

“I owe them this- at least; my every waking hour so it– so that none of this, this sacrifice and hurt and– it will not have been in vain-”

His voice is suddenly very quiet, very old.

Maksym's irritation falls away rapidly, replaced by the sudden pang of grief that lives inside him. Of course. He thinks of Lychakiv Cemetery; the endless rows of flags in the Field of Mars. He thinks of Vova, so often a small figure among the fluttering banners, the flowers in his hands a paltry offering.

His heart aches.

“There's no debt to be paid, Vova. Certainly not one where you- your health is collateral. I promise.”

His voice is gentler now, kinder somehow as he steps forward and takes the pen from Vova's shaking hand, placing it to one side. He crouches down, guiding Vova's dark eyes to his face.

“Give yourself today at least then- please? for me- for– for them. You need to rest. Let that be an act of service in itself. Ukraine needs you- but she needs you well, and whole. You need to get better..”

Both men are quiet until finally, Vova nods tentatively. His eyes shine almost uncomfortably bright in the light from the windows - everything drowning in unshed grief as he stands shakily, his shoulders crumbling suddenly, the weight of it too much to bear. Maks holds him, as gently as he can in the echoing silence.

If the shoulder of Maksym’s sweatshirt is damp with tears and, if he feels the thin, shuddering sadness run through Vova as he cradles him - he never says.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Hope is Dangerous...

A machine elf woke me up this morning.

(Link has description penned by the ethno-botanist who named the phenomenon.)

Now, I have already heard of them, and I know what they're supposed to sound like, so if my half-sleeping brain wanted to produce one for me, it has instructions. Also, I'm operating on 1.5 hours of sleep right now, tops. Consciousness gets gooey under these levels of stress. Scientifically, this is a useless experience.

Nevertheless, a loud, excited, unintelligible gabble - distinct in that way from Disney-esque squirrel-speak - woke me from fitful dreams. And then the spouse came in and told me it was about time to get ready for my fateful doctor appointment.

I've had thyroid issues for at least three decades, probably born with them. My number was low (standard panels only check one, of three), they threw enough Synthroid at me to get the number into "normal range" and never gave me a diagnosis. I still had symptoms, nobody cared. They tried to treat my anxiety with antidepressants - which never worked. Because my thyroid number was "normal," you see. Of course, I was gaining weight because I didn't eat properly and exercise, even though none of the diets and exercises worked either. My thyroid number was "normal." I was just a lazy liar!

My "family doctor" (I'm lucky to have one!) "prescribed" megadoses of iodine, and sea kelp, and a ketogenic diet. I begged him to send me to an endocrinologist, almost from the first appointment. I told him the same story I've told you, plus more. Finally, my spouse accompanied me to an appointment and told him to give me the referral. He did, but I couldn't get an appointment with the thyroid specialist for months. Today was that appointment.

I have had so many doctors stop listening, glaze over, and do the minimum amount needed to get me out of the office. I've also had a bunch be very enthused about listening and helping me! Only to disengage and glaze over when it turns out the minimum amount doesn't cure me and I keep coming back asking for help. Pssht! Women! Am I right, fellas?

Today, this guy had run a full blood panel with all three numbers. For months in advance, I stopped taking all the useless supplements the "family doctor" pushed on me, to make sure the guy had an accurate result. The first thing that happened when I came to the office - a tech weighed me and checked how tall I am. THAT IS NOT A GOOD SIGN. I waited, expecting to hear, You have an unhealthy BMI, here's a diet, you need to exercise.

What I got, after some very sincere (seeming!) discussion was: "You have Hashimoto's, your immune system is attacking your thyroid, and you're probably one of the 5% of people who can't convert Synthroid to every type of thyroid hormone you need."

THIS IS HOW I SELF-DIAGNOSED YEARS AGO, BUT I NEVER GOT ANYONE TO LISTEN.

I told the doctor I'd tried Armour Thyroid, and it was wonderful, but I couldn't tolerate an effective dose. (I tried so hard to tolerate it! I split my dose, I built up to it, I worked for months, but the side effects didn't go away. It killed the anxiety I've lived with all my life. Boom! Gone! And then I had to stop taking it and, like a nightmare, over about a week, all that mental anguish came back.)

He said: "It might be the binding agent." THIS ALSO JIBED WITH MY RESEARCH! "Let's try it from a compounding pharmacy. If that doesn't work, get back in touch with me, there are more things we can try." Ha-ha, and also, bonus round: "No, don't take sea kelp, don't megadose with iodine, that can make your thyroid stop working altogether." And! "I'm going to talk to your doctor."

I AM VALID! But, I've heard that before. And when the first thing doesn't work, I lose all my traction. I am hoping so hard. Armour Thyroid did help, but if I can't tolerate it, I'm setting myself up for another Flowers for Algernon where my crippling anxiety goes away and comes right back.

Machine elves seem like they like us. The seem to have the ability to create beautiful things with words, and they're so jazzed to teach us how to do it, that they try to create this information into our heads all at once instead of slowing down to explain. I'm a writer. Broadly-speaking, that is also my jam, so I'm in favour of the little guys, real or imagined.

My dude - or genderless construct, or however you identify - if you're watching me right now, thanks for giving my reality a nudge towards something better. Now, for god's sake, keep it up!

[positivelyapunovexponent-good]

It is only 9AM and today is already wretched.

Woke up at 5:50AM, exhausted. Stomach hurts. Tried for an hour to fall back asleep but couldn't. And of course, the mystery bone that appeared on the porch of the house is still there. The bone materialized two days ago. Probably a chicken bone. Neatly arranged on our porch railing. At least I hope it's a chicken bone. That's probably the least unsettling type of bone it could be.

My housemates say they didn't put it there and I believe them. We don't even eat chicken generally. Or... other things that could have produced a bone of those dimensions. So who else? Raccoons? The Planks*? A serial killer? (a chicken serial killer???)

The night before last the bone was moved from one side of the porch to the other. Still neatly placed. Roughly parallel to the wood grain.

The bone is attracting yellowjackets. I do not like yellowjackets. Well this is untrue- I like yellowjackets quite a lot actually. They're fun to learn about. They're important to the ecosystem. But I am wildly spheksophobic and I cannot leave the house while they are There. On the bone. On the porch. Right. By. The Door.

