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bvidzsoo · 18 hours ago

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Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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isa-ghost · 2 days ago

Text

✨️ The Philverse Lore Masterpost ✨️

So I planned on making this a while ago and forgot but now I'm doing it.

And the formatting of this post MAY change in the future (like me providing other reference links and such for each Phil), but for now I'm gonna keep it simple.

This post is an explanation of how the Philza Cinematic Universe(tm) works, along with some widely accepted fanon things. It will update as cc!Phil changes things or canonizes new ones.

"Main" rp!Phil

"Main" Phil is Hardcore (hc) Phil, SMP Earth (smpe) Phil, DSMP (c) Phil, and QSMP (q) Phil. This is also the Phil that The Beginning by MaepleTea features.

It's important to note here that rp!Phil is canonically immortal (this is probably true for ALL rp!Phils, not just "main" Phil, cc!Phil has said things along these lines on multiple occasions in the past).

cc!Phil has described rp!Phil has hundreds of years old, though we have no idea how many centuries he's been alive. What we've seen is more or less just the last decade of his life, unless cc!Phil chooses to construct a timeline that says otherwise.

The timeline goes something like this:

HCS2 -> SMPE -> HCS4 -> DSMP -> QSMP -> ???

Obviously it's not linear like that, HCS4 is simultaneously going on during SMPE, DSMP & QSMP. In roleplay, the canon explanation is that hc!Phil can travel to other universes through what is basically dreamwalking. This gets explicitly confirmed in QSMP lore.

In other words, the Hardcore World is rp!Phil's universe of origin. A common headcanon related to this is that all seasons of Hardcore are one universe, which resets itself each time rp!Phil dies. After each reset, rp!Phil retains his memories of the previous iteration and starts over again, but with new knowledge to avoid dying again.

A better way to visualize this timeline would be to refer to IRL dates, like this (click for better quality):

Note: I didn't include HCS3 because it lasted like two weeks. Consider it a blip in rp!Phil's long immortal lifespan, if anything. I also didn't include HCS1 because Phil basically never refers to it other than the way that it ended. Considering there wasn't really any lore about hc!Phil being a historian/explorer prior to HCS4 anyway, this is basically fine to assume.

All of the above being the same guy is canonically confirmed, either explicitly stated BY cc!Phil himself, or with undeniable implications within roleplay.

SMP Earth is the only one of these that gets a little iffy to call confirmed because it's never been explicitly stated and technically SMPE wasn't a roleplay server, BUT: Considering the references and parallels c!Emduo make when they move to the tundra to get away from the rest of the DSMP, it becomes pretty obvious it can be considered canon. There are also multiple occasions where c!Emduo refer to what they did during the Antarctic Empire times. Furthermore, and I'll reiterate this in a moment: q!Phil tells stories to Chayanne & Lullah of things he and rp!Techno did during SMPE.

HCS2 (more specifically Phil's death) obviously gets referred to constantly in and out of roleplay, making it canon whether cc!Phil wants/considers it to be or not. This is one of few deaths we know rp!Phil has experienced, if not the only one. I imply there may be multiple deaths here because I don't remember if cc!Phil confirmed that rp!Phil died at the end of The Beginning before being saved by Goddess of Death or not. If so, that means rp!Phil has died at least twice: then, and in HCS2.

QSMP is actually the key universe to all of these other Phils being connected, since that is where cc!Phil chose to do lore to confirm all of these are the same guy. Prior to QSMP, we only knew SMPE and DSMP were connected thanks to c!Emduo.

QSMP confirmed that q!Phil is hc!Phil formally via the dreamwalking lore. Additionally, prior to this lore being dropped, again: there were multiple instances in which q!Phil told Chayanne & Lullah stories from his time on SMPE. Obviously, if SMPE is canon to both DSMP and QSMP, then those two are also connected by default. These stories were not the only reference to DSMP made during QSMP either. Multiple previous DSMP members also canonized DSMP and QSMP being connected.

And during all of this, rp!Phil is dreamwalking from the Hardcore World to these other worlds.

