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dyingswanpavlova · 1 day ago

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"Your girl" - Part 14 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Life with him is really good...Right?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, threatening, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, cockwarming, edging, overstimulation, sleepy sex (both consent!), not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Life was good.

Uncharacteristically so even.

There was still a tiny part of you that was tense around him and that was for various reasons. One of them being, that you never really knew when his evil persona would take over. So far you could tell, albeit roughly, but there were always moments, when he would simply snap and there was nothing you could do about it. Was that a problem? Probably, but not to you, anyways. Why? Because life was good.

The little trip to the balcony hadn’t been a one-time thing. In fact, it happened more and more regular. Not only to get naughty, because he was a freak, who liked the thought of possibly getting caught – but also because, as he said, you’ve been such a good girl for me all this time. And I told you, sweet girl, I don’t want to keep you locked away. I just needed to make sure you’re mine.

That you were. Quite obviously.

That one time when you told him you wanted to leave, it had been exactly that. One time. The reasons for that outburst were in the past so far. There were still moments when you feared punishment and rightfully so. But to your great relief, you were both learning.

You were learning not to expect a painful blow, whenever you went out of your way to speak your mind (which wasn’t quite as often as you wished, but you were getting there). Slow and steady.

And he? He was learning, too. He was learning to leave you be and control the wild beast that lived inside his mind and soul. The darkness that surrounded him became lighter every day or so it felt to you. Of course he wouldn’t let you downright insult him, without at least some punishment in sight. But he was working on himself and his behavior. He didn’t hurt you without a reason. He didn’t hurt severely. And on some lucky days, he didn’t hurt you at all.

Slow and steady.

What was probably the greatest part of it all, it felt like a relationship. A real one. Two people who shared a life together, doing all kinds of things, sharing an intimate relation, but most importantly, you talked.

You talked a lot.

And now it wasn’t only through games and the fear of punishment. It wasn’t even only you who was forced to talk. No, he talked as well. The important things were still a big issue, obviously. He didn’t have a name, an identity or a past, when it came to you. But you had the great, undying hope that one day he would trust you. Trust you enough to let you know who he was and where he came from, what made him who he was and what was truly important to him.

Sometimes you’d get those tiny, little flickers that shone through his façade, his tight mask. The moments when the look in his eyes became faraway and distant, when his voice became softer and the tension in his body gave way to something quiet. Maybe one day that would be the version of him that you would get. Entirely and without question. Without the filter to rule out his emotions for him.

Until then, though, you would make do with what you had. And what did you have?

His favorite movie? The good, the bad and the ugly. What a question. Actually, anything with Clint Eastwood in it. Haven’t you seen the man?

His favorite musician? Ennio Morricone. Did you watch that scene in Inglourious Basterds, right before the Bear Jew comes out of the cave? That scene – and that composition – it’s reason enough to watch the movie. Aside from all the Nazis getting burned, of course.

His favorite food? Tteokbokki. But they have to be spicy enough to make your tongue fall off.

You smirked to yourself as you stood by the stove, slowly stirring the rice cakes in a black pan. He was talking movies all the time and that was a language you understood well.

In a minute you needed to add the spices and that disturbingly hot, red sauce. It was something you had cooked before, back in England. You had been scrolling aimlessly through one of your countless apps, which you normally used so you wouldn’t have to think and there you found some recipe that had been viral for a while. A Korean recipe with rice cakes in a sauce, topped with sesame and green onions. It had been quite the ordeal to find rice cakes back where you lived, but when you finally did and you tasted the recipe you had so carefully and lovingly prepared, you found it was worth it. It had actually been the first step into the life you were now living.

South-Korea, you had thought. Why not?

You poured the sauce in and wanted to try it, but decided against it in the end. You’d spend the next hour trying to soothe the pain in your mouth with bread and milk. With a soft sigh, you turned off the stove and served the food on two plates. You set the table with the gentle precision of a lovely homemaker. Even the napkins were folded prettily, giving the whole scene the last touch it needed to come off as…thoughtful.

Of course you never mentioned to him that you knew the dish. He had mostly likely thought it was just another Korean word he threw around and you’d forget immediately. And you had made no attempts to make him believe differently. So, when you began to cook this, it was with the intention to surprise him. A short glance at the clock showed you that it was almost ten in the evening, so he would most likely be home soon.

Home. What an odd thought.

You sighed again and washed your hands. A lecture you had to learn only once before in your life – spicy food didn’t quite match well with eyes.

You glanced around the kitchen once more, half-expecting him to be late. After he luckily gave you the books back, you asked yourself if you should go and read something, until he arrived, but that question answered itself, the moment you heard the door creak open. A nervous smile grew on your face and you nibbled on your lower lip. For some reason, a part of you was still afraid. A tiny bit, at least. It was like you expected him to punish you for good things. For being affectionate or caring.

But the moment you saw his head perk through the door, you knew you wouldn’t get punished tonight. Well, at least not, until you gave him a reason to…or asked him to.

His face lit up in surprised delight, his brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Hello?” He murmured as he stepped closer and set the briefcase down on a chair. Your smile grew somewhat and you folded your hands behind your back.

“Hey.” You took a step closer and tilted your head to the side. “I made dinner.”

“I can see that.” He glanced at the lovely decorated kitchen table. You had put in quite some effort, looking through all the drawers until you found a tablecloth, lit some candles and then there was his favorite food. He looked from the table to you and smiled.

“And what exactly did I do to deserve this?” He raised a brow in suspicion. You returned the smile.

“I just felt like it.”

“So, you know Tteokbokki!”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll see about that. You should try it first.”

He hummed softly and stepped closer. You expected him to head for the sink and wash his hands, which he most definitely would, but before that, he stepped close to you, so close that you felt the warmth radiating off him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek and then your lips.

You closed eyes and leaned into the kiss, immediately aching for more. But a second later he pulled his head back and smiled again.

“I just know I’m going to love it. Thank you.”

You felt yourself blush and so you averted your gaze. He finished up getting ready and then pulled out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was, or well, he could be.

The both of you settled down and you kept a keen eye on him to check his reaction, the second he brought the fork to his lips. You half-expected him to recoil in disgust, but instead, his brows furrowed and he hummed in approval.

“This is perfect.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Stop bullshitting me.”

“No, I mean it. It’s perfectly spicy, just the way I like it. And it’s homemade. Do you know how much that me-“ He stopped himself and cleared his throat. The filter. “I really love it. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand under the table.

You smiled again and leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to simply watch him eat.

When he saw you were staring at him, he cocked a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Now it’s you bullshitting me, huh?”

That made you laugh. God, how beautiful this was. Just simple, plain banter. Back and forth, like normal couples shared. You loved it.

You loved him.

When you laughed, a cocky grin grew on his face. “Mhm. I still have it in me, don’t I?”

You smirked. “Oh, shut up. For an old man.”

His grin widened and he picked up the fork, bringing it to your lips. Wordlessly, you parted them and took the food in your mouth. It was painful, of course, but you tried to keep a strong façade. And failed.

He laughed and held out a glass with milk to you, of which you took a big, grateful sip.

“Why are you making it, if you can’t even eat it?”

“You like it.”

He hummed softly. “And you remembered.”

“It’s not that hard. I collect the few things I know about you like postage stamps.”

He snorted. “Oh, so now we collect stamps, do we?”

You grinned cheekily and gently nudged his shoulder. “Eat your abnormal spicy food and shush.”

He shot you another smirk and eyed you up and down for a moment. It left you feeling oddly comfortable.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled before he took another bite. Your brows shot up and you titled your head to the side. You were better now, when it came to this. Compliments and accepting them. After all, he had no reason to lie to you whatsoever, now, did he?

“Thank you. But why are you saying that?” Not as good as you thought, but better.

He brows furrowed. “And why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged and he shot you a long, suspicious look. “I’m not taking it back.”

That made you laugh again. He sounded like petulant child and you loved him even more when he was like this. Just…easy.

Easy to love.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He joined your laughter.

You smirked and took another sip of your milk. “If you can’t tell, it’s already too late.”

Days passed, weeks even, and life was still good. Very much so.

Every now and then you would ask yourself, when will things take a dark turn again? You couldn’t help yourself. These first few weeks were stuck in your mind like a nightmare you hardly remembered and yet felt in every inch of your body. Even when you didn’t...

Your body remembered.

He had that in him. That dark, that evil. It would undoubtedly come out again at some point. That’s why you always tried to remind yourself, not to dive too deep into what you called your perfect world. At some point, you’d surely be in pain again.

Though, you had to admit, you were hardly in pain nowadays. Your mysterious man was a gentle man, when he wanted to be and that happened more and more these days. Whenever he came home, he’d make a habit of kissing you and asking you about your day. His smile came out, more and more often. On very rare occasions, when you got really lucky, you even heard him laugh. And not the mock-kind of laugh he’d have so well-rehearsed in his repertoire of masks, he had for the world to see, but the real kind. A sound so unbridled and genuine, so warm and endearing, it made something inside of you ache. Why was it so rare?

Of course he still hurt you sometimes, but that was more of a consented kind of thing. In most cases.

Whenever he decided it was time for you to cockwarm him, for example. God, you hated, when he did. Because you loved it.

You loved the feeling of having him inside you on any occasion, really. Sometimes he’d be reading the newspaper and have you on his lap, his free hand on your hip to hold you perfectly still. You always asked yourself, how on earth did he manage to read like that, without even cocking an eye brow, while you were nearly fainting in agony, because all you wanted was for him to move?

On other nights, and you were ashamed to admit how much you enjoyed it, you’d even sleep like that. You’d lay either facing away or facing him, but often clenched around him. He’d nuzzle his face in your hair and after a while he’d usually drift off like that, his breathing slowly soothing down to a soft sound. Sometimes, when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, you felt him move and grind his hips against yours, giving you the friction you so desperately desired. Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes it took a few hours and sometimes it didn’t happen at all. But when it did and when it did take hours to get to that point, you’d normally be half-asleep and yet desperate. The second you felt him move inside you, it was as though a switch got flipped. You became needy and…

Wicked.

For you, it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you. How many times he made you cum. When you felt him like that, you needed him. Ardently.

But in most cases you managed to be good for him, just like he asked you to. Good and perfectly still. When you did, you got rewarded. Which, in most cases, consisted of him going down on you and making you feel things with his tongue that made your toes curl and your breath stutter. He made you cum so good that you nearly forgot your own name.

At times, you did forget it. But odd enough, you didn’t really miss it. Names weren’t important. Not with him.

And then there were those other times. The times, when you got too needy, too desperate and, despite your better will, you found yourself moving against him, desperate for any kind of friction. That was when you got punished still.