I am trapped and it is a problem. I am missing a math TA meeting. It's an optional TA meeting, but I feel bad because the professor is bringing food. Probably food I can't eat. My stomach hurts. But it's a nice thought and I feel impolite.

Maybe I should make an excuse. How should the email go? "dear professor I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting there's a BUG on a BONE and I do not know how it got there. The bone, I mean. The bug presumably flew sincerely Svet PS the bug is a yellowjacket** that's why it can fly

PPS Did you know adult yellowjackets primarily consume plant sugars? It's actually the larvae that need the protein in meat. It's a sweet, that the yellowjacket is on the bone specifically in effort to feed its own. I hope it gets enough protein. Still scared of it though

PPPS Yellowjackets are in fact the most eusocial of all wasp species! That's why they're so aggressive, they have something bigger than themselves to protect. unlike me I'm just scared for my own skin. And I'm not aggressive at all in fact I'm rather passive and pathetic. I wish I was more like a yellowjacket "

yeahh maybe I should not write an email it sounds daft when I put it in words. The yellowjacket is minding its own business. I should just be able to leave. But I can't make myself get through the front door. Stupid brain. Stupid bone. Why is the bone where it shouldn't be??

so- guess I'll just watch the bone in hopes the yellowjacket is kind enough to give me an opening to leave before my class starts at 11AM :/. Hope the chicken serial killer menacing the house doesn't get me first. Because I do fit the victim profile, given that I'm being rather chicken right now

*I named all the squirrels in our yard Max Plank because he's my favorite physicist. Collectively they're The Planks, naturally

**actually scientifically yellowjackets are order Hymenoptera while bug scientifically only refers to order Hemiptera so it would be inaccurate to call the yellowjacket a bug even for alliterative reasons, which is another reason I probably shouldn't send the above email. Can't have the math professor I work for knowing I don't have my insect orders straight. what a mortifying thought

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (837): Tue 2nd Jul 2024

This morning I had a sore throat and a runny nose as soon as I woke up. I was determined to get rid before tomorrow when I travel down to London to see AC/DC. I immediately went around to the corner shop to get some ginger beer but they didn’t have any so I settled for tonic water which was frankly fucking repulsive. I can't believe there are actually people who drink this stuff for pleasure. Surely the only thing you would use this shit for other than remedying a sore throat would be using it to drown someone in it so that in addition to suffocating they also have a taste in their mouth that feels like sandpaper marinated in grapefruit juice. Later on my old mate Pearce messaged me replying to a message I'd sent him asking if he was okay as I'd heard that he'd had a few health issues lately. We got to chatting and he told me that the other day he'd remembered something that me and Halilaj did in school that I've absolutely no memory of whatsoever. According to Pearce our class got taken to a different school that had just installed a new state of the art computer room and while we were there they seperated us into groups for a challenge to win a prize. We were told that we had to use Powerpoint (this is how long ago we're talking, so long ago that Powerpoint was considered "state of the art") to produce modern retellings of Biblical stories. He says that Halilaj and I were told we needed to make a modern day retelling of the Good Samaritan but instead we made something called "The Quest For Golden Carrot" which was about a rabbit whose owner gets knocked over by a speeding car in a hit and run attack and the only way of reviving the kid is finding a magical "golden carrot". Apparently our teachers absolutely raged at me and Halilaj for not taking the project seriously and apologised to the staff at the school we were visiting. You would think this would be the kind of goofy shit that would be embedded in my brain but for the life of me I can not remember it. I so wish I'd started this blog of mine when I was at school. So many memories are just lost forever now. Granted most of them were fucking pointless but they still would've given me a good laugh.

Tonight's Hollyoaks was fucking shit frankly. I didn't care about any of the characters featured and the storylines were fucking boring. I'm fully aware that my experience was probably mae evern worse by my cold and the rancid taste of tonic water but I still think that if I was feeling fit and healthy this episode still would have sucked. It was so back that instead of doing my usual thing of Tweeting silly things based on what's happening during the episode I spent the entire half hour coming up with ideas for better storylines which I think are pretty damn good and that I'm now going to attempt to sell to the makers of the show:

Diane turns out to be two Jack the Ripper Liberty develops an addiction to Twister Lollies Marie develops body dysmorphia but only on one side of her body so starts lifting weights with her right arm only Peri gets a knock on the head and believes herself to be a princess on a quest to find a golden carrot James cheats on Ste with Gene Simmons from KISS

[lovenojudgement]

May 13, 2023 10:03AM

Rainbow.

I woke up a few hours ago. Happy and excited of what I dreamt about. But the emotions and everything else started to drop because of some realizations when I saw that my mom’s messages were most likely chosen to be left unread. It is not the first time. I have always felt that when it comes to my family, it’ll always be something like a burden to be done. It feels bad to see things like this that no matter how my family tries to be close to him, it’s nothing. Which is why I decided to talk to some of my friends back home instead. Releasing my worries, my thoughts and most importantly the need of someone to talk to about how rocky the road is with my current relationship is getting. And how much it is affecting me physically, mentally, and emotionally already. I am holding on and I will be holding on. What I can emphasize in this paragraph is that I appreciate my friends back home. I can truly say that I may have a few but they are the best that I could ever have. They have always been the best support system that I have ever since I came to work far away from home.

Anyhow, I suddenly thought of the rainbow that I saw the other day. I tried to learn more about it. More than how little I probably know about it since I was a kid. I decided to search about it in Google.

Rainbows are formed:

When sunlight hits a rain droplet, some of the light is reflected. The electromagnetic spectrum is made of light with many different wavelengths, and each is reflected at a different angle. Thus, spectrum is separated, producing a rainbow.

Seeing the rainbow:

An observer standing in the right place will see the dispersed sunlight reflected back towards them. Light scattered by many drops reaching the observers eye will appear as a colorful rainbow. Different colors exit the droplets at angles varying by around two degrees from red to violet. The red light seen by an observer comes from drops slightly higher in the atmosphere than the drops that scatter violet light towards the observer.

The colors seen are not a pure spectrum, there is some mixing and blurring of the colors. The human eye can pick out many hues but it is still common to think of a rainbow as having seven colors, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet (ROYGBIV).