Origins SMP Phil (o!Phil)

This version of Phil is his own separate guy with a fully unique story from "main" Phil.

While "main" Phil is an immortal historian and explorer from Hardcore that can travel to other worlds via his dreams, o!Phil is an even more avian-coded guy trying his hardest to be a villain but failing at it miserably /aff.

As confirmed by cc!Phil: o!Phil comes from a dirt poor family who didn't want him to suffer the horrific reality of living in poverty, so his parents spoiled him rotten to the point of making themselves suffer. They later mysteriously disappeared (and are likely now dead). o!Phil's story in-rp (eventually) begins with him searching for them.

o!Phil has no idea he's not actually the entitled royalty he thinks he is. He eventually bonds with o!Sneeg, who chooses to be a "villain" with him, and they have a whole riveting, silly, weird ass codependent besties thing going on for the rest of Origin's multiple reboots. Their friendship in OSMP is what inspired 1/3 of the current theories for tr!Phil, who I'll get to momentarily.

o!Phil also canonically appeared in Rats SMP as a guest, as did o!Sneeg. They were searching for each other in the wake of OSMP "ending" (read: dying, again), and this intensified the fandom's interpretation that they're inseparable/codependent. This cameo also confirmed that both o!Phil and o!Sneeg can travel universes like "main" Phil.

Another important note: Some Crows consider cc!Phil's cameo in Aimsey SMP (ASMP) to be o!Phil because they share very similar attitudes and penchants for material goods, especially "shiny things."

Squidcraft Phil (sc!Phil)

The easiest rp!Phil to explain. cc!Phil himself said that sc!Phil is an alternate timeline version of "main" Phil, specifically q!Phil.

This is probably only due to the fact that Missa and several other QSMP members were in 2023's Squidcraft event, and cc!Phil couldn't resist being an angsty little shit with Missa throughout the event until his elimination.

The Realm SMP Phil (tr!Phil)

As of early 2025 when I'm making this post, we have no idea how tr!Phil fits into the Philverse. cc!Phil explicitly states he has no plans or intentions whatsoever to do lore on TRSMP, even if he does roleplay with other players like Sneeg or Fit. Assuming he doesn't change his mind on that, the following is ENTIRELY what the fandom headcanons/theorizes is true.

There are 3 main interpretations for tr!Phil's origin and I explain those in depth in this post here!

If or when we get more to go off of, I will update this section of the post. :)

Bonus Note(s)

MCC

The MCYT fandom widely headcanons MCC as a weird multiverse Hunger Games type thing where Noxcrew and Scott Smajor, whatever kind of higher power they may be, drag MCYTs across several universes into their little liminal space/pocket universe type place and have them to compete in the championship.

There have been references to MCC in SMPs during moments of varying degrees of roleplay were occurring. In rp!Phil's case, it's safe to consider "main" Phil is the one who gets put into MCC.

None of this, to my memory, is considered canon by cc!Phil, just silly popular fanon.

(If/when we get more versions of rp!Phil, I'll add them wherever they belong in this post!)

#philza #philza hardcore #qsmp #dsmp #trsmp #the realm smp #origins smp #osmp #hc!philza #c!philza #q!philza #tr!philza #o!philza #Isa's Crow Shitposts #Philverse

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felassan · 2 days ago

Text

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 5. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I agree, the Necropolis IS gorgeous, I was blessed with wonderful level artists, lighting artists, and a fantastic LD who poured their hearts into making it it." [source]

Sylvia: ""But what does Manfred think about Spite?" Good question. Manfred is curious, as always, and can probably sense Spite's on his own plane of existence (in other words, another spirit.) But Manfred also doesn't have a greatly evolved sense of danger, he might not understand Spite's "moodier" moments. I also think Manfred isn't as sophisticated a spirit as Spite at the start of the game. (Though don't let Emmrich catch you saying that!)" [source, two]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "He was a team effort, and I have to especially thank the writers and editors for their early feedback that helped shape him. Emmrich wouldn't have worked as well otherwise." [source]

Sylvia: "it's a huge honour to work on a character who's someone's favorite anything, let alone romance. (Huge props to Allegra, her actor, who just got Josie right away.)" [source]