Sometimes with a firm slap to get you back on track. That wasn’t enough to make you forget about your need for him though. Normally, you’d just fall back into the same pattern, given enough time. And after a while, he got more creative with his punishments. When he realized that pain was something that you were rather immune to, compared to other things, you were fucked.

Quite literally.

When you moved and disobeyed his orders not to…

He fucked you. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not at all, actually.

That was until…

You came. You came every time with him, which was something you had highly doubted, before you started this thing between you. But to your surprise, you were more than relaxed with him. And so you came.

But he didn’t stop there. No, it was a punishment after all, right?

So, he kept fucking into you, like a feral animal. Even after you came and the pleasure quickly shifted into overstimulation. You got so sensitive, it was close to painful. But he kept going.

And then, oh God, you’d come again. Of course you did. He was good at what he was doing. You came again, shuddering and gasping.

And he still wouldn’t stop.

Even when your body arched into the air and you tried to get away from him, all desperate, he’d continue fucking you, until your mind was a mess and all you could do was stutter and whimper, cry even.

It was one of his favorite ways to punish you.

When he didn’t keep you on edge or withdrew your release for the time being, he made you cum until you begged him to stop, sobbing and whimpering.

Oh, the crying turned him on, you could tell. Because it normally ended with him filling you up to the brim. And then he’d go back to sleep, wouldn’t he? With his length still buried deep inside to keep warm.

Let’s just hope you learned your lesson now, darling. I’d hate to punish you again.

He had done exactly that the night before and so you found yourself lying on the sofa, feeling sore and exhausted. When he came home that night, you were still passed out on the couch, too sleepy to even open your eyes. He regarded your broken frame with a warm, yet subtle smile and set his briefcase down. He took a few slow steps closer and watched over you for a long moment, before he reached for the nearby blanket and pulled it up to your shoulders. You weren’t really fast asleep, just somewhere in-between, so you felt his knuckles gently caress your cheek. You mumbled something in response and you heard the way he smiled, before he vanished to the bathroom and you heard the way the water got turned on.

After a while you slowly blinked your eyes open and yawned. When you saw the blanket, a smile crept onto your face and you hugged the material tightly to your body. Slowly and carefully, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, before you decided to try and cook something for a change. You got better and better at it, considering how little you knew about the Korean cuisine. Yet you had to admit, it seemed healthier than anything you had ever eaten back home.

When you couldn’t think of anything, you decided to be safe and went for Bibimbap. It was a mixture of near everything and also the fastest thing you could think of. But before you even started, you went back to your room to grab a claw clip for your hair. You swiftly did it up and made your way through the hallway, when you saw that the door to his bedroom stood open. You saw his white shirt splayed out on the bed and you just knew it smelled like him. You bit your lip as you slowly tiptoed inside and picked the shirt up, only to bury your face in the material and inhale softly.

If this wasn’t home, what would ever be?

You hummed softly to yourself, before you swiftly slid off your caramel colored skirt and your black tank top, to put his button down shirt on instead. The material hugged your body like a gentle hug and you smiled to yourself as you rolled the sleeves up in the way he would. Of course the shirt looked fairly huge on you. You took a long glance at the big mirror and smirked. It looked like a dress on you, albeit a short one. You twirled around like a ballerina and took in the way your thighs were barely covered by the material. That gave you a wicked idea.

Of course your body was begging you to leave it be, especially after last night, but the devil inside your mind forced you to keep the shirt on and make your way back to the kitchen.

In the meantime, he had finished his shower and now he sat on the couch, with the newspaper in his hand. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants (the damned bastard) and a black shirt. His hair was still damp and hung loosely into his face. He looked delicious.

When he heard you approach, he looked up, ready to greet you, when he hesitated. His gaze roamed up and down your body in a way that made you bite back a smirk.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, without ever looking up at your face.

“Why, hello.” You purred cheerfully and approached him with slow, tiptoed steps. His gaze wandered up your legs and torso, until he finally met your gaze.

“You look…”

“I thought it suits me better than you.” You teased.

His lips curved up into a slow smile. “I can’t disagree.” He took your hand, ready to pull you onto his lap. But after last night, you felt in dire need to take some action and control.

Not, that you didn’t somehow enjoy it. But still.

You briefly squeezed his hand, before you pulled yours away. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then took a step back.

“I’ll go cook.”

His brows shot up. “I can-“

“No.”

You hid your smirk, until you had your back facing him. With quick, measured steps, you disappeared into the kitchen, all the while pretending not to hear his frustrated groan.

The next few minutes went by rather quickly. You did a great job cooking up some ingredients and even an egg, Sunny Side Up. You quickly set the table and eventually left some rice on the stove, to slowly simmer. With a soft, exaggerated sigh you made your way back to the living room.

“It’s almost done.” You murmured as you slowly approached him. When you looked at him, you deliberately missed his face and his expression became more and more dour.

“Good. I was thinking-“

“I nearly finished my book.” You interrupted him in a sweet voice, as you sat down on his lap, causing him to freeze for a moment. It only took him a second to relax, though he seemed to have forgotten that you had interrupted him and what he even intended to say in the first place.

“That’s…good.” He murmured.

“Just two more pages. I’ll finish it quickly, before dinner, okay?”

He cocked a brow and shrugged slowly. “Sure. Suit yourself.”

His shirt rode up your thighs and revealed more and more of your skin to his gaze. He didn’t even try to be secretive about it, he was straight-up ogling you. All the while you buried your nose in your book, without reading a single word. You had to save up all your energy as not to smile.

His fingertips brushed over the skin of your thigh and you did your best to keep your expression neutral. And he, he was just…

“Are you-“

“Oh God, I didn’t see that twist coming.” You closed the book and sighed. Then you shot him an innocent look and smiled. “That was a really good book.”

You leaned back against his chest and kept up your innocent façade, all the while the look in his eyes equaled that of a bear with his fish.

“You really-“

“I’d better go and get myself another one. I’m sure the rice needs a few more minutes.”

His hand ended up in the middle of the air, while you practically jumped off of his lap. He let out a soft grunt of frustration, while you slowly swayed your way back to the bookshelf. Of course your hips swayed along and obviously his gaze did the same.

You held a finger against your lips, pretending to think, while you slowly went about the rows and rows of books. And then, what a coincidence, a book in the last row caught your attention. You smiled and bent down, pretending to read.

At the same time, his patience snapped. When his shirt rode up further, exposing just a hint of your rear to him, he let out a low growl.

“That’s enough.” He hissed. You smirked, before you slowly turned and replaced the smirk with innocent surprise.

“What? What’s enough?”

“Oh, stop this.” He slammed the newspaper down on the coffee table and stood up in a swift movement. “Stop acting all innocent. You’ve been parading around here, half-naked and ready to…”

“To what?” You murmured and tilted your head to the side in feigned curiosity. He growled again and ran a hand over his chin. Only then did you see the obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. It cost you half your life not to look down there and trust your peripheral view.

“Don’t play dumb.” He murmured. “Get over here. Now.”

You licked your lips. “But the rice-“

“Now!”

That made you laugh and there went your innocent act out of the window.

“You minx! You’re doing this on purpose!”

You chuckled. “Well…”

The look on his face was near rabid. Only the foam was missing.

“I’ll forgive you this once, if you’ll be a good girl for me and get your ass over here.”

You smirked and took a step back, circling the sofa. “And if I don’t?

He hissed in response. “You don’t want to test me today.”

And for some inexplicable reason, right then and there, you weren’t scared. That tiny part of your brain that had continued to keep up the fear, albeit briefly and barely, was completely silent. And you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, no matter what you did.

“Make me then.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his chin up. “Oh, that’s a mistake.”

You grinned. “Oh, that’s a mistake.” You mocked his voice.

With a movement so quick that it almost made you wince, he jumped over the back of the couch and stood before you, eyeing you like a predator. You let out a soft shriek and turned on your heel, running and laughing, without looking over your shoulder.

It took him only a second to put his hand on your shoulder, but it took you only a second to shrug him off and circle the coffee table.

“That all you got, old man?”

You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch, but that would have been too easy. He tried hard to keep his expression serious.

“Grew a backbone, did you?”

You raised a brow and smirked. “Oh, boo-hoo. Did I hurt you, oppa?” You hinted a mocking curtsy.

“Oh, you just wait!” He rushed to catch you from one side, but you quickly ran the other way. When he tried the other way, you went the other way, yet again. He gave a frustrated growl.

“What now, hm?” You smirked. “Giving up already?”

He gave you a long, wild look. For a moment you almost thought he was indeed giving up, but then he rushed forward and kicked the table out of the way. It rolled over and crashed against the wall loudly. Your eyes widened in surprise and you took a step back, but before you knew it, your back was already pressed against the wall and you had to tilt your head back to stare up at him.

“You caught me.” You whispered.

He clenched his jaw and reached out a hand. You were sure. You were still sure, that you were safe.

And then…

His hand slowly tangled in your hair and gently grasped the back of your neck. He leaned down so that your lips nearly met.

“I caught you.” He whispered back, before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

And you let the rice burn.

A few days later, you couldn’t even tell which day it was, because every day was but a collection of memories you kept replaying in your head, he was off to work.

And to no one’s great surprise, you missed him.

Every waking moment without him was empty. The emptiness was so intense, it left you nearly suffocating. All the while, all you could do was wait. Wait and eat. Wait and sleep. Wait and read.

Sometimes, you wrote. You remembered that one time you told him about your greatest dream.

To become an author one day. You didn’t even care, if anyone knew your real name, you just wanted to touch people with your words. Like the Bronte-sisters.

Ellis Bell, huh? And who would you be?

Hana, maybe. The thought made you equally as sad as it filled you with hope.

But that was about all you did. And after hours and hours, the day neared its end. Eventually it was far past eleven, so you were sure he would be late tonight. Of course you were concerned. As you always were. You had no idea what his job was, but you could tell it was dangerous.

The man in his clean suit and a briefcase full of secrets.

When it got closer to midnight and he still wasn’t back, you decided to distract yourself, by getting yourself ready. You changed into a beautiful, white negligee with a neckline made of pretty, see-through lace. You loved it. The silk made you feel like you were the most beautiful girl on earth. And you were sure, once he saw you in it, he would totally destroy it. Chew it off or tear it down, whatever worked faster.

You did your hair down (it was slowly growing back and you barely thought back to the dreadful day that he cut it) and took a last glance at your appearance in the mirror. You smiled at yourself, something you rarely did, and eventually made your way back to his bedroom to surprise him. On his bed, wearing nothing but the negligee and a pair of…

Where were the handcuffs? You frowned as you glanced around and didn’t immediately find them. You bent down to look under the bed, but still no cuffs in sight. Your frown deepened and you gave another quick onceover, before you decided that they most likely were in the wardrobe.