In a resting mode, my brain usually tends to think of a lot of things. And now, it is the rainbow that had brought so much to my thoughts. After reading quite a few information about it, I had correlations about it in life which may not sense to you, but it does for me.

Rainbows will not be formed without sunlight and a rain droplet. Just like how our lives go. We shed tears and feel a ray of sunlight touching our lives through people or situations that may brighten up our lives before we see how bright our lives can be. As per what I have read and placed here, it is said that an observer must be standing in the right place before they would be able to see the reflected light back towards them. Then again, just like our lives, we often miss to appreciate our life’s rainbow when we are not on that chapter of our story yet. We might not even know that rainbows exist during our walk-through life until our eyes drown from tears first.

I hope that the person reading this would likely appreciate every single rainbow that they will be seeing. That it would remind them that no matter how heavy our eyes may be carrying, in time that we get to stand at that perfect spot, a rainbow will show up and would give you a smile. Reminding that it might have taken you forever to get there but you were still able to reach that right place where you can see how colorful life can be.

"Always try to be the ray of sunlight to a everyone despite of how rainy your day might get."

DGPS

[hybridcodex]

AI-Inspired Nightmare Tale - Part 1

A friend was playing around with Midjourney v5 AI Discord server, in which you enter code and it creates highly accurate images that "grow" over time at the behest of the a.i.. He threw out a couple very simple, wide-open prompts, with impressive results. Prompts (the AI returned a number of variations for each) :

1) /imagine the Tower of Babel in the style of Salvador Dali 2) /imagine the Tower of Babel in the style of artwork associated with layers of hell in Dante's Inferno

I saw the images it produced on his Facebook page recently, and how the five AI-created towers progressively descended into five variations, each image of the tower and it's landscape darker than the last, ultimately turning into a completely chaotic looking scene, with the fifth and final tower image representing the decay of the land and everything within it. What surprised me even more, though, was what last night had in store for me, directly correlated to the tower(s) the AI had produced, the fifth and last iteration of the tower being the one my brain latched on to most strongly. As I laid into bed and fell into a deep sleep, I couldn't have foreseen how this small experiment of his would effect my brain. The nightmare that would follow, seemingly everlasting but in truth only encapsulated within three hours of sleep, was still vividly fresh in my mind when I awoke in terror. With haste, I flung myself out of bed and rushed to the computer to type this at 3 am last night, posting it on the aforementioned friend's page, and written/directed at him, as he was the master of the tower in my nightmare. I will try to describe this AI-initiated and infused dream to you in the following, dark-apocalyptic written reflection of his image's effect on my mind. I didn't need to think deeply when I typed this, strangely; I just wrote, feeling sickly and sleep deprived, the darkness of my life coming out in this dream and in the piece crafted to retain it.

Here is my post/writing/tale:

I just woke up from the most profoundly dark and nightmarish dream I can recall, and it featured none other than you, and your "dark tower of a.i. Babylon.", as I saw it several days ago.. It is still so fresh in my brain, I couldn't leave it there and return to sleep. I had to share it before it left my conscious forever. Here is my experience. The dream began with a dystopian feel, and it felt routine, as if it had been going for ages…a feeling dreams often instill. I was walking throughout the tower, alone, hoping the 'others', whoever they were, wouldn't find me, or judge me in any way, as I lived a secure and guarded life in comparison to them, one they were uninhibitedly curious about. I shared this curiosity for them, and felt ashamed of it. You lived in the tower with me, as both friend and master of the domain. The others glanced inward from the exterior but could not gain access to us, even though moon-colored, possibly fogged over windows riddled the castle with their large, anxiety inducing holes in the tower presenting a clear security risk. They glared inwards still, day and night, almost like starving hyenas crossed with hateful Bolsheviks. I began to feel the ripe tension of the atmosphere created by these others…or was it me creating it? I could not face this possibility at the time. My responsibility was too great, though I still was not entirely sure of it's magnitude, and this bothered me in depth. I took three trips up to you in the entire dream, where you resided seemingly at the steeple of the tower; one the first night, two the second. The first walk up to what surely seemed the top of the tower held your chambers, with you sitting in the 'master chair', as you did, or rather I saw you doing. so many years ago as teens, in your home. You were casually monitoring the tower via the screen before you with spartan looking computer equipment for any and all threats. As I approached you, I could feel your attention turn to me without you moving a muscle. I thought, "Did I pass the test? Whatever it was, is he content to let me stay?" You said a few words, and though lost to me now, they relieved me; I remember that feeling distinctly. I was still a resident in your tower…our tower. I was safe.

[noodlesandpanic]

♡ Just another day playing blogger girl simulator: ♡

Woke up like an hour ago and made a gluten free brekky sandwhich with an over-medium ish egg :s and some guac and it was soooo good. Minus the gf bread. I've only had one kind of good gluten free bread and it was from Sprout's, and even more expensive than usual lol. Now I listen to Kim Petras "Slut Pop" which makes my brain produce instant serotonin. I'm going to vacuum after a lil pink bloggy time, then get ready to see my boyfriend. I've had a super bad cold for like 3 days now, today is day 4 and I'm doing a lot better but still feeling coughy and congested.

I am beyond stressed about finances but I just have to trust that shit will come together just in time for March. I also have an interview for front desk at a massage place on Tuesday, I'm gonna have to work 2 part time jobs to make it by with school :c. I really want to work at the lash extension place the most though so I can get free extensions! Plus selling memberships for extensions is a million times easier than selling massage memberships, periodt.

My Latuda has been doing a really bad thing to my muscles, it's not quite as strong as the akathisia I experienced in the past with Abilify, but it's definitely still in that realm. I'm gonna stop taking dayquil/nyquil today and try it out with the full 40mg one last time to see if maybe the cold meds were causing it, or if it's just the medication itself taking full effect now. If so, I'll have to start splicing my pills down to take 20mg or 30mg because 40mg are the smallest pills I can get prescribed. I LOVE how it makes my brain feel, my body is just struggling a bit now.

Now I dance to my little girly pop spotify playlist which has lots of Gaga, Britney, Nelly Furtado etc and dance looking like an actual old sprouting potato. But it feels good to me, and no one can see me but maybe my ancestors so it's okay.