Sylvia: ""With Cassandra being our only POV into Nevarra" Poor Cassandra. (Emmrich has such respect for her uncle's books!) "There's a lot of deep respect and empathy for all the ways people relate with death and I appreciate it"" Thanks, that was something I'd so hoped would come through." [source]

Sylvia: "It really was a team that brought Emmrich, the Necropolis, and the rest of its guardians to life, I know everyone would be thrilled to know you enjoyed it so much." [source]

User: "Emmrich's fear of mortality really hit hard. Some of those lines are etched into my heart now. Thanks to everyone who helped put that deeply relatable and human experience into the game" // Sylvia: "It was kind of the core of Emmrich, writing the part where he opens up about his fears, so thank you for sharing that, it means a lot." [source]

Sylvia: "I loved writing the MW branches and letting people be a nerdier flavour of Rook with Emmrich." [source]

User: "Nevarra, Mourn Watch and in particular Emmrich's personal missions were amazing! The whimsical and the grotesque in perfect balance. When I replay next year I'll be looking forward to those missions the most!" // Sylvia: "Especial praise goes to the level designers for tackling a bunch of complex stuff in those missions as we planned them out." [source]

Sylvia: "I think we can all agree Emmrich might be a touch eccentric, but I really wanted his interests and compassionate outlook to be heartfelt, so this is lovely to hear." [source]

User: "I was so nervous about the whole Necropolis gang as I have PTSD and a major fear of death. So when Emmrich confided in Rook about his own fear, I was struck with such an unexpected comfort. I've never heard someone describe my own fears and how they make me feel so perfectly." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Bibi. It's a very familiar fear for me as well, and I find sometimes talking about it can ease things. So I'm very glad to hear Emmrich's thoughts on it were helpful for you." [source]

Sylvia: "I like a good sinister necromancer, but really wanted to try something different with the Mourn Watch, something more akin to a sacred duty." [source]

Sylvia on the Necropolis: "The concept, lighting, and level artists, and the level designer, did so much cool stuff there IMO. Seeing it with the final art and lighting in for the first time was a thrill for me too." [source]

User: "special thanks for the Terry Pratchett references in the form and speech of Vorgoth. I don't know exactly whose idea it was, but it was great!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you so much! Re: Terry Pratchett: oh man, I read nearly every Discworld book multiple times, absolute favorites growing up." [source]

User: "I kinda of assumed that Emmrich just calculates age in academia terms, so no matter how many physical years old your Rook is, you're just a tiny baby who hasn't completed a necromancy phd. "When I was your age" = "When I was a TA."" // Sylvia: "Yes, yes that math checks out." [source]

User on Emmrich: "how refreshing it was to have an argument with a LI that’s specific to their relationship. It gives the characters such texture and dimension!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! I liked the tone range we ended up having between everyone, it was more rewarding to do." [source]

User: "Would you guys ever expand more on Nevarra and its culture? I loved seeing the Necropolis, and hope we revisit it. But I'll be honest when I say it made me curious what life in Nevarra is like, and how infused Nevarra's Mortalitasi are with average Nevarran life." // Sylvia: "Since I've left the company, that's not really in my hands, so there's not much I can say. But I get what you mean, because the Mourn Watch are a subbranch of the Mortalitasi with a very special field of study and service. We don't really get much about everyday Nevarra. So whoever tackles that in the future, if they ever do: I think that could be neat. Lots of room to explore different dynamics and customs!" [source, two]

User: "I adore Emmrich, he's so sweet & so thoughtful! I especially adore his love for flowers, and I personally interpreted that as a hint from the writers (you!) that choosing to embrace his fleeting mortality, like the fleeting beauty of flowers, was his "good" path - is that correct? What's your take?" // Sylvia: "I tried really hard to make either choice feel like it could be the right one for him, because I wanted it to be more about a player's own interpretation-and their relationship with him-than author fiat hinting at which one is correct. Also thank you for the kind words! I really liked writing Emmrich enthusing about flowers." [source, two] // User: "He's such a charming character, the vibes of him and Josephine are among some of my favorites in the series, thank you for helping to shape them and for being kind enough to answer my question! Do you, personally, have a preference for which choice Emmrich makes? It's a tough call to make in game!" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, like a coward, I've not stated a preference because I don't want to accidentally influence people into thinking one was right or not. I'm also in a weird place where as the person writing him, my thoughts are far less subjective in weird recursive ways. If that makes sense." [source]