You opened it and knelt down, finding the knife and several guns in the process. The small shudder brought you back to reality and you exhaled softly, before you sat back and looked at the countless weapons. Had he ever killed someone with them? Most likely.

But for a strange, inexplicable reason, you didn’t really care. Not really. Because it wasn’t real. Not then, not there, not in that moment. What was real, was him and his…

Desires.

You opened your mouth and closed it, before your fingers slowly closed around a small handgun. You swallowed thickly and carefully held it up, only to realize it was far heavier than you always assumed. The material felt cold and wrong in your hand.

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the day he pressed one of them against your temple or…his. You closed your eyes. The thought of him…

Him…

With a shuddery gasp, the gun slipped through your fingers and landed on the carpet.

There was no thought more painful than that one. You couldn’t lose him. Not ever.

You loved him. And you loved him far too much.

Enough, to be what he wanted.

Enough, to give in to his desires.

You took another deep breath and picked up the gun again, determined to take it back to bed with you. You wanted to surprise him, right?

All you had to do beforehand was to make sure that it wasn’t loaded.

A frown formed on your face, when you realized you didn’t even know how to do that. The thought of accidentally shooting yourself, while waiting for him to come home…It didn’t sound all too appealing, though it did sound like something that could happen to you.

You sighed and already gave up the thought of ever finding the cuffs, when you caught sight of something else instead. It was far in the back of the wardrobe and you were sure, for some reason, you weren’t supposed to see it.

Of course you weren’t supposed to touch his gun, either, but you felt he would forgive you, once he realized you were slowly submitting to his every desire.

Even if it meant him fucking you, while he held a gun to your head. In your mouth…Or, God help you, somewhere else.

You were twisted. You were sure you were. Because you felt it. You felt how the thought did things to you.

But for now you tried to push the thought aside and instead glanced back at the box.

Then again, what terrible thing could be inside there?

Someone’s teeth maybe?

Your soft smile disappeared the second you realized it was possible. You nearly recoiled in disgust. But then you realized, you had to know.

It couldn’t be teeth. It was too sick. Too deranged.

Too…him?

No. No, no, no.

As if in a trance, you picked up the light, wooden box and took off the lid.

No teeth inside. Only…

Fuck.

What was in there was so much worse than teeth.

Your forehead creased into a small frown, which grew further with every second.

And suddenly you felt nauseous.

No.

Oh, no.

You nearly dropped the box and backed away like you’d been struck, the moment you heard it.

“Goddamn it." He sighed impatiently and the door slowly closed behind him. "You weren’t supposed to see that.”

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Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Did I lately mention that I love you, guys?

Ps. The Tteokbokki and the teasing were anon requests! I loved them and I hope I did them justice!

543 notes · View notes

t-chlmt-blog · 2 days ago

Text

ADHD!reader x Spencer Reid

when reader gets overstimulated at the office spencer finds her in an odd spot and helps calm her down.

word cound: 0.7k

warnings: neurodivergent reader and spencer, mentions of breakdowns, i dont think there anything else but lmk!

also pls be kind this is my first fic!

The hum of the AC in the bullpen is boring into your skull. Along with the chatter of other agents, all the sensations are getting to be too much. The stack of paperwork on your desk hasn’t gotten any smaller in the past hour and your legs started aching from sitting too long. It’s all too much. Morgan and Prentiss are chatting no more than 10 feet away and you can’t concentrate , not with everything going on.

Standing up and pushing away from the desk, you quickly slip by the duo whose conversation you couldn’t follow mumbling a quick “excuse me” with your head down.

Ducking behind the door to the stairwell, you sit down on the first few steps trying to calm yourself down. Nobody really ever comes this way unless the elevators were out of service. The stairwell is quiet but each small movement creates an echo that provokes that suffocating feeling of overstimulation. Normally in a situation like this, you’d let Spencer know and he’d sit with you, toning down his rambling as he lists grounding techniques for you to try, however, today was a bad one gone worse and the thought of anyone talking is almost enough to send you into a full blow meltdown. You feel hot and stuffy and realize the water bottle, full of ice cold water from this morning was still at your desk. Great.

You’re focused on the cool tile beneath you, laying your palms down trying to cool down, when you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. You hadn’t payed much attention to the fact Spencer had been missing from the bullpen and didn’t even realize he had been a floor down this whole time. Sometimes when he needs a bit longer to think he takes the stairs to his destination.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked with that slight smile and gentle voice. He knows all too well the struggles of neurodiversity and finds that he two of you can relate to each other more so than the rest of the team.

Your head whips up and to the right, where Spencer has suddenly appeared, why didn’t you hear his footsteps before? “Just needed a second, it got kinda stuffy out there”, a simple explanation he understood to be more than you’re making it out to be. Years of masking and trying to fit in, you could handle a lot before you would totally break down, having learned where your threshold for this sort of thing was so as to not make a fool of yourself in front of other people.

“Are you ok, do you feel well?” Spencer asks, putting down his files next to you, attempting to look for any tell tale signs of illness or injury. When he finds nothing too concerning, just your flushed skin, starting to bead with sweat, he sits next to you. He’s been looking out for you a lot more recently, both in and out of the office and field.

“I just didn’t get enough sleep and the bullpen’s too loud and those lights were starting to bug me.” As soon as you told Spencer the reason for your hiding, he understood. He’s no stranger to feeling overstimulated like this and knows you aren’t either. Conversations on the jet and in the break room detailed the feelings you both shared being neurodivergent. Although Spencers brain worked almost completely opposite of yours, you both understood each other fairly well.

“Here,” he says gently taking your hand in his, feeling the heat, placing them in a new spot on he tile. Since he’d come up the stairs, you hadn’t moved an inch, it felt refreshing against your hot palms once again. “Would leaning against the wall help at all?” You hadn’t tried it but inched backwards and turned so the your back connected with the wall.

Your eyes close in relief. You hadn’t realized it but from ay one, Spencer has started to pick up on all the details and quirks that make you , you. Of course his eidetic memory helps, but somethings he just gets.

Starting to cool down, in the comfortable silence you open your eyes and look to Spencer and his brown eyes and smile. Joining such a tight knit team was intimidating but Spencer always made you feel wanted.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer x reader #bau team #bau!reader #spencer x you #criminal minds cast

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bloodbluepearl · 2 days ago

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i think that the phenomenon of people ignoring / leaving out swansea should be studied because there is a LOT of implicit fatphobia and ageism in that that people don't realize.

and even when people do include him in posts, he often gets boiled down to just being a father figure, which is yet another product of ageism- he's not really that fatherly in the game at all, but the only way that some people can really see an older man like him is as a father, so that's what he gets reduced to.

again, it's all implicit and subconscious more often than not, so it isn't like people are actively trying to be harmful in the way that they perceive him and exclude him, but it's important to recognize these schools of thought and call them out for what they are to nip them in the bud in order to seriously engage with the game on a critical level.

it can also manifest in actual explicitly fat-related jokes, which in and of themselves aren't necessarily indicative of anything, but when people are both dismissive of him as a character, dismissing his impact on the story and reducing him down to what they think an older man should be WHILE making these jokes, it's very clear that there are some very harmful biases at play.

i've been thinking of making this post for a while but what really pushed me to was a conversation i had in a server with someone who would not engage with the idea of swansea as a character outside of making jokes about him being fat, and when i pointed this out, they said theyd say it about anyone, that it wasn't because he was the only fat character, and then later that they couldn't be assed to understand what i meant when i explained how they and a good handful of people see him is really weird. this on top of a few artists i've seen who would draw every character MINUS swansea in a piece. these sorts of conversations need to be held! people will do and say these things without realizing the subconscious thought processes that motivate their actions, so it needs to be said that there ARE these biases and this DOES happen so that people can, at the very least, be aware of it.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #<< tags for reach because i think. people need to see this.#bluejay.txt

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lifewithdavefarts · 1 day ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 33 “Rear Cushion” [Episode List]

Dave has to hold back the loudness of his huge farts as he gets an important phone call from work while blasting Tim’s face.

POV: Tim

The cab dropped me a few blocks from my place: finally, a couple of more minutes and I could relax at home. This was a long day. Nothing ground-breaking or anything, as I simply had to meet a client downtown. It went well, no need to go into boring details, but I’m glad I know how to pilot drones and film stuff with them. Believe it or not, working as an editor for Greg’s porn films, of all things, gave me lots of experience. I’m not planning to become a film-maker, but I do like how this stuff works. Plus, and perhaps most importantly, it pays the bills, which is good.

Bills that I’m currently sharing with my bro and roommate Dave anyway. I wonder if he’s home: today he called in sick from work because he had to do some stuff with Dana -something related to them planning to move in together. From what he told me, it’s been a tough month, and often he ended up working overtime, so he really needed this one day to get some stuff done with his girlfriend.

It was evening, around 7:00 PM, the cold breeze scratching my face, with my eyes being spared thanks to my round glasses. I could spot our house: the lights were on. I do hope he is home, or else he’s gonna pay *those* bills by himself this time.

Indeed, I passed by Dave’s car parked on the driveway, still warm, meaning that my friend probably got home mere minutes before me. I quickly put a halt to my detective work and opened the door, stepping into our living room / kitchen, being greeted by the warmth of our apartment, other than a firm “Yo!” from my roommate.

Dave walked past me and towards the couch, holding a sandwich, greeting me by making noises with his mouth as he took a big bite of his snack.

“You didn’t even make me say ‘Honey, I’m home.”

I watched Dave lying down on the long couch, reaching for the laptop on the small table in front of it, as he put it on his chest, comically close to his face. Impressive how fast that sandwich got eaten up -he is a big eater after all, despite the tall, slim appearance.

“Because that’s my line.” he replied, his fingers tapping the buttons on the keyboard.

I hung my coat by the door and went into the kitchen to fetch a beer.

“I thought you called in sick.” I asked, as I opened the fridge, disappointed by the lack of alcohol.

“I did.” he said, the stern tone catching me off guard. “Such bullshit!”

He wasn’t mad at me obviously, probably some work-related issue, as it usually happens lately.

I solved my own very important issue with the fridge instead by settling for a soda, because my body may be a temple, but most temples are old and crumbling so I’m just very committed to the role.

As I walked towards the couch, Dave (eyes glued on the screen) automatically moved his legs just a bit to make room for me. Another sign that he came back a few minutes ago was that he was still wearing, well, casual clothes, precisely a yellow hoodie and a pair of bright blue jeans (and grey socks -he left his sneakers by the door). Since I’m a kinky asshole, I did notice that he was accidentally showing off his sort-of-sagging denim ass towards me, but I easily ignored that by focusing on the soda and the TV.