Also, I REALLY want to go to Disneyland ugh. Okay. I believe that's all I have to say now at this time. Thanks for tuning in or not, this blog is really just for me anyways.

Meow. (meaning "goodbye" in this context)

♡

[timid-orchid]

Captive Part 1/?

Pairing Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Kidnapped and experimented on by Umbrella, the only thing you wanted so desperately was to finally be free.

Warnings: RE typical stuff, zombies, human experiments

Word count: 2,226

Some people wish that they could do something extraordinary before they die, others just wish to lead a normal life. You were the ladder.

The normal mundane things were what you enjoyed about life. You always knew how something would go, and if it went wrong, you knew how to correct it.

But you didn't know how to correct this.

Where to even begin?

You've had a lot of time to think about the choices you've made in the past. Being locked in a cell with no way out grants you ample time to regret the things you've done.

It all started on a normal Friday evening, your friend dragging you to the bar. You had worked long shifts without much of a break, so she wanted to go let loose, bringing you along to ease some stress.

After guzzling drink after drink, your friend ran off to the restroom, and that was the last time you saw her.

You went to look for her, getting lost in the process. It was a new area that you weren't too familiar with, the bar being way out of the way on the back street of some small town.

You searched all over the bar, then decided to search the alley behind the bar, your friend had a bad habit of getting lost just like you, so you thought it wouldn't hurt to check everywhere around the bar.

That was your biggest regret.

Some men had jumped you when you reached the dark end of the alley, shoving a needle into your neck before you could react.

Once you woke up you realized you were locked away in some cell, wondering what the hell happened.

How long ago was that? Four months? Five months?

You didn't know what to make of the place you were in, you thought it was some kind of human trafficking gig. Why else would someone kidnap you?

But you quickly found out the real reason why you were taken away.

It wasn’t long after you woke up that a guard came to take you to a scientist that had been assigned to you. As you followed the guard out, you looked around for your friend in the other cells, sighing in relief when you realized she wasn’t in any of them. You hoped that meant that she made it home safely that night.

You met your assigned scientist—Dr. Barlowe—shortly after. Barlowe was a thorough man, he wanted to explain everything he did before he did it.

“Hello subject 0377, I’m Dr. Barlowe. I’ll be running some blood work before I administer anything into your system.” He had explained.

That was all he needed to say before your fight or flight response kicked in and you bolted for the door, sadly, they knew that that would happen and stationed a guard right outside the door. They tied you to the chair after dragging you back into the lab room.

Barlowe quickly drew your blood, humming in satisfaction at the color of it. He said it looked…healthy, but all blood looked the same to you. He left for a little over an hour to run the tests while you were still tied up.

He came back smiling, saying everything looked to be in great shape, and that you were ready to receive whatever the hell it was that he wanted to shove into you.

“This, my dear 0377, is called the T-Virus.” He explained, pulling out a vial and needle. “It is the combination of an earlier virus and leech DNA.”

He almost moaned out the information, making you shudder in disgust.

“Do you know what mitochondria is?” He inquired.

“The…powerhouse of the cell?”

“Indeed. This virus kills and replaces any mitochondria in infected cells, then combines the cells to produce enough energy for motor and lower brain functions, making most of the body’s systems redundant.”

Your head spun in circles trying to digest all the information at once.

“Although, it does cause severe necrosis of the host, uh, the host being you, of course.”

You gulped, that didn’t sound good.

“It also consumes the hosts’ frontal lobes, making the infected have increased aggression. That will be one of the signs I will look for after injecting you with this.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

He placed the vial down on the countertop and dug around the papers for a clipboard.

“Because learning is fun, and don’t you want to know what goes in your body?”

“I guess…”

“Another thing I’ll look for is psychopathic rage and hunger, since your hypothalamus won’t be able to regulate the flood of neurotransmitters, enzymes, or hormones after being injected.”

He found the clipboard, attaching a blank sheet of paper. Then he pulled on gloves and grabbed the vial and a needle.

He hit play on a recorder he had in his breast pocket, saying the date, time, and subject number.

“Administrating one dose of the T-Virus to subject 0377.” He murmured, shoving the needle into your neck.

You felt a pinch when the needle broke skin, but that pinch quickly turned into a burning once the liquid was pushed into your blood stream. Nothing too unbearable though.

“Dose administered, documenting results.”

He threw the needle into a sharp’s basket, then grabbed his clipboard so he could write down everything that happened to you.

“One-minute mark, no visible changes noted.”

He almost sounded disappointed.

“Five-minute mark, no visible changes noted. Subject 0377, how do you feel?”

You couldn’t tell a difference, wondering if all the things he said before were a lie to try and scare you.

“I feel the same as before.”

He hummed, furiously writing on the paper. You weren’t sure what all he would write down since all you were doing was sitting on a chair.

“Ten-minute mark, no visible changes noted.”

“Do you feel angry?” He asked, eyes peering at you from over the clipboard.

“The only anger I feel is from getting kidnapped and injected with a fucking virus, other than that I could frolic in a field of flowers.” You spat.

“Anger noted.”

You rolled your eyes, getting annoyed by everything.

He had you tied to that chair for over an hour, taking notes every five minutes, although there weren’t any changes, none that you could tell, anyways.

After that, a guard escorted you back to your cell, where you waited, bored out of your mind. This happened a few more times, each time you would fight against your guard, losing each time until you finally quit fighting.

Barlowe kept injecting you with the T-Virus, thinking maybe he didn’t use enough the first few times. You had quit fighting against him as well, it was better to save your strength for when you would need it the most.

At first you thought this was all some sort of bad dream, but that thought would be squashed every time you woke up on the cold, hard floor of your cell.

You watched other subjects go to get experimented on, walking the same path you had, except they never came back. You were the only one so far that came back, and the others were weary of you because of it. You’ve seen the looks they gave you as you passed their cells, they didn’t trust you.

They would tell the other subjects to not talk to you, that you were a spy for the facility. That made your whole experience that much worse, having to go through all of this alone on top of the experimentation was just too much.

You would spend all of your days in the corner of your cell where you slept on the floor since they didn’t provide beds to the subjects, but you found it hard to fall asleep anyways.