User: "do you have a favorite flower? It was such a lovely detail in Emmrich's character and it warms my heart to know writing that was enjoyable for you" // Sylvia: "It kind of changes depending on what's growing during the season, but while it's very common, you can't beat the scent of a rose. (Fond of lilacs too)" [source]

User: "Did you have any role in Manfred's wisp being lilac when/if you bring him back? That detail made me bawl 😭 Manfred was so shaped by "living" with Emmrich that his essence became Em's favorite color?! The only wisp we see to do so?" // Sylvia: "I wish! I actually don't know who did that. I'd assume that colour was chosen by one of our animators, or maybe the LD, so perhaps they added in that detail, which is adorable. (Carly, Derek Wilks, was this either of you?)" [source] // Derek Wilks: "I think that was someone in VFX actually!" [source]

Sylvia: "Glad you enjoyed the graveyard date, our animators and music director did wonders there." [source]

User: "Can you give us any hints on when Dorian spent some time at the necropolis? I need to know their circumstances for science (how old was Dorian back then? I could imagine he had a crush on the professor lol)" // Sylvia: "I'm going to chicken out and not pin that down (sorry.) Since I've left BW, my answer would be even more non-canonical than usual, because that would've been something I'd have wanted to talk over with the other writers. But by that same token, nothing I've said invalidates what you want to imagine." [source]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "I am flattered to hear he has become a favorite romance, the team went all out on him." [source] // Sylvia: "So many people worked on those scenes: animation, art, audio, the editors, and huge kudos to his actor Nick Borraine." [source]

Sylvia: "I THINK Emmrich is 6'2 or 6'3, but you'd need a character artist to confirm." [source]

User: "Do the necromancers of the Grand Necropolis have their own sort of culture? Like perhaps their own rituals for marriage, courting, etc.?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. Good question. I'm sure they have some individual quirks and traditions, like any long-running institution. But they probably don't deviate unrecognizably from the mortalitasi norm." [source]

Sylvia: ""i also played a trans rook, and some of emmrich's content for a romanced trans rook made for probably some of the best romance content of all time for me." That's so nice to hear, and I must give credit to some trans people who kindly took the time to give me feedback that made those lines better." [source]

User: "1) are Tevinter exchange students like Dorian common? 2) what are some of the other fraternities of the Mortalitasi? 3) do members of the Mourn Watch often attend social events with the Nevarran elite like other Mortalitasi?" // Sylvia: "1) Yeah, I think they're not uncommon. I took my inspiration from The Grand Tour, and thought it would make sense if Tevinter sent out some of the wealthier scions to see the world a little, pick up a few new spells. [link] 2) I'm afraid I've deliberately left this one blank, for future people to fill in if/when the need arises. Emmrich complains about the palace necromancers, so we do know there's a special cadre of mortalitasi running the show over there. 3. Absolutely. The MW are pretty prestigious in Nevarra with their running the Grand Necropolis. Much as Emmrich dislikes politics himself, there's probably a lot going on at the top." [source, two, three]

User: "Do you think Lich Emmrich would eventually be told by the Lich Lords to sever his mortal ties and return with them to the depths of the Necropolis? It seems like he’s willing to break all their rules to keep Rook with him" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid defining Emmrich's duties/responsibilities/required conduct as a lich would very much be something I'd leave up to the future (even if I were still at BW.) Kind of too big a topic for me to want to speculate here." [source]