Even though he wasn’t angry at me, I didn’t want to annoy him by asking more questions about the job, especially considering the furious tapping I was hearing, so I simply, and silently, took a sip of my not-beer.

“It’s because of Fisher by the way.” Dave said, his face hidden behind the laptop.

“Again?!” I replied. “You did tell me he was making a mess like… 2 days ago.”

“And guess who’s trying to fix the mess he made at 7:30 PM.”

Another episode of my bro working overtime, ladies and gentleman.

Dave also rarely works from home, so I don’t usually get to see how he acts in those situations. The rare times it happened I noticed he switches to a serious man of few words. He still is chill and all, just rightfully focused on whatever task he’s working on.

Whatever happened made him really angry however, as I heard the keyboard almost beg for mercy under all that furious tapping. That’s Dave: when he gets really mad, he actually goes silent. One of those men, yes.

I just remained there, chilling and watching the TV, enjoying my soda, though a beer would have been better in case this wasn’t clear. Occasionally, my friend would occasionally mumble some insults towards the screen or, better yet, to this Fisher guy, a man he complained about to us in the last few days, something that he almost never does. Dave is very easy-going as you know, and very very patient (exhibit A: me), but push the right buttons and he will get mad at you.

“Sorry about all the tapping.” he suddenly said, after like 10 minutes of silence, still focused on the screen. “I can go upstairs if that’s bothering you.”

“It’s fine bro.” I replied. “I’ve already seen this movie anyway.”

“Yeah the news are wild these days.”

I found it funny how Dave tried to hold a casual conversation despite being so clearly distracted by whatever was happening at work (I don’t blame him). And speaking of which, I certainly didn’t want to distract him myself, so I didn’t reply.

“I mean it’s not like you’re not used to me making weird noises on this couch anyway.”

There he is, the teasing bastard.

I turned to him and I could see him narrowing his eyes and raising his eyebrows, the laptop screen hiding a cheesy smirk. So focused on his job, but will always take the chance to tease and make fun of me.

Which I will always be thankful for.

“…maybe I should go upstairs.” I said, in a deadpan tone.

Without halting all the typing and his focus on the screen, Dave’s casual, immediate answer made the couch shake: a huge fart, one of his usual, Dave-certified displays of flatulence, almost stock-sounding rips. A quick 4-seconds thunder, unusually (relatively) short for my friend’s standards, but loud and proud like it’s perfectly in-brand for him.

The blast was followed by Dave snoffing from behind the laptop, very aware that his kinky roomate both loves and hates all this teasing.

“Weren’t you going upstairs?” he asked, trying not to laugh, as if nothing happened.

I mouthed a “fuck you” which he obviously couldn’t see. I stared at his denim now instead, the sagging making the ass look even bigger and more imposing in that position and from this angle. My dirty mind liked the view and how casual the pose was, farting like I wasn’t even there. And speaking of casual, you know it, Dave is as usual ridiculously chill with my kink and I’ll never thank him enough for this whole thing going on between us.

“Here’s what I think of Fisher.”

Dave then said, before ripping another huge rip, doing the classic leg-lift move in the process. He didn’t even look at me, still hiding behind the laptop, just farting as if I wasn’t sitting dangerously close to the source, like I said. Another “short” rip, as long as the previous one, and just as loud, if not more.

My friend’s farts are usually as loud as they are long, but I was definitely enjoying this barrage of quick blasts. Then again, when it comes to Dave’s farts, the term “short” is like describing a nuclear explosion as “kind of noisy”.

Naturally, the scent of those quickies reached my nose and engulfed the entire room. My bro’s farts are always big but not as stinky as one may expect. Don’t get me wrong, your nostrils will burn, but they’re not as hard on the nose as they sound… most of the times.

One thing that was hard, however, was my cock, unsurprisingly reacting to my friend’s talent.

“Alright, done.” Dave said, stretching his right arm to clumsily put the laptop on the small table in front of the couch. “I hope Fisher gets hit by an asteroid tonight.”

I silently toasted to his understandable wish and took another sip of my soda. My bro was now lying on the couch, legs up, without anything hiding his smirk, the smirk that proved how him showing off his denim sagging ass in my direction was not a coincidence this time. I tried to ignore that, but it was getting very difficult, especially considering that, knowing his skills, the blasts were far from being over.

I kept myself distracted by doing literally anything else than staring, such as putting the empty soda can on the floor by the couch.

“So, you’re done working?” I managed to ask.

He cackled in response to that.

“Sort of. Got one last job to do.” he said, a cheesy grin drawn on his face.

“What do you m- oh… of course.”

I understood mid-sentence what he meant. The fact that he leaned towards me to reach for my head and pull it down and close to his denim ass being a big clue. I didn’t even try to resist, and I let his hand push my face in front of his butt, Dave’s legs spreading a bit more to once again make room for me -my entire head, in this case. The scent from his previous farts was strong and the ass was warm; the seams and textures of his jeans were always a pleasure to look at, the rough surface tickling the tip of my nose.

As usual, when Dave gets gassy, my face ends up planted straight into the source of his farts, even though I didn’t ask for it. I don’t know if he did that on purpose, but I was positioned in a way that while most of my view was obscured by his overwhelming ass, I could still see part of my friend’s face, staring down at me, with a smirk. I love when it happens: experiencing one of Dave’s farts so up close and personal while still managing to see that damn smirk (or his other facial expressions) only makes the whole experience even hotter for me.

And hotter it became, not just figuratively, as Dave’s ass soon greeted with another huge blast. Was it stronger than the previous two or did my face being glued to his denim-clad anus made it feel like it was? Either way, it was huge and loud, a standard “Dave rip”, and getting those in my face is something I’ll never get used to. It definitely was longer than the previous farts, about 7 seconds, which only made the smell worse in the process. My bro wasn’t even holding my head anymore, but I didn’t want to move, nor he was surprised that I didn’t.

After he was finished he adjusted his position, so he could see my face better and make fun of me being a kinky mess as usual, while I was completely dazed by his talent.

“Remember when you apologized for the tapping?” I joked.

I made my friend laugh, which I guess is the only way I can somehow return the incredible kinky favor.

“Good times.” he joked back.

My head was still facing his ass, but admittedly it was getting awkward. Dave probably noticed that I was moving away and promptly used his left leg to trap me.

“I’m not gonna apologize for this, bro.” he said, clearly brewing another big one. “…Ready?”

And ready I was, bracing myself for the impact, but the noise I heard was not what I was expecting.

“Fuck!” I heard Dave say, reacting to that same noise.

I saw his right arm reaching for his smartphone, next to the laptop he put there moments ago.

“Fisher?! Really?!” he commented, as he saw the name of the person calling.

I remained there, now things getting awkward for real.

Again I tried to move away, and again my bro made sure I couldn’t.

“Hold on, I gotta take this one.” he said, with the silliest smirk you can imagine. “In the meantime, you can take this one instead.”

A huge rip suddenly blasted my face, just as Dave answered with a surprisingly calm and professional “Hello?”. The fart lasted like 3 seconds but it was probably the baddest one so far, in terms of sound and stench.

“Nooo Fisher, not bothering me at all.”

I saw and heard Dave resisting the urge to tell this guy to fuck off, and he confirmed that he was lying but winking at me as he continued his ass-licking: after all, Fisher was actually one of his superiors. Not judging however, I’d do the same, and truth to be told, with my face being engulfed in Dave’s gas, you could say that I am doing the same right now, sort of.

As my friend seemed particularly into that phone call, I tried to move one more time, but Dave promptly used his left foot to step on my head and hold me there. Now my nostrils were being tortured not just by Dave’s gas, but also his smelly sock soiling my hair.

So, as long as I’m staying down there, with Dave’s foot firmly holding me still, I simply stared at that wall of denim in front of me; despite the anus being silent, the stench was still kind of unbearable. I know I just said that my bro’s rips do not stink as much as one may think, but when you fart this much and this often, of course one is gonna reach their breaking point, even a kinky guy like me.

“Mh… okay. I see. What did Johnson said?”

I laughed. Dave having this super serious work call while literally holding his farts in was actually hilarious. I managed to look at his face and he was like I wasn’t even there, a calm, assertive man just doing his job. He did look at me for a moment though, trying not to laugh, and winked at me again, fully aware of how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“Sure Fisher, by Tuesday we’ll be ready.”

As Dave said that, I noticed his facial expression changing. He was pushing one out… but since I wasn’t getting blown away, I guess he was pushing this one out in a way that he could somehow control how loud it was gonna be. After all, my bro is the fart master: he knows how to roar, but he also knows how to whisper, proving an incredible talent when it comes to literally controlling his farts’ loudness, length and pitch.

And those weren’t even on command!

As Dave’s foot kept me in place, the fart that came out was as big as the others, but in a different way. My friend was probably worried (more amused than worried, actually) that Fisher could actually hear his infamous loud farts through the phone, which is not very professional admittedly… and for some reason he also wanted to torture me with his gas. So, the fart master decided to somehow “dilute” his fart into a sort of quieter, rumbly, bubbly long rip.

I could tell this rip was enormous, in spite of all those nerfs. It sounded like a muffled rip with many interruptions, like fire-crackers going off, without getting too loud however. Dave kept the conversation going, speaking about documents, files, coding and all that, his facial expression revealing how carefully he was pushing this one out, while still focusing on the call, without missing a beat. The whole scene was hot and amusing for both of us (well, just the second one for my bro).

This masterful rip was going to be long, even longer than Dave’s usual farts, which are already impressive. I didn’t know if I could edge any longer, as my boner twitched every time this peculiar long fart got surprisingly louder than expected.

10 seconds passed, the stench burning my nostrils and eyes, the fart still “cracking” through Dave’s warm denim and reaching my defenceless nose. I know my bro is good at this, but takes some incredible skills to control your farts like this, natural farts I mean. And such skills only made me harder.

“Yes Fisher, I ToTaLlY AgReE…”

Dave raised his voice just a bit, anticipating his ass doing the same: a clumsy way to hide the sound of his giant fart from Fisher’s ears. As skilled as my friend is, trying to “dilute” such a huge rip this much and for this long was getting difficult even for a talented man like him. This “accident” only made him silently laugh however.

“Sure Fisher, whatever you say.”

Professionals have standards, you know the drill. And Dave being this professional from both ends was a sight to behold (and, well, sniff I guess). I forgot about my friend’s foot combing my hair and just lied there enjoying the noisy spectacle, the “fireworks” still going strong. Pre-cum erupted from my boner, I couldn’t take it anymore. This gassy bastard makes me cum without even touching me, it’s insane how hot he can get.