The sound of a fight breaking out woke you from your nightmare. You yawned, stretching out while on the floor, the months sleeping on the hard surface was starting to take its toll on you, making your back ache often.

You strained your ears, trying to find out what was going on, but between the shouting and physical fighting, you couldn’t make out anything useful.

Fights were a common thing in the cells, a daily occurrence really. Mostly between a subject and guard, but subjects fighting each other was just as common. Either from not trusting each other or because on looked at the other in a manner the first didn’t like.

You pushed yourself to your feet, stretching some more as you peered through your cell door, trying to see what was going on. A guard had one of the new subjects down in a head lock, the subject must’ve tried to escape.

You never tried to escape your cell, the consequence of getting caught was just too great. They would bring the escapee to what they call the “T-Room”, letting the infected eat the escapee as slowly and painfully as possible.

The guards loved the new subjects, they could beat them without getting into trouble, blaming it all on the subject not being cooperative. But if the guard had any reason to send a subject to the T-Room…well, the subject must’ve put up one hell of a fight to escape.

“0377, ya ready to go see Barlowe?”

Glancing over at Thomas, one of the more intense guards, you nodded your head.

Thomas watched the other guard deal with the new subject, shaking his head while having a sadistic grin rest on his face.

“Damn, is that one there givin’ ya such an ass-whoopin’?” He asked the other guard as he chuckled.

“Not today, this one is going to the T-Room. I'm tired of putting up with his bullshit”

You shuddered, the newbie didn’t know what he had coming to him. He should’ve just stayed in his cell like a good captive. He should’ve waited until the perfect opportunity to escape presented itself, just like you did.

“C’mon, 0377. Barlowe was out in the hall dancin’ ‘round sayin’ he got somethin’ new for ya. We don’t wanna keep the good doc waitin’.” Thomas drawled, leading the way down the hall to the stairs.

“Maybe what the doc's got is somethin’ fun, maybe it’d make ya more…lively.” He laughed, going to the fourth floor and opening the door to Barlowe’s office.

“Now ya stay put here, ya know the drill by now, don’t ya?”

You nodded, walking in and sitting in the chair that you’ve been tied to many times before. You didn’t have to wait long before Barlowe practically pranced into the room with a gleaming smile on his face, eyes sparkling with joy.

“0377, do I have a treat for you today.”

He pulled a vial from his pocket, shaking it just a bit to let the particles within mix. “I finally got ahold of the G-Virus. It took me years to convince Umbrella to let me experiment with it, and seeing as you survived the four doses of the T-Virus, I thought you would be the perfect candidate for the experiment.”

“Lucky me.” You grumbled.

After getting out his clipboard and slipping his gloves on, he shoved the needle into the vial, pulling out the virus and shoving it into your neck.

“Administrating one dose of the G-Virus to subject 0377.”

Discarding the needle and gloves, he ran over to his clipboard to take notes.

You didn’t feel a difference with this virus, just like with the first.

He was obviously disappointed by the time he finished his notes and made Thomas escort you back to your cell. You swear he wanted you to get infected and die.

“Did the doc have somethin’ fun for ya?” Thomas questioned as he opened the door to your cell.

“Just another failed virus.” You muttered, heading for your sleeping corner.

“Ya some kinda freak, huh?” He chuckled as he slammed the door shut, “Barlowe must be havin’ a hell o’ time fuckin’ with ya.”

“Unfortunately.”

He finally left you alone. Alone to rot away in a cold, dark cell. You left the cell every other day, only to go get tested on, then it was right back to the cell. Wash, rinse, repeat.

You were sick of it, hoping that one of these times you’d actually turn just so you could get out of this stupid cell forever. Whether it’d be from your death or your undeath, you didn’t care which one.

You just wanted to be free.

“I’ve been trying to mix the T-Virus and G-Virus together, and I think I've finally outdone myself.” Barlowe gloated a few days later, practically shoving the needle in you the second he came into the room.

That experiment ended in the same way as the others: no infection noted, blood drawn right after to see what the virus did to your body on a cellular level, then you were sent back to your cell.

The routine was starting to wear on you, making you antsy, or was it one of the viruses that flowed through your veins? Were the viruses even in you anymore? Or were they like the flu, initial infection then recovery or death?

You weren’t sure on anything of it, the only thing you were sure of was that you were going to escape the facility you were locked in.

You were going to make Umbrella pay for what they’ve done to you.

[aomineavenue]

betrayal

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Genre: angst (like honestly, tell me what else do I know to write for?)

Summary: finding the other cheated.

Word Count: 1k+

Mia’s General Taglist: 

@luvelyxp​ @paripedia​ @bokukiyoom​ @sunnyatsumu​ @centuress​ @doggonudez​ @newfriendjen​ @kodzukrn​ @anjvxmmv​ @keijikunn​ @maramalademadara​ @chaelysian​ 

mia speaks:

annnd, i’m back from my little break? I’m feeling a little better. I’m writing on my own pace though, I’m avoiding using my gadgets as much. But anywayyy, thank you so much for everyone’s love and patience. 

If it’s not too much, please leave a little COMMENT on this piece or at least REBLOG if you like it. Thank you so much! 

"Oh! I'm sorry!" You cry out, throwing your hands up in the air and letting out a dry laugh, "I didn't mean to throw that vase at you, it was an accident!" Your rampage began, anything you can get your hands on, a book, the tv remote, a magazine, a pillow, just anything, was thrown around the room and he dodged it the best that he could. 

Betrayal. 

It's a violation of a presumptive contract, trust, or confidence that produces moral and psychological conflict amongst individuals. It's considered one of the most painful, traumatising experiences any human may stumble upon throughout their existence. Discovering such an act from someone we trust, may often lead to various emotions that pull the reality rug from under us.

It comes in many forms. Such as abandonment, breaking promises and even the spread of vicious lies behind someone's back. 

In your case, however, it's when you come to face reality that the man you agreed to marry just a few months prior, was nowhere near faithful as he claimed to be. Or to put it simply, the bastard was having an affair. 

You had been too preoccupied with wedding plans, that you grew ignorant of the blunt signs visible to the naked eye. You were foolish. The two of you haven't even tied the knot yet and there he was, already breaking the sacred promise of a marriage. 