User: "did you have a hand in designing how emmrich looks?" // Sylvia: "Yep, I gave feedback as his design progressed. Our concept artists really got him very early on, though, so it was smaller stuff." [source] // User: "was he at all inspired by Peter Cushing & his hammer film characters? He really gives off van Helsing vibes to me" // Sylvia: "Time permitting I want to do a post on influences, but you got it in one exactly. It was specifically the Hammer films I was thinking about!" [source] // User: "would Rudolph van Richten from Curse of Strahd be on his list of influences?" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, to my shame, I never read much of the core Ravenloft books, so that one's a no." [source]

User: "I needed you to know that Emmerich's conversation in the Memorial Gardens about his thanaphobia really got me. I could never put the words together of what thanaphobia feels like, and his description is perfect." // Sylvia: "It's a familiar feeling to me as well, and I'm glad it rang true." [source]

User: "I've got a really severe death phobia that's been flaring recently, and emmrich's conversation about it captured the feeling perfectly and helped lessen the weight for me" // Sylvia: "I find at least discussing it can ease it, sometimes, so I'm very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich helped in that way." [source]

Sylvia: "Hezenkoss was a blast to write so I'm glad she clicked for you. "preposterous is what you wore to a bog, Orlesian" Oh wow, Skywatcher! It's been an age, so glad that line stuck with you. That takes me back!" [source]

Sylvia: ""And yet I ask the question - what attracts Emmerich to the Hand? Yes, the answer is “perseverance”, but I think this is not fully explored." Do you mean the Hand of Glory specifically? He's intrigued and disturbed by the magic around it, which is why he hones on it, even before he knows its origin" [source]

Sylvia: ""I was wondering if you could tell us about his & Manfred's first meeting or notable moments in their friendship?" This feels like something I'd probably want to leave more to the imagination. And because I'm not a BW anymore, answers would be even more non-canonical than normal. All that said, for some reason, I always pictured Emmrich being alone in the Necropolis the first time Manfred's wisp floated up to him to peer at what he was doing. It just seems a little more poignant that way." [source, two]

Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made [Emmrich] so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

User: "me + a handful of people were wondering about non-mage mourn watchers! id love to hear your notes/thoughts about them! b/c i didnt remember hearing how they become MW or if reaper uses death magic!" // Sylvia: "Sure! Not much to say, though, I think the MW is likely a mage majority fraternity that accepts a few non-mages who have exceptional skills and temperaments sympathetic to the Necropolis. A warrior of great renown, a rogue of exceptional stealth and quiet, a baby found down there in a grave, and so forth. They'd certainly undergo the same kind of oaths and bindings every Watcher goes through. I always pictured them being provided with the best enchanted gear the MW has to offer too." [source, two]

User: "Hi! About Emmerich being a professor—does he teach at a Circle, or is he specifically a professor to other MWers and Mortalitasi? It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all?" // Sylvia: ""It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all? " Sure, but I think you have it, the MW seems to want to raise well-rounded students with a classical education on top of magecraft. In my mind, it was because they saw every MW as representing the Grand Necropolis, so of course they wanted its members to have training in etiquette and history and generally be able to move in polite society." [source, two]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: ""would it be possible for a (romanced) MW Rook join Emmrich in linchdom, eventually?" Yes: Rook can try, bc it's not forbidden to seek the knowledge out. (Emmrich makes it clear Hezenkoss pieced some of it together herself, so we've also seen another mage get it almost-right) It is very hard and probably takes decades to accomplish (and of course, there's no guarantee Rook would survive.) But everything written in game points to there being a chance." [source, two]

User: "I’ve been thinking a little about it and I know it’s mentioned in the game he would be interested in visiting - but how would Emmrich feel about visiting the Avvar in the south? They are one of the few groups that show respect for spirits in a similar way and I imagine he’d have a lot of questions." // Sylvia: "He'd probably love it. He'd be fascinated by their relationship with spirits, in the ways it mirrors and deviates from the Mourn Watchers' own practices. (I imagine there is also like a 15% chance he gets into a heated argument with one of them over a fine point of how spirits work exactly.)" [source]

User: "congratulations on another achievement, Emmrich took the silver trophy" // Sylvia: "I was so excited to see we'd gotten the silver trophy! I hope everyone who worked on him sees that." [source]