Worst (best?) of all, he’s completely aware of it.

After a whopping 56 seconds, the ass seemingly stopped emitting those fire-cracker noises. Despite the relative silence, my bro still made sure I didn’t move, which is something I didn’t even want to question at this point.

“Alright… no no it’s all good. See you tomorrow morning.”

A bit more paying lip service and finally… he hung up.

“Idiot.” he hissed, as he threw the phone on the small table.

I still remained there, my head under Dave’s foot and in the presence of his sagging ass, without questioning whether this was getting too weird or awkward.

“Are… are you finished?” I carefully asked.

“Yeah.” my friend said, with a smirk.

I guess blasting me does put him in a good mood.

We’re both weird, no doubts about it.

“And that means I’m done holding back. Get ready.” he then added, threatening me with a good time.

If all of that was Dave “holding back”, then yeah, my bro’s skills are just as insane as they sound.

Without even giving me time to come up with a witty comeback, Dave finally raised his foot… only to have his hand take its place, pulling my face up and firmly planting it in his sagging denim ass. It felt warm and kind of sweaty, the jeans soaked into that stench caused by the almost 1-minute-long “fire-cracker” fart.

How is it possible to be this gassy? A few seconds after my nose touched his ass, my friend started blasting my face again. Yet another loud fart, long and proud, probably what was left of the insane gas bubble from moments earlier, ‘cause that really sounded like his ass was tying up loose ends. As the fart kept going, Dave firmly, but gently, held my face into his ass, with the rip basically being shoved down my throat.

Finally, after 12 more seconds, this final thunder faded out, as Dave’s grip on my head loosened. My friend then (just as gently) pushed me away with his legs on my side of the couch; I was completely startled by all of that, one of the most insane fart sessions I ever had with my bro.

“Are you finished… now?” I asked again.

“ahah You’re lucky my shift is over.” he replied.

He then stood up and walked towards the kitchen, easily towering over me still sitting down on the couch. As if the gas-trail he was leaving behind wasn’t enough, he ripped another loud quickie as his ass passed near my face. I leaped back, not expecting, believe it or not, to fall for such an old trick.

“I thought you were done!”

In response, I heard my friend laugh from the kitchen.

“Yeah, told you I’ve been working overtime lately!”

I took a deep breath, the air around me still heavily polluted by the power of my roommate’s ass, and carefully massaged the damp tent I pitched between my legs. I was gonna take care of that in the bathroom upstairs in a minute; I only wanted a bit more time to process those particularly strong rips… and if I should start paying Dave since face-farting is, apparently, his real job.

End of Episode 33

#eproctophilia #fart kink #fart story #malefarts #davefarts

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lu-is-not-ok · 3 days ago

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hi there! i’ve been motivated by previous asks, so i would really like to hear your thoughts on hong lu’s relationship with yi sang, as it is currently and how it may progress with the story… they have very interesting parallels to me and i wish i could see their relationship explored somewhere other than my own head lol

also, (if you would allow me two questions) do you have any particular thoughts about hong lu’s particulars (bachelor and sheltered)? i find the sinners’ particulars to be really interesting too but i never see them discussed anymore. thanks for your time & have a good day <3

When it comes to Hong Lu and Yi Sang, their relationship is much more straightforward but also much more genuinely positive.

The two don't really interact with each other in any notable manner until Canto 4, which is also where their dynamic Truly gets established. Canto 4's Dungeon is where they both end up connecting, as Yi Sang recognises Hong Lu as someone who heavily resembles Young Ji from the League of Nine, while Hong Lu himself appears to relate to and understand some of Yi Sang's struggles.

This all comes to a head when Hong Lu is the one to recognise the emotional core of what was happening and gives Dante the advice they need to actually reach out to Yi Sang at his lowest.

From this Canto onward, Hong Lu appears to consistently check up on Yi Sang during moments that remind the latter of his past with the League. Hong Lu shows that he not only holds concern for Yi Sang's emotional well-being, but also wants to make sure he doesn't bottle up his thoughts the way he learned he did in his past.

Likewise in Canto 7 Yi Sang is shown to be returning the favor to Hong Lu so to speak, though he's shown to struggle a bit more with processing how Hong Lu responds in comparison.

Outside of these moments, Hong Lu and Yi Sang are shown to generally have a cordial and amicable rapport, both showing curiosity towards each other when they share their respective knowledge and likewise jumping off of each other's observations to add their own. While Hong Lu does tease Yi Sang once or twice, it doesn't read nearly as mean-spirited as some of the shit he pulled with people like Heathcliff and Rodya.

Their relationship is perhaps one of the few on the bus that I can genuinely say is an entirely positive one for both of them. They both clearly care for each other and enjoy speaking with one another, even if they might struggle to understand one another at points. No ifs or buts, they're just straight up honestly decent friends.

It really makes me wonder how Yi Sang is going to take it once Hong Lu's lies are revealed... Compared to a lot of the relationships Hong Lu has with the other Sinners, his bond with Yi Sang seems the most genuine. Will Yi Sang be able to recognise that and will he decide to still stand by Hong Lu side?

Now. As for your second question.

I don't have much to say on Hong Lu's particulars beyond mentioning that their translation is. Interesting to say the least.

According to someone who speaks Korean, the term that got translated to "Bachelor" would more accurately be translated to "Young Master", aka it doesn't really have anything to do with marital status in its original language.

Similarly, the original wording for the "Sheltered" particular is more so an allusion to Hong Lu having a different sense of reality to what is considered normal. It's an interesting specificity that the English translation added that from my understanding wasn't there in the original text.

I don't have much else to add beyond the fact that people are too quick to trust the Manager Instructions as being the ultimate truth on what the Sinners are like. Their description of Ishmael as someone whose "patience runs deep" is proven incorrect in the fucking Prologue where her impatience is directly called out. This shit isn't a trustworthy source of info.

#ask #anon #lu speaketh #limbus company #hong lu #hong lu lcb #yi sang lcb #lcb analysis

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canadaxed · 3 hours ago

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Lucy is an Ancient!.... theory.

you might like this if you: really like the idea of eldritch beings falling in love with some normal ass dude who is totally unaware.

I also posted this all on the Klei forums, which might be easier to read for some people. Click here for that version.

A while ago I posted: "someone remind me to make a post on my theory about Lucy being an Ancient" and I finally got around to it! Feel free to read. It's a long one, but the main timeline for the idea is in the last paragraphs if you want to skip ahead.

Here's the theory now:

Hey gang, I figured I'd post this theory I have. I dunno if anyone else has picked up on it, I didn't find anything myself. I'm gonna try my best to explain why I believe Lucy the Axe could be..... an Ancient!! Like the spirit of the Shadow Maul or Reaper.

First things first, lets start with Woodie, the scraps of lore we have for him, and what Lucy means to him.

We know that the survivors entering the Constant (at least in the DS era) have a pattern of wanting something, or being emotionally vulnerable- and this is typically what Maxwell preyed on to get them into the Constant.

In Walter's short, we get a glimpse of Woodie's cabin. He has references to his family being from Scotland in it, various stereotypical Canadian British Columbian Guy decor, two very conspicuous chairs in the main room.... and "Lucy's" outside.

That's right... Woodie never took the physical "Lucy" with him. I put Lucy in quotation marks because we don't know if Lucy was always his axe... or if she was the person that second chair in his home belonged to.

The guy went deep into an uninhabited forest to get away from people, why would he have two chairs in his home right next to each other? Pair this with with how he leaves his red "Lucy" axe outside, rather than having left her on the chair or something like one might if they were romantically invested in something.

Keep this in mind too when considering whether Lucy could’ve been a real person or was always an axe.

Now, putting the pieces we have so far together, one could follow this story pretty easily: Woodie lost his wife and was reminiscing on memories of her while listening to the radio, which was the prime moment for Maxwell to swoop in with the promise of reuniting them.

Don't Starve fans might be skeptical for a few reasons:��DS fans are split pretty evenly between wanting Woodie to be "just some funny guy" and also desperately wanting more information on this mysterious Lumberjack. When you put this theory into perspective, it all feels too easy; or it just feels wrong to completely blow open a huge point in Woodie's lore that is otherwise kept close to Klei's chest.

Secondly, somewhat related to the first point: Klei's got plans in motion for their lore. The idea of even the gameplay of the world is that you start out knowing nothing, and slowly, SLOWLY, you gain more information. Even then, though, the game becomes more complex and deep. Essentially the team's been doing the same thing with their lore. Whether they only had a loose idea at the beginning and are now really hitting the road running with the direction they want to go in terms of lore, or if they always had an idea for it: they've been giving us glimpses of it over the past... 12 years? We've never gotten the full picture even after all this time, all these shorts and expansions. And each new bit of lore that gets revealed, there's another complexity added to it. Again, people might be thinking "this is just too easy a conclusion to come to, I could've thought of that."

They might just really be banking on Woodie's general obscurity in relation to the main story as a way to give him a lot of interesting tidbits that people won't immediately dissect.

Thirdly: I'm just one person posting something on the internet. I could just be way too much of a fan of Woodie and reading too much into all this. And I could totally be wrong or be wrong about some things and right about others. Either way, I don't anticipate getting any answers from Klei for a long time if at all, which only adds to skepticism.

(If you ask me, Don't Starve and its short animations/puzzles/lore drops are begging to be nitpicked.)

So lets back-track a little and talk about why Klei might've decided to drop so much potential, very vital Woodie lore in this one short. (AKA: the Woodie Tangent part of this theory thread, cus I love him)

If you've seen the short animations on Youtube, you might go to the comment sections here and there to get a general community consensus on them or the character. The comments are overwhelmingly positive and a lot praise how the lore is being handled.

Then you get to Woodie's very own animated short....

If you've seen it, you know it's a silly animation where Woodie , in the Constant (unlike other shorts til then), is chopping trees and gets attacked by a tree guard. He uses his three wereforms to fight it, and overall its a pretty fun time. The comments are mostly positive, but a lot expressed disappointment in not getting any more lore about Woodie. He's a very mysterious character, even despite having one of the longer character bios in the game.

So, eventually Walter comes along. A young boy from Canada, part of a boy scouts troop, really into monsters. If the developers didn't have Woodie in mind when making Walter, they ended up becoming very intertwined character and story-wise anyway. Klei being the cheeky devils they are, decided that if people wanted Woodie lore so bad, they'd get it.... via Walter's short. We only get a few glimpses at background things (we might've even got a hint that Woodie lives on vancouver island) but to Klei, that's enough. Clearly we've gotta do something with what we got.