For a brief second, you had foolishly wanted nothing more than to look the other way. When he had stumbled home in such an ungodly hour, drunk off his ass, you had wanted nothing more than to reprimand his behaviour as he woke you up from your slumber. As you were about to, however, the whiff of an unfamiliar fruity aroma had attacked your senses the second you had stepped into his proximity. 

Of course, you weren't the type of woman to berate their significant other over such a trifling concept without hearing his side of the story, you knew such behaviour will be a downfall for any relationship. 

You brushed such an idea off, as much as the scent was bothering you, there was no use in questioning him in his intoxicated state. Well, that is, until you had stepped closer and that's when you saw it.

Bruises, no doubt growing darker as seconds passed by, littered decoratively on his skin, as if left intentionally on his neck for the world to see. For you to see.

That's when your own world falls apart. The walls that the both of you had built together to strengthen your relationship, crumbling apart, taking what you had presumed were strong foundations along with it. 

You actually find it hilarious how, just moments ago, he had been stumbling into the shared apartment the two of you had worked so hard for, drunk off his ass, a giggling mess, not being able to comprehend the words that left his mouth. Then all of that changed the moment your lips moved to spew accusations towards his direction, it was as if the alcohol had escaped out of his system almost immediately through the sweat he had produced, obviously from the fear of the consequences of his actions. 

He calls out your name desperately to capture your attention, you wanted to leave the apartment you called home right this second, the atmosphere suffocating you further. You try your best to blink away the tears, but you know it's impossible as your vision grows glossy. 

"Please," he cries out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you back, "Please just wait, let's—"

"Oikawa," you croak, he flinches from your tone and how you addressed him by his last name. He begs, he cries, telling you to call him Tooru, pleading with you with his desperate eyes. "Oikawa," you repeat, wincing from his tight grip as you turn to face him, his heart clenches to see your eyes filled with nothing but hate and tears, the love he had grown accustomed to seeing, nowhere to be found. "Oikawa, let go!" You shake your wrist out of his hold, refusing to give him the satisfaction of you staying, whatever for anyway? The idea of listening to his excuses only breaks your heart further, you didn't want to see him, not right now, maybe not ever. You certainly didn't want to hear how such bruises even came about to taint his skin. You didn't even want to look at them anymore, you didn't want to look at him. The sight of his disheveled state, the bruises on his neck taunting you, squeezing your heart and you're finding it even harder to breathe. 

His desperation shows as he follows you, or rather blocks you from your very evident goal, reaching the front door to escape this sham of a relationship. "Please, let me explain. It was an accident—"

The sight of the tears forming in his own eyes makes you laugh, despite your heart hurting, that it was being pulled apart and all you wanted to do was dissolve into tears, anger began taking over your emotions and to Oikawa, it was clear as the night sky despite the alcohol still swimming in his system, that his begging was futile. 

"An accident?" You bark, features contorting into anger as your fingernails bury into your palms, "Do you take me for someone who lacks brain cells? Letting a woman kiss you? That's an accident?"

He winces from the harshness of your tone as he watches you move in the small living room that once radiated so much love and warmth. He knows he fucked up, he knows his answers were no use. The very idea of cheating was taboo for you and what did he do? He fucked up. He knows whatever form of reasoning will never be enough, but he knows he wants to fix the damage he had done. "Please, just listen. It really was just an accident. Baby, you have to—"

"Don't call me that!" You snap at him, using what little energy you have left to push him away from you, his scent mixed with the aroma of alcohol and the fruity perfume were enough to suffocate you. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

His heart hurts upon hearing those words but he continues begging, dropping down to his knees in front of you but you couldn't even bring yourself to care. The mere sound of his voice reaching your ears were enough to fuel the enraged flames surrounding your heart. He tries to approach you, as cautiously as he could but you respond quickly to his actions, taking a step back. 

Silence. 

The cold air blows through the opened windows and enters the tiny room but despite its cool temperature, it wasn't enough to overpower the heat from the anger and tension radiating off from you. You avoided his pleading gaze, staring straight at the wall behind him as you seethe in anger. You feel your exhaustion dragging you down, your muscles hesitating on letting your guard down. The final straw was when he repeated his sorry excuse. It was an accident. 

Your fingers wrapped hastily around the nearest vase and threw it towards his direction. He was quick on his feet despite being tipsy, dodging to the side. The vase hits the wall behind him, smashing into smaller pieces and sliding down to the carpeted floor, the fresh flowers that he had given you a few days prior that occupied the vase, scattered along with the broken fragments. He turned to look at the broken vase and then back at you, despite the fear in his eyes, he was still begging. 

"Oh! I'm sorry!" You cry out, throwing your hands up in the air and letting out a dry laugh, "I didn't mean to throw that vase at you, it was an accident!" Your rampage began, anything you can get your hands on, a book, the tv remote, a magazine, a pillow, just anything, was thrown around the room and he dodged it the best that he could. 

He cries out your name, begging you to stop. "Please, I'm sorry. Please, just listen to me."

Your eyes caught the picture frame that rested on one of the shelves and a lump forms in the back of your throat. The picture was the very first picture of the both of you. The day that the two of you met. Without wasting another second, you grabbed it from its location and hurled it towards his direction. The frame misses him by an inch, smashing against the wall with a crack and his heart sinks further, he knows how much you loved that photo. He would often catch you in the early mornings with a cup of your favourite tea, staring at the photo with a smile on your face.

He ruined that. 

"I'm sorry, Oikawa." You drawl sarcastically, letting out another laugh, "I didn't mean to throw those things, especially our picture but hey! It was an accident, right?"

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly in defeat, shifting his gaze down to his hands. 

You shake your head at him, “I don’t ever want to see you again.” 

And before he could comprehend what was happening, you had already fled the apartment with your car keys. 

[big-tiddie-squad]

I did it again.... 😶🤫

The Tease in the Recording Studio

"Try it again, but more seductive. We're going for a sexy vibe for this song, you have to make them feel like YOU want THEM." The producer in charge of the recordings offers. "You've got this, the fans already want you. You just need to give a little extra back to them."