User: "Is there anywhere we can follow your future work after this account gets shut down ?" // Sylvia: "TBH I'll probably just reopen it it there's any cool news to share since I don't have a website or anything. (I THINK I can just reactivate it?)" [source]

User: "Thank you for Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, emmrich, Liara and Leigon!!!!" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (I should mention I was only a part of Legion in ME3 - specifically the N7 mission into the Geth Consensus. Great fun to work on that level though.)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm lucky to have had the chance to bring Emmrich and Josephine to you all with the rest of the team." [source]

Sylvia: ""I still remember when you introduced yourself on old BSN when Lair of the Shadow Broker came out." Wow, you're right I did! That is a blast from the past. Thank you for the kind words!" [source]

User: "Just wanted to say thank you for all the amazing characters you helped bring to life in DA and ME. I really enjoyed Emmrich and Hezenkoss in DAV. The dynamic between them really made me laugh" // Sylvia: "Thanks! That was one of my favorite pairs to write, the history between them meant everything was always a little more personal, which is always fun." [source]

Sylvia: "Thanks Janette, loved writing Hollix." [source]

User: "Elements of Emmerich's costume resemble the Cerberus logo from ME. Is this just a reference or is there something more to it?" // Sylvia: "Gee, I can't say for sure because I didn't make it, but I'd assume that one's just a coincidence (since the Mourn Watch and Necropolis use hexagonal shapes as their primary shape language)" [source]

User: "I can just tell how well Emmrich is written along his fear. I lost my fear of death and dying as I began to honor the dead." // Sylvia: "I do think talking and thinking about these things more than we normally do helps eases the fear." [source]

Sylvia: "Thank you for these lovely thoughts. I did read some books about different customs around death, and I know a little about pagan/occult/magic practices (in a very basic and generalist sense.) So it doesn't surprise me per se, but I am very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich was a positive thing. And I'm also very glad to hear he's someone you feel you can take into the future with you as a helpful friend." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""Does Emmrich have any guilty pleasures?" Huh. Excellent question. I should really be more decisive about my own character, but while I think that could be fun, I'm not sure what it would be. "Oh one other question , is there a part of thedas you wish you could of explored but wasn't able to be in game?" I've always been interested in the sinister sounding Sea of Ash. What goes on over there???" [source, two]

User: "i have a silly little question bc i also love emmrich. was his scene revealing lichdom to everyone meant to parallel a trans coming out or was that accidental? because i felt on an existential level the thrill of revealing who you are, but also fearing people would be afraid or treat you differently. (and then there's strife discussions, and putting up a glamour some places but not others, and the blooming but gentle self-confidence... he is very transgender to me)" // Sylvia: "Not a silly question at all! After writing the scene I wondered if people would see similarities because of those overlapping themes you pointed out: the dignity of bodily self-determination, revealing your true self to those you love, fear of rejection, hope for acceptance. But during the writing, I mostly approached becoming undead as its own thing, because I wanted to ground it in the MW's particular philosophy. I think there's parallels because of the way the human personal is universal, if that makes sense. That said, if this does feel very transgender to you or anyone else (or not), I'm not against varied interpretations. That's one of the cool things about seeing people actually get their hands on your work." [source, two, three]

User: "I'm not sure what Emmrich's hairstyle is, slickback?" // Sylvia: "Good question. Afraid I don't know what it'd be called either. Googling it, slickback LOOKS correct?" [source]

User: "Emmrich has definitely developed a special bond with Bellara and Lucanis, and yet, both of them don't comment on his relationship with Rook! What would you say their reaction was? Their banter was so good I'm sure we'd all love to know what Emmrich had to say!" // Sylvia: "Ah, that one I'm afraid I can't answer since I'm not their writer, and that would've been something I would've discussed with the narrative team together. Sorry!" [source]

Sylvia: "Nick was indeed brilliant!" [source]

User: "Ive got quite bad thanatophobia and Emmerich's writing is one of the only times I've seen that dealt with actually respectfully." // Sylvia: "Thanks very much! I've experienced that fear, and I suspect it's way more common than we think, and I'm glad to hear it felt that way to you." [source]