But even Walter's short didn't give us enough for full answers to anything.

Let's move on and get to the real stuff: Lucy, Maxwell, and the Ancients.

The Ancients in Don't Starve lore refers to a powerful society of bug people that existed in the Constant long, long ago. They went extinct because of their over-reliance on nightmare fuel, which brought them from famine and gave them great magic and technology that allowed them to live in a bustling utopia, for a while.

We see an ancient in the metaphysical "flesh" in Hamlet as the Ancient Herald. We also know that the spirits that embody such weapons as the Shadow Maul or Shadow Reaper were once ancients, and their souls were probably in the pure horror/dark tatters used to create those items.

Anyway, the reason why they matter in this instance is because the only other living, talking tools we know about in the game are the Shadow Maul and Shadow Reaper, who both happen to have special dialogue for Woodie. They’re possessive over him, and jealous of and particularly spiteful towards Lucy. They’re also made with dark magic, unsurprisingly, and that’ll come into play later in terms of my theory for Lucy’s existence. I’m noting now that the Shadow Reaper/Maul and Lucy all have a nonchalance about them and are eager to be used. Also, that they all feature red prominently in their designs.

As fun as I find all these personality similarities though, we won’t talk about them much. Here are these comparisons for the hell of it:

Shadow Reaper quote: "We make a good team, no matter how you ssssslice it." Lucy quote: “We make a good team!"

Shadow Maul quote: "Ch- cho- chop. CHOP!" "Ch- chop tree... CHOP TREE!" "CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!" Lucy quote: "Chop chop chop. Heh." "Chop, c-c-chop!"

Also on this point of Lucy being a magical item, remember how she will always disappear in the world if Woodie’s gone too long and be replaced by a normal axe. If Woodie tries to use any normal axe that isn’t her, she immediately disappears from where she was last dropped and poofs right into Woodie’s hands in place of that axe.

Alongside this, typically you can only carry/have one Lucy at a time, and she does have special dialogue if you can somehow hold another one.

So, we’ve established the similarity between the talking items. Keep in mind that its established now that inhabitants of the Constant can summon the souls of the Ancients to be used as objects with dark magic.

Moving on…

Its safe to say Maxwell couldn’t manipulate too much beyond the confines of the Constant and his portals and the radios, like we see with him needing Willow and Wilson’s help.

He also can’t seem to drag anyone into the Constant whose name doesnt start with W. Also, whenever Maxwell “fulfills a wish” in order to get a survivor into the Constant, it always comes with a twist. (If Woodie didnt want anything new or different from his current life, he wouldn’t have been lured in. If Woodie just wanted his axe to actually talk to him, he wouldn’t just be given that no strings attached. If Woodie wanted someone back and was promised they’d be in the Constant, why not turn them into his axe, which as a lumberjack he’s metaphorically married to?)

The possibility of Maxwell dragging Lucy’s spirit into the world alongside Woodie is feasible, considering Wendy and Abigail’s situation. But if that were the case, then why not let her stay as a spirit attached to Woodie, rather than having to construct an entirely new form of axe? Because remember, Woodie didn’t bring his real axe into the Constant with him.

You could argue: “because he’s bored. Lol.” and to that i say….. Yeah true lol. Work with me here!

Here’s another potential point towards Lucy’s spirit being brought in with Woodie: Wendy’s quotes for Woodie often refer to Lucy, and how Abigail favours her.

But keep in mind that this (Wendy/Abigail recognising a spirit in Lucy) only tells us that there IS a presence in Lucy. Also, considering Winona’s short, I think it’s safe to assume that Abigail might only be able to exist in the Constant because of her flower somehow being tethered to its magic. Lucy wouldn’t have had that.

Alongside that, Maxwell’s quote for examining Lucy: "Ah. How have you been, Lucy?"

He knows there IS something in the axe and appears familiar with her

So…

Let’s rule out a few other ideas for Lucy’s existence real quick (just in terms of this theory… because i still love these interpretations):

Lucy being purely in woodie’s mind: then other characters wouldn’t think much about her, Maxwell wouldn’t speak to her so familiarly or as a real person. Even if the magic going into the DST world made her able to speak, Maxwell would be more likely to show surprise at her sentience (its something new that happened after his reign)

Lucy only existing because Woodie willed her into existence on arrival into the Constant: See above, Maxwell wouldn’t be so familiar with her. Plus, putting together the pieces of woodie having left his real-world fire axe outside his house while he was spending his down time inside, we can assume that woodie in the real world didnt have the same deep connection to his axe. If he could will something into existence, why not have it be the real person he was missing that he wouldve shared that chair with?

Lets start wrapping this up.. Cus I’m no good at writing coherently in long-form.

Here’s what I think could be the potential timeline of events for this theory, putting all the pieces together:

Maxwell needs to lure a depressed, possibly mourning Woodie into the Constant and promises him he’ll reunite him with his partner, Lucy. Her spirit’s not tethered to the real world anymore (because unlike Abigail, she didn’t have that odd flower) and Maxwell can’t manipulate the world outside of the Constant to that degree- but he has a lot of power inside of the Constant. He calls upon the spirit of an Ancient, seemingly the only spirits that can be returned to a level of sapience, with dark magic of which he’s especially adept, and forges its spirit into that of a special axe.

Then, either he imbues the axe with Woodie’s memories or the axe/eldritch powers-that-be gain them in their own way (think Maria from Silent Hill,) and upon Woodie’s passage to The Constant, he receives her.

As far as Woodie’s concerned, he’s gotten everything he needs, and takes his existence in The Constant without much disdain. As for Lucy, her old Ancient spirit is happy to be alive again and feeding off living beings (trees). It takes getting used-to to be an entirely new “person”, but she gets the hang of it. She’s clingy and codependent because he’s her source of fuel, but quickly forms a bond with him and ends up caring about his wellbeing, to the point of helping his survival in the DST era. Woodie is blissfully unaware and thriving.

....

Alright, thanks for reading! I know it was a lot. Feel free to discuss. I love Woodie and Lucy. I'm sure I missed a few things, like maybe how Lucy knows about Woodie's wereform cycle with the moons and when his beaverness gets low (the moon thing could be a reference to how the Ancients worshipped "Alter"/Them, and the beaverness thing could just be her dark magic picking up on his curse) ... or how Lucy is very picky with other survivors and very sure of herself/forward/brash like the other sentient items, but those are more of a stretch.

#dont starve #dst #dont starve together #lucy the axe #woodie dont starve #dont starve lore #lucy dont starve #woodie dst #woodie #lucy #theory #writing #maxwell dst #maxwell dont starve

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tshxkitty · 7 hours ago

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turmeric latte - dealer!jimmy x reader

tw: drug usage, a little bit smut, and all that stuff

lowercase intended!

2,1k words <3

at the beginning i wanted it to be more angsty, but i love pathetic jimmy way too much so i changed it so its more fluffy lol

i hope it’s not to shitty

if there are any spelling mistakes or anything then i’m sorry english isn’t my first language!

Jimmy remembered when you bought something from him for the first time. just weed, nothing too harmful for you. you were cute, extremely nice to him. you were that type of girl that he could met in library, fell in love, forget about his harsh life and find a normal job. he remember how nervous you looked when you gave him the money “first time, huh?” he teased as he saw your trembling hands “don’t worry, i remember how scared i was when i was buying weed for the first time. damn, look at me now.” the way you chuckled at his words, the way you thanked him so politely, it made him smile even more.

you were just starting college back then, something psychology related, if he remembered correctly. you needed to blow off some steam with your friends, nothing new to you. college was hard, especially during the exam session. it made him think about his university days, which he only attended for like…six months? he quickly realized that law wasn’t for him, and found a job that gave him the same money he could get after the uni. the funniest part was that Curly finished it off and became a good lawyer…and always made sure that Jimmy wouldn’t get in any trouble.

he remember seeing you working your ass off in that small coffee shop near your college. he loved a good coffee. he knew that you didn’t even needed to work, daddy had lots of money to give you, but you always tried to prove everyone wrong.

The second time you came over to him you bought weed, again, so much more than the first time “party?” he asked as you gave him the money “yeah, i need to look cool for all the older students, right?” “…right.” you also brought him a nice cup of coffee. god, you were so sweet.

After that he didn’t seen you for about five… no, no, six months. he kinda missed your sweet voice and that pretty smile. so one day he just walked over to the café you worked in. Jimmy sat down on the bar stool, looked at you and tried to act surprised when he saw you working there. he couldn’t let you know that in some weird way, he actually missed you…and also you didn’t need to know that sometimes he took the longer drive home just to glance at you through the window of the café. you chatted for a bit, since the place was empty and you didn’t have much work to do. you told him that you stopped smoking, you were scared that you could get addicted way too fast, and that if your parents knew about that you would probably get in trouble. he understood that, at least for a few hours. you told him that you don’t really understand when others says that he is a shitty person, that he is a total dick. he wasn’t. well, not to you, at least. he kept on glancing at low neckline of your blouse, hoping that you wouldn’t notice that. you noticed that, obviously, he knew about that well enough, but he wasn’t planning on stopping. he could look at you for the whole day and he wouldn’t get bored for even a second. you told him that he looked a bit pale, so you made him the best drink he ever had - just some warm milk and honey. he realized that it smelled just like you. he was sure that you probably tasted like that as well. it made him melt, but he wouldn’t never let you know that. he cringed a bit at the thought but he wondered to what ingredients would you compare him. probably ginger, turmeric or some other spice like that.

“…you wanna come over for a dinner when you finish your shift?” “yeah, sure, why not” so you went to his place, ate a nice dinner that he prepared just for you and sat down with him on the couch smoking a joint. looking at it right now, he knew how badly he fucked up by offering you weed again.

somehow, you found yourself on his lap, bouncing on his dick. he held onto your waist lightly, it felt like he was scared to hurt you. why? he tried to tell himself that he was scared to lose a his favorite customer. yeah, sure, Jimmy, sure. he never was that soft towards anyone before. “jesus, you feel so fucking…good” he said as he kept on kissing your face “oh, stop it” the way you chuckled so softly at him, the way you bounced on him, god, it took him so much courage to not burst into you in the first seconds.