Bangchan runs his hands through his hair. He's been singing the same part over and over, bringing forth his most charismatic personality, but Ms. Park says it's not enough after every recording. "Alright," he sighs, "let's try it again." He puts the headphone back up to his ear but you can see he's tired and confused on what she wants from him now.

"No problem, have a quick drink and we'll roll it back and start at the beginning again." The woman watches Chan through the glass studiously, then turns to you to apologize, "I'm sorry we're taking so long Ms. Y/L/N, but the job isn't done until it's perfect. I know you've been waiting here awhile but I appreciate you being patient with us. It shouldn't take much longer."

You always liked this recording producer. She was brilliant at her job and she's also very sweet and always allowed you to sit in while recording when you got bored of waiting at home. "It's fine! I understand completely. Can I say something to him before you start again though?" You ask.

"Words of encouragement are always welcome. Go ahead!" She shows you what to press to speak to him. You wet your lips and speak clearly through the small mic. "Channie?" He straightens and smiles at your pet name before replying right away, "Its okay if you wanna wait at home sweetheart, I know it's taking me a bit to get this right but I'll be home at some point tonight, you don't have to wait for me."

"What-? I'm not going anywhere," you laugh, "I just wanted to let you know that you can do absolutely do this, I know you're tired but I also know that you've got this!! Just know I'm here to support you!" You offer up a cheesy grin and wink at him causing him to laugh as well.

"Of course I do. I'm sexy after all right? Singing seductively should come easy to me if I don't think too hard." His eyes brighten and he puts his headphones on before giving his producer a thumbs up to signal he's ready.

"Here we go again!" She says cheerfully, as you sit down on the couch to watch your boyfriend make magic happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A frustrated growl leaves Chan as Ms. Park tells him to take a break. It's been over an hour and he's made no progress. He chugs his water bottle and slams it down. You don't typically see him this angry and maybe it's caused by sitting here for so long but... it's kind of hot. He only gets aggressive when you guys are intimate, becoming a whole other person it seems. You get up to go eat something with him while you all take a break.

You both sit in the small break room together as you watch him eat the small sandwich you brought him from home hours ago.

"I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong?" He complains, furiously taking a bite. "How can I not have given off the right vibe by now?" He licks his lips and you're thighs close on their own, stirring up memories of what the two of you did last night. His tongue seemed to have a map of your pussy memorized. Oh how he took you on a mind altering trip. Bending you to his will, literally.

He notices you're staring into the distance and waves a hand in front of your face, "Y/N? You okay? Maybe you should go home and go to sleep now, it's already 11:18 at night." He reaches down and puts his hand on your knee, you'd worn a cute black skirt that comes about halfway up your thighs. Thanks to his touch alone, an immediate urge woke in you and caused you to almost jolt from the contact. Apparently, your poker face needs some practice because Chan picked up on it almost instantly. His eyes dilate a bit as he watches you take your lower lip into your mouth and your breath hitches.

"Oh princess..." he coos at you teasingly, "does my little love need some special attention?" He slides his hand up from your knee to your thigh and begins to stand up and lean in slowly, almost like a predator stalking his prey. "Well, do you?" Every nerve in your body is firing off and your brain is giving you a fight or flight command, but that's what he wants right? He wants you to feel like prey, like you need to run. You wonder if you don't back off... if you were a bit disobedient, maybe this time you could take charge...how would he react?

Wouldn't hurt to find out right?

"Why does it matter? It's not like we have any time for you to do anything about it." You smirk at him, folding your arms and leaning back. His face goes slack for about .5 seconds before his eyes turns a whole new shade of brown. So dark you could be lost in them forever. "Excuse me-" he begins, teeth gritted, just as the door opens to reveal a newly energized producer.

"LETS GO PARTY PEOPLE! We need to get this done and I feel like this next take is gonna be perfect!" She's comes and goes like a hurricane leading the way to the recording room, with you and Bangchan following behind.

Once you all get to there, Chan immediately goes into the small sound proof portion to begin. However, his eyes continue to flit to you, and you can tell he's a little annoyed with being interrupted in the break room. Especially after your last comment.

Ms. Park tells him he's definitely giving off the right kind of energy atm and to keep his head space where it's currently at for the song.

And then you have a wonderful idea. Seriously, you should be an evil temptress. He nods at her but doesn't take his eyes off you for long as he starts singing. Perfect. You look at the back of his Ms. Park's head making sure she's focused on what she's doing. Before swiping your tongue slowly and suggestively over your lips, making full eye contact with Chan. He stumbles over his words, and Ms. Park sighs and asks him to start over, jokingly saying that that was just a warm up.

You smirk it feels nice to have control especially when he isn't able to do anything about it. You're almost positive that this will come back to bite you in the ass but.... it's kind of fun. So you continue. You lean forward and dig through your purse, fishing out a sucker, but as you do you begin letting your breasts tumble out as much as possible. His voice has a slight subtle change to it. And the producer claps her hands excitedly. So far so good.

You sit up and unwrap the sucker placing it in your mouth as you open your legs widely before crossing them, knowingly giving Chan a peep show. His voice is radiating through your body now causing a deep aching in your cunt. Damn was this what Ms. Park was wanting from him. You didn't know how you felt about other girls receiving this special type of feeling from him. A small sting of jealousy courses through you and though you know how deeply you've both fallen for each other. It's just a song, you tell yourself.

You decide to keep taunting him, and you finally run your tongue of over the sucker. You twist it against your lips before sucking it into your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you slowly pull it back out of your mouth smiling at him. His eyes haven't left you this whole time, and the dangerous and almost feral look he gave you was making you clench at nothing. Your pussy was already slick causing your panties to grow wet with your need. You didn't realize how much you were testing him.

He was already harder than hell but thankfully Ms. Park couldn't tell with his sweats and baggy hoodie on. He didn't know where you got this cocky and teasing attitude from but he couldn't wait to take you home and fuck it out of you. You'd never purposfully been this much of a tease before and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. He takes a breath before going into his solo part in the song and in that exact moment, he knew you were going to be punished tonight.

You'd waited for his part to come up and just before it did you spread your legs to show off your soaking panties slowly slipping a hand down over yourself and rubbing gently. You were so caught up on teasing him you hadn't realized how sensitive you'd gotten. The moment you pressed onto your clit you're mouth opened a bit and you wiggle slightly at the stimulation.