And then you disappeared again. he understood that, you had your school. you needed to focus on that, not on some weird drug dealer. yeah, bullshit. he was actually surprised to find out that you stopped working at the cafe, he thought that you loved that work, loved to find out new recipes. he liked to think about you telling him on the new drinks that you made. something with milk and honey was a must, maybe a bit of some spices. turmeric latte sounded really nice in his head, he wanted you to make it for him someday. and then you called him, wanting to meet him in that one parking lot that was always empty. classic spot. he showed up, of course. when you stepped inside and sat down at the passenger seat he couldn’t help but notice how tired and disheveled you looked. “you good?” “yeah, it’s just the time of the month, ya know?” he knew well enough that you lied. he knew that you found another dealer, that one guy that had literally everything, shit that could kill you way to easily. Jimmy would never touch that shit, no, no, he wouldn’t even keep it in his pocket for anyone else. and somehow that dude gave you everything for free. why? you probably paid him in a different way, yeah. but when they locked him up, you suddenly called Jimmy back. wow, how nice of you. why the hell were you like that? you were so perfect in his head. “…yeah, i get it” he gave you everything you wanted, he didn’t even remembered what that was. he didn’t want to remember. he didn’t take the money from you after thinking for a while about it “‘is okay, different payment this time, alright?” he knew that it was stupid. why the fuck did he actually do that? was he really that desperate for you? he never did that to anyone before. you were fucked up and he decided to simply use that. he was actually mad at himself for doing that. also, he covered for you, paying with his own money for your drugs. if his boss knew about that, he would probably fuck him over. but he needed you badly. he was so much better than that second guy, right? you probably never even slept with him, no, you wouldn’t do that.

he took out the small ziplock bag from his jacket, took some coke on his finger and rubbed on his gums. he leaned closer to you and did the same thing to you. with his finger still in your mouth he looked at the backseat and then back at you “come on”

he pressed your face deeper into the backseat, his hips rocking roughly against your ass. his second hand holding you by your waist, definitely leaving a mark from his tight grip. this time he didn’t really care about being gentle - it was probably from the coke, after all, it made him gain all the energy and strength that he needed in the moment. the sound of his hips slapping against yours, the moans and whimpers coming from your mouth and occasional groans leaving his lips filled the car - it all made him go even harder and deeper. “you know, i can’t help but wonder, are you always coming back because of me, or because of the drugs?” he let out a dry chuckle, his words flowing through his lips “doesn’t really matter, huh? you get high and then get dicked down. did that second guy did the same to you? yeah, he probably fucking did. god, and I was stupid enough to think you were a good girl. turns out you’re the same like all of those other sluts. you mean nothing.” he said all those things not even thinking about it. he climaxed, spilling himself deep into you, not even thinking about the consequences that he could occur from that. suddenly he found back all his consciousness and caressed your back “fuck, no- I didn’t mean to say that- i’m sorry.” but the look on your face was speaking louder than words. you looked sad, betrayed, even. he looked at you as you quickly pulled away from him dressed yourself back “you seriously think that low of me? i-i thought you were better than that, James.” you said, leaving him alone in his car. after few minutes he started putting his jeans back on, realizing how badly he fucked up with you. again. he wanted to blame you for the way he acted towards you, but the smell of your perfume in his car made him realize how stupid all of it was. that damn milk and honey. “fuck, i’m such an idiot.”

The last time you wanted to buy something from him was totally different. you came over to his place, looking like a mess. he knew already that you got expelled from your college, daddy cut off his money, so you were all alone, walking on a thin ice.

when you asked him to give you something, anything, he knew you were lost. and honestly, he was kinda mad at you for acting like that. “i’m not giving you shit, you’re fucked up already” he said as he sit down on the couch. you knelt down in front of him, trying to change his mind. he looked down at you, he didn’t want to protest, he really didn’t. he wanted to feel you again. and then he noticed your eyes. bloodshot, staring at him almost blankly, god, he couldn’t do that to you. “stop” he looked down at you as you tried to unbuckle his belt “stop, for god’s sake, you’re a mess” he grabbed your wrists and pulled you to the couch “i’m not giving you shit, that’s fucking pathetic, you know that? you have no self respect or what? you’re acting like a—” he sighed and run his hand over his face, trying to calm his emotions down. he looked down at you and that’s when he finally realized something. you were his addiction. the only one that he could take all the time. you changed him, for the better, at least he thought that way. well, you made him a bit more emotional than he ever was. “…i’m sorry, y-you should sleep, you look exhausted” he said and laid your head down on his lap, covering your body with a blanket. you stayed quiet, just listening to his words “…i’m sorry, i’m really fucking sorry.” he put his face in his hands. why the fuck he treated you like that? he knew well enough that you didn’t deserve that. you were a good girl, just like he always thought, you just got lost, and it was all his fault. he caressed your messy hair gently “i’ll fix it, i promise…Curly will help. yeah, yeah, he will.” he kept looking at you, he was scared that something might happen to you if he just looked in a different direction. you looked so peaceful while you slept. how could he let all of that happen to you? he was lost in thought for almost the whole time, even when he fell asleep with his hand in your hair.

When he woke up he was kinda terrified to notice that you weren’t there. he didn’t want to lose you again. he wanted you there with him, he wanted to help you fix your life. he walked across his apartment, and sighed with relief as he saw you in the kitchen. you looked better, more relaxed, sleep definitely helped. your hair was still wet, and you looked absolutely beautiful in his clothes. and your sweet smile was back.

“…i made you some turmeric latte, i thought you might like it.”

#jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy x reader #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader

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suzukiblu · 1 day ago

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I'm sorry for asking but I need to know before I decide to keep reading the sex puzzle room(?) Wip bc rn it's a bit too dark for me.

I don't need too many spoiler or anything, but does it get better? Like, is this going to get a happier ending? Or any kind of healthier, emotional resolution? Bc I can't deal with hurt-no-comfort right now, but your writing is so good I don't wanna miss out unless absolutely necessary.

Thanks in advance 💜

Naw, that's a totally fair/understandable question, esp when a thing's not, like, a complete fic on AO3 with a full list of applicable tags attached. Like, absolutely makes sense to ask, imo.

Though just gonna pop the answer behind a cut for anyone who doesn't actually wanna know anything vibes-related about either the ending or the emotional path we go through to get there.

tl;dr: I am intending a "situation is improved" ending; worst-case scenario is "situation improved but bittersweetly". Like, we won't say full-on HAPPY given the circumstances of the fic setup and all, but emotionally in a better place, basically.

The current word count's like 10k-ish, and my current don't-quote-me-on-this-but-probably estimate is it'll be between another 5 and 10k before I finish it, so if you're really on the fence I might suggest waiting to read 'til the whole fic's done and posted on AO3? Since then you could, like, see all the tags all together to make your final decision and also would be able to just read it straight through as opposed to it being a dragged-out thing that might be more stressful to read.

There's still Kon's current level of emotional breakdown to get through, obviously--which just so you know def is gonna escalate to more upsetting territory in terms of his thoughts/feelings/things he says before it ends--but after that particular crescendo the fic should have a bit of wind-down and then wrap up. I'm not intending to end on an awful miserable downer or anything like that; the worst the ending vibe might end up is maybe a "painful but for the best" bittersweet, but my actual INTENTIONS for the ending emotions that I want the reader to walk away feeling are more, like, "the situation is not insta-fixed and is emotionally a Lot(tm) for EVERYONE in different ways, but there is clearly visible light at the end of the tunnel".

#anonymous #rintalk

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izavella21 · 1 day ago

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This book. This book right here. I love it. I love it a lot. Here are some reasons why:

The narration style. I remember when I first read this book, there were so many moments where I'd read a line and think "so relatable". Tori, why are you so relatable?

Tori and Charlie's relationship. I think it's not that common to see a wholesome sibling relationship, so I'm glad that was included in this book. (Also, I don't know if it's just me, but I feel that we don't really see that a lot in Heartstopper)

Tori and Charlie both saw the signs of each other's decline in mental health, and regret never doing anything about it. And they both assure each other that despite the mental health struggles, and despite not doing anything about each other's mental health struggles, they still love each other and care about each other.

There's a scene where Lucas gives Tori a can of Sprite, and Tori mentally notes that it isn’t the drink she likes. Later in the book, Micheal gives Tori diet lemonade, which is the drink she likes. And the beats of these two scenes are very similar.

Also, after Lucas gives Tori the sprite, she asks him about the books he has, and one of them is The Great Gatsby. When Tori asks him what’s it about, he answers “It’s about someone who's in love with a dream." You don't say...

(Basically, I think those two scenes are meant to show that Lucas is in love with idea of Tori, while Michael loves Tori as she is. Lucas goes about his relationship with Tori in the "wrong" way, while Michael goes about it in the "right" way)

The way Tori’s depression was handled felt so…candid for lack of a better term. I feel that depression and suicidal thoughts/ideation is something that is tricky to get right. I think Solitaire is a good depiction of depression. A believable one at least. One where you're able to empathize with the character.

Michael Holden. Just, Michael Holden.

I don't know about others, but I've always read Tori and Micheal's relationship as queerplatonic. You never see that in fiction, so I appreciate it.

The story takes place in winter, and there are so many moments when Micheal shows up in a t-shirt, or otherwise light clothing, and Tori wonders at various points if he’s a human furnace.

Meanwhile, there are multiple lines where Tori is described as a “ghost” or as “cold”.

Nick Nelson beating up Ben Hope. Do I condone violence? No. Do I condone violence towards Ben Hope by Nick Nelson? Absolutely.

The scene where Tori's not having a good day, and Michael comes over to her house to spend time with her so that she isn't alone. In their phone conversation before that, Michael says that Tori reminds him of "an old person who lives alone, like, with cats and daytime television." Michael also seems like the type of person who would keep old people company.

The scene where Tori realizes Michael wanted to invite her to one of his races, a really important one at that, and the minute she realizes this, she instantly books it to the rink. She wasn't planning on doing anything that day, but the minute she learned that Michael had something important going on, she dropped everything to be there.

I think every scene focused on Tori and Micheal is amazing.

To this day, it amazes me that Alice Oseman wrote and published this book at the age of SEVENTEEN!

There was the right balance between dark and mature elements and more wholesome ones. I'd say that's the case for all of Alice Oseman's work, but especially Solitaire, which is considered the darkest. I feel that's a tricky balance to strike, and I felt that Solitaire, even the original iteration, strikes that balance well.

This book has short chapters, and I think that makes it easy to read.

I love the audiobook. I mean the old audiobook narrated by Jayne Entwistle. I've listened to the new one narrated Jenny Walser, and it's good, but I think I prefer the old one. It's so pleasant to the ears. I love her voice.

Thank you for reading!

#solitaire #solitaire alice oseman #osemanverse #tori spring #michael holden #lucas ryan #charlie spring #nick nelson #things i love #ramblings #original post

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boykingscourt · 1 day ago

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What are your thoughts on Wincest? Do you have any hcs?

oooh I'm excited for this! good opportunity for me to clarify some things if anyone is new around here or just curious

if you're here for the short version, I'm definitely a wincest respecter but not necessarily a wincest shipper

if you're here for the long and more nuanced version, please read on!