And BOY does Chan notice, his hips jerk forward slightly. Chan watches as your legs close tightly around your wandering fingers, wanting so badly to to replace your fingers with his own. He's in the clear now. Finishing the song with a lusty, almost dangerous note as he sees you bring your fingers up to your lips and suck your own juices off of them with a minx-like grin. You pull your skirt back into place and pop the sucker back into your mouth.

"THAT WAS IT! THAT WAS AMAZING! It's exactly what we needed! We are DONE!" Ms. Park yells whilst jumping up and down. She turns to you and thanks you for your support. "I don't know WHAT you did on lunch to help him get the right mood but whatever it was we might have to have you in here more often!" She laughs. You all gather your stuff and part ways once you get out of the building.

Chan wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in tightly before leaning down, voice rumbling in your ear, "you have awakened a whole new side of me I hope you know that."

You look up at him with the biggest most innocent grin you can muster, the friction of your thighs rubbing together and the meaning behind his words and tone setting your stomach alight with a monstrous sexual hunger. The walk home was difficult for many reasons and at least one of them was because Chan had slipped his hand under your top, fingers brushing your bare skin and adding to the discord of tingles you already had.

"Who would've known you could be such a brat," he says as you both make it to your apartment. He opens the door and let's you walk in first slapping you on the ass and causing you to squeak out in surprise. He enters behind you and locks the door before quickly grabbing your hand and pinning you against the wall. Your lips meet and you can taste his need, the pure desire to ruin you tonight. His hand sneaks into your skirt and panties feeling how wet you were for him. You moan at the contact, your body almost crumbling in on yourself. "Chan" you manage say. "Babygirl- you have a three second head start." He tells you voice coated with a dominant and feral tone as he removes his hand from your warm sheath and licks his fingers clean. "1.......2...." and before he could get to three you bolt for the bedroom, the immense need to run taking over. You haven't even made it 5 feet away before you hear him say three. Before his foot steps are sounding behind you. And all you can think is.

It's going to be a long night.

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared  to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

-------------

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”

[kirieshhhka003]

*hands you a bag of frogs* Yandere prompt 46 for giorno please

Thank you for your request, my dear anonnie💚 God I’m so bad with giving names to my writings😬

Prompt 46: It’s okay to love me. Please love me

Pairing: Giorno Giovanna x afab! Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, implied kidnapping, isolation, obsession, Stockholm syndrome

Strange things

You are laying on your side, eyes shut tight. A plushy softness of the bed, fresh flowery scent of bedsheets and sunbeams, peaking through the curtains and dancing on your skin, mildly warming it up - it all lulls you to sleep, even though you woke up a few hours ago. And everything seems to be great, except one thing

You hear soft sound of footsteps getting closer and closer. A door of the bedroom opens silently, and second later you feel a mattress of double-sized bed, you’re laying on, sagging under the weight of other person. Here it is, that one thing that ruins your perfect day (and life)

- Hey, honey, I made an apple pie! It’s waiting for you, all steamy and fresh! - a silvery voice fills every bit of space inside once silent room. You wrinkle your nose at the sound of it, a deep resentment grows within you

- Go eat it all by yourself and die from diabetes already, - you hum angrily. You hear a quiet chuckle and it only makes you shut your eyes tighter, you feel this person moving closer to you on a mattress, laying their head right against yours

- Aw, babe, come on. Stop being so mean to me, it makes me sad. I really put a lot of love and affords into it, so come and try it, - the same male’s voice whines, you feel hot breath brushing against your face, what makes you shrug your shoulders in a sign of discontent

You barely open one eye to look at the person laying in front of you. Giorno Giovanna - a pretty teenage boy (he’s scarcely 17), with long blonde curly hair, tied on the back of his head in a tight ponytail. His soft cheeks are all covered in slight blush, plump pink lips are glowing on the sun. By the almond-shaped form of his green eyes you can tell that Giogio has Asian origin, but there’s also something Caucasian in his features

You close your eye back and let out an irritated sigh, furrowing your eyebrows and turning on your other side, showing your back to Giovanna

- I don’t wanna see you. Leave, - you utter harshly, not even trying to hide your animosity. Giorno leans on his propped up arm and looks straight on your nape, you feel his intense gaze on yourself almost physically, atmosphere got heated in a matter of seconds

- Why are you saying this? - by his cold tone you can hear that Giovanna is irate. Now, you need to be way more careful with your words that before, nobody knows what’s going on inside this psycho’s head and what ideas his sick brain can produce towards you

After a few minutes of tense silence you reply:

- You kidnapped me. You keep me locked here. You don’t let me reach out to my family. Is that enough or I need to add more reasons why I hate you? - your voice is slightly trembling. You know exactly what Giovanna has done to you, and so does he, but saying it all out loud - it hurts both you and, surprisingly, him

You hear Giovanna taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily. Blonde pulls you closer to himself by your waist, placing a gentle kiss on your neck and nuzzling his nose into your hair. You feel his calloused fingertips trailing across the bare skin of your shoulder. Teen places his warm palm a little higher than your elbow and timidly rubs it, massaging your stiffed muscles, what makes slight pleasure run up your arm with these simple manipulations. His touches send goosebumps on your whole body, a few minutes later you hear him saying:

- You know, it’d be much more easier for the both of us if you just gave up. It’s okay to love me. Please love me, - Giorno’s voice is quiet and appealing, as if he is about to cry. Oh, how much you hate this manipulative tone, but more you hate yourself for this nasty flattering feeling in your chest, that this voice causes. Somehow it always works with you, and, of course, Giovanna knows it

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat, and at the sound of it bland smile plasters across Giogio’s face. Of course, it works. He knows all the right string of you to pull, knows how to make you do what he wants. He’s always read you like an open book, and you both know it too

Of course it works, but how can it not? You’re trapped here, in this flat, you don’t even know what city it is. Maybe it’s still Naples, but you’re not sure. You have no money, no documents, you have nothing, but him

How can you hate him? Back then you sincerely loved this pretty psycho, gave him all your heart and trust, and this is what it all ended up like. And the most terrifying thing is that no matter what Giorno does, deep down you still fucking love him

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