I have a lot friends both here and irl who are wincesties, but the most important thing for me is that they love and defend sam. I've read wincest fics and the presence of wincest is not a deal-breaker in fics, but I prefer reading gen sam and dean on the whole. it's fun to analyze something in the show with the wincest lens on, but I can just as easily take it off. ultimately wincest is not the only version of sam and dean that I find compelling, but I don't really care if people view some of my posts as wincest (wincesties, please do interact) because I only say what I think and feel regarding the brothers. idk does that technically make me a wincest shipper? maybe some people will think it does, but ultimately I feel like the nonshipper label fits better

now I'm gonna get on my soapbox about proshipping for a moment. back in the day, what we think of as "proshipping" was just called common courtesy. I'm not saying fandom was perfect when I was younger (and I was probably too young to be in fandom then if I'm being honest) but in my experience people were more respectful about ships they didn't like, understood the difference between fiction and reality, and for the most part didn't make assumptions about people irl for things they enjoyed in fiction

of course I'm not saying you have to ship incest or want to interact with people who do, but it's crucial to curate your own space. coming on here or twitter and harassing people for shipping wincest and/or crying in the main tags about how disgusting it is just makes me lose respect for you. block what you don't want to see and move on

I will also say that being so against others shipping incest and finding yourself in the supernatural fandom is kind of a problem you created. it's kind of, well, extremely silly. wincest is the oldest ship in this fandom, like literally as old as the pilot itself, and was instrumental in first getting the show off the ground (i.e. not cancelled). also given the very not normal relationship between sam and dean, the other gothic horror elements present in the show, and the way the writers and actors regard the ship, it really should be no surprise that it is so popular

okay so now that I've gotten all of that out of the way, I'm going to address the other part of this ask, which is wincest headcanons! I don't know if these are necessarily headcanons, but it is the way I prefer my wincest when I think about it or imagine how it fits in with canon:

I definitely don't imagine them as like boyfriends, just more of what they are in the show, brothers with a complicated, intense, and abusive relationship (it being complicated does not mean you cannot call abuse what it is). I think their relationship having a sexual component would not help anything and would probably just further highlight the power imbalance present

related to above, I think dean would use sex the way he uses love and affection in canon, expertly alternating between being generous with it and withdrawing it when he's angry as means to manipulate sam and have him constantly chasing after the affection. and trust. trust especially. sometimes dean isn't even aware he's doing it (or would at least tell himself that's not what he's doing to his darling little sammy), but it's extremely effective either way. seasons 4, 5, and 8 especially would be delicious in this regard

in s7 there was a point where sex was one of the only things that kept hallucifer at bay, so sam was always torn between shaking dean awake multiple times a night in their motel rooms or handling it on his own. ultimately because I think he didn't want to "burden" dean with his visions or have them both lacking sleep all the time, he would lie and pretend that one or two times a night made lucifer go away. it became harder to pretend as we approached 7x17, and after sam "let lucifer in" in 7x15, the sex trick stopped working too. also hallucifer eavesdropping or appearing over dean's shoulder as they're having sex is very appealing to me

dean is the dom. I really can't see that any other way

dean doesn't see what he does with sam as any reflection of his sexuality, aka "it's not gay and it's not incest it's just sammy." sam probably would see it as some kind of reflection of his sexuality but wouldn't see the point in voicing that

dean was experiencing attraction to sam for a while beforehand, but I don't think they began messing around until sam was a teenager. maybe it wasn't like full blown sex then, but it was definitely something. I think a bit of precedent just adds something fun to s1, especially with dean coming to get sam in the pilot and how they interact, all that time apart, and sam's grief and guilt/dean's guilt surrounding jessica

I hope you enjoyed and found something compelling in here! I am certainly no wincest connoisseur, but these are my opinions

#wincest #salmon dean #hcs #ask #anon ask

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ropebunnykant · 3 days ago

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There's one line from ep 10 that I don't think we, collectively, spent enough time on, and that's Kant saying he used to get scared working for the cops cos he was on his own and nobody had his back, because isn't that utterly devastating if you really think about it?? We still don't know how old he was when he started being a 'narc', but he looks quite a bit younger in the flashback, and we know he was being put on cases involving significantly more dangerous criminals than some chancer car thief, so now I can't stop thinking about a college-aged Kant, with the weight of the world already on his shoulders, thrown in at the deep end, all alone, having to fend for himself amongst hardened felons who'd kill him in a heartbeat if he got rumbled, with no training or back-up or anything but his wits to protect him and nobody looking out for him...it breaks my heart! Also, him admitting to Bison he was scared is a big step for him and another show of trust - it's such a brief but sweet and vulnerable moment. I so badly want a prequel that explores both the brothers' upbringing and training and, mirroring that, Kant's first encounter with the Captain and the subsequent development of their fucked up relationship (and then throw in Kant and Style meeting and becoming friends for some light relief amidst all the trauma and grooming!). I know that's what fic's for, but it's just not quite the same!

I'm one of those ppl who are 100% convinced a) the preview is being upfront and b) they're going to jail, but on a reduced sentence after Kant makes some sort of deal which includes giving them a last day together. Which means I think the actual assassin plot will be wrapped up in ep 11 and then ep 12 will be a time skip and them getting out of jail and basically just a bunch of relationship/couple stuff (weddings!), and I'm not sure how I feel about that, because while it is a romcom and has always been more relationship than plot/hitman-driven, it would seem rather a rushed and anticlimactic way to end it, and would make the stakes going into the finale incredibly low. But equally I can understand them wanting to spend a fair chunk of time on happy lovey dovey shit, so I'm torn. I actually think this is the rare show that could have benefited from being a couple of eps longer - that way more time could've been spent fleshing out some of the side characters/plots, e.g. more time spent on Keen, on Babe, on the general hitman shenanigans but especially them finding out about Lilly and the fallout from that, on dealing with the Captain in a satisfactory manner (aka him getting his ass whooped!), maybe even on the Fadel/Kant dynamic and them realising they're basically the same person! As it is, I don't think there's been much in the way of filler so it's not that there's really anything they could have sacrificed... I just think that if something as light on plot as We Are could get 16 eps (absolutely not a dig! just a statement of fact! and I guess their eps are shorter), then surely a show with as much going on as THK could have been afforded the same! But oh well, it is what it is, and at least each ep is nice and long! Basically I'm just being greedy cos it's starting to sink in that it's almost over and I really really really don't want it to end! I want to spend another three months with these characters in this world! Nay, not three months - three years!

anon i am literally kissing you on the mouth for bringing this up because i've watched the episode twice and both times i clocked that line and thought "oh i've GOT to make a post about that" and then proceeded to totally forget by the end of the ep because there's literally so many fucking things going on in ep10 that are juicy and delicious and make my brain itch, ESPECIALLY related to kant, but GOD does that line deserve to be talked about

like god, everything you said. i definitely figure kant had to have been really young when he got caught. the age i've used in both my fics that mention it is 24 and i do think it's exceptionally poetic if that IS the age he was caught, given that's how old bison is now (tho that wasn't even my initial intention with that but now i'm hooked on that thought sdkjdf). however, i do remember in the early eps i also theorized that the reason we all saw that flashback and though "yok!" was purposeful because yok in not me was college aged. not to mention we can't see any of his tattoos or where they would be, and while that could be because he was purposefully covering them to avoid identification, it's also entirely possible that we're again meant to register that this is a much younger version of kant. and given that we now know that kant was quite literally a child when their parents died, i again think that adds as evidence to him having been very young when he got caught.

and it's just. god it makes sense he was scared. he was just a kid, he was trying to take care of his brother, and he had no other options. he stole cars, he sold them to take care of babe, and then to keep himself out of jail he had to continue dealing with dangerous people. people that could hurt him, people that could take him away from babe anyways. it's no wonder he was scared! and god it's the subtle admittance that the captain never gave him any fucking help, either. he sent kant out on these dangerous missions with no resources, no help. he got a fucking college-aged civilian to do his dirty work and didn't even bother to make sure he felt safe. like i think about all those times the captain assured kant halfheartedly that he would never let bison or fadel kill him, and yeah we knew he was lying then, but now we know kant never believed that, even before he was dealing with assassins. and god it's just so heartbreaking. thinking about young, terrified kant, doing these missions because he has no other fucking choice and not even being able to have the surety that someone was looking out for him.

kant has been looking out for babe since he was a kid, but he hasn't had anyone looking out for him since he lost his parents. and i'm so glad he got to hear bison say that he has his back now because god he deserves that. someone that's gonna have his back, someone that cares about his agency and safety more than anything else. and bison is doing that tenfold.

as for the other stuff, i've already said a few places that i think the preview is misleading. i'm more than fine with being wrong, since i do think the "being happy today" thing could apply to either before an attempt at killing lilly or before whatever shady deal they make with the captain follows through. but i am still thinking it'll come first in the episode. however, i do not think for a second that they're gonna be able to kill lilly or that they're getting jail time. especially cause it doesn't make sense to me that kant would look so panicked and frantic in the promo if they had actually managed to succeed in their mission. i absolutely think something is gonna go wrong and lilly is gonna walk free that day, which is what kant is gonna leverage for the shady deal because christ always wanted lilly above fadel and bison. he could have gotten them in prison at any point, but he wanted kant to find out their boss and i feel like that was emphasized on purpose. so i think if they're gonna help him take down lilly, i can absolutely see him agreeing to let them go. and if kant's the one making the deal, i can't imagine him walking away from the deal with anything less than the brothers getting off scottfree. like tbh? i think kant would offer to go to prison himself first before allowing fadel and bison to serve jail time. he promised he was gonna get them that life they want and we know kant's main love language is sacrifice! like do i actually think kant is gonna serve any jail time? no, but i can absolutely see him offering it, and again, i don't think he'll settle for anything less than them being let go

i'm not 100% on if the assassin plot will be wrapped up in ep11 or not - my guess is that it'll be more a mid ep12 wrap up just cause there's clearly so much going on next ep, but i can also see it wrapping up next week and then ep12 being more of an epilogue. and i do absolutely agree i think this show would have benefited from a couple more episodes!! like i think there were a lot of things that could have been fleshed out better if they were given the chance. it's not a complaint for the most part, since there are very few things i feel like NEEDED more, but i do think certain things could have been better for it if they did have extra time. i would spend forever watching these characters tbh if they let us skjdfhskjdf

#the heart killers #kant pattanawat #my analysis #mine #asks #nonnies

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