User: "My HOF was a spirit healer, very kind & very curious, & for years I've considered how that special connection to spirits might lend itself to an interest in Thedan necromancy & puzzling out where spirits & souls begin & end. Emmrich, Manfred/Curiosity and the wisps gave me so much to think about!" // Sylvia: "that's interesting about your HOF. They may've found some kindred spirits if they ever ventured further north." [source]

User: [was] "Dorian was taken over by a nominated writer for veilguard or if his legacy was more of a team effort ?" // Sylvia: "Dorian was in the capable hands of Writer Chee" [source]

User: "I’m also dying to know what Emmrich did during Rook's stint in the prison-my thought is he not only did the majority of the work on finding Rook, but in leading the team, prob finishing touches on the dagger clone, keeping the team together in Rook’s absence while barely holding himself together at times" // Sylvia: "I think he was indeed having some very sleepless, guilt-wracked nights, working himself too hard, and trying his best on that dagger." [source]

User: "I just wanted to tell you that I love Emmrich's part of the lighthouse the books the fact that it's right next to rook's room and that johanna is in it later and that you can talk to her" // Sylvia: "Thank you! I love what the level artist there did, it's such a cozy den of a place. And I'm glad you liked meeting Hezenkoss afterwards, all praise to the level and tech designers who got her in there." [source]

User: "Are the Watchers overall vegetarian, or was it a personal preference Emmrich developed?" // Sylvia: "I think it's a thing among some Watchers, but not all. Because they think a lot about life and death and the cycle of life, and their place in it, and what constitutes a death they feel comfortable with or not. My actual, original inspiration for it was from an old Call of Cthulhu TRPG book about Miskatonic University, set in the 1920s. There was a great little detail about the campus having a cafeteria that serves vegetarians. And when I read it, I got a little jolt because I was so used to vegetarianism in North America being portrayed as a relatively modern movement. But of COURSE there's always exceptions and cultural enclaves and so on. Just one of those moments you feel your understanding of what we were up to in the past shift a little, even if it felt obvious in retrospect." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia re: writing Manfred: "Yep, Manfred was my guy too." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed meeting our gentleman necromancer. (Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on, he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source]

User: "I was curious I know none of emmrich's serious relationships ended up panning out But like did any of them get to the point that him and his partner at the time shared a living space I'm wondering if emmrich has ever lived with anyone besides manfred" // Sylvia: "That's an interesting question. Like a coward I will hedge my bets, but I could MAYBE see a few. Not many though." [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paladin #dragon age 5 #lgbtq #mass effect #dragon age: tevinter nights #strife

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whowrotethenote · 8 hours ago

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building.

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see.

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music.

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop.

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me?

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state.

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent.

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber.

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison.

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time.

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer.

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks.

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running.

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short.

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him.

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me.

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position.

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited.

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening.

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him.

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy.

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose.

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi.

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake.

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leave leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out.

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him.

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!”

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower.

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about.

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response.

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands.

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking.

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath.

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short.

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass.

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove.

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again.

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently.

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop.

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear.

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move. Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips.

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening.

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him.

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air.

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to.

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip.

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin.

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand.

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe.

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all.

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious.

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be.

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name.

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many.

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again.

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

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auguryofjellyfish · 2 days ago

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random day 25 thoughts let's go

another otherwordly Tetro Friday? what's with chap 4, I swear, so far it's been a stream of endless bangers.

first of all, I hope Hiroaki and Tamba had a good day 😭 it was strange to not see Hiroaki at all....

[Oyasumi]

is that a goddamn Omori reference?? naw, it's not, but that's where everyone's mind went first and mine as well lol.

Oyasumi, oyaaasumi, close your eyes and you'll leave this dream....

normally something like this would make me worried, but honestly? i'm not. because Wada is not going to die. I'm not even considering the possibility. he's going to be okay. he might suffer but he's definitely going to make it. i'm not even scared of his death at all cause it's not gonna happen (except if they kill everyone in endgame). if he survived chapter 3, he can survive anything.

either way....such a sweet episode <3 loved the amount of focus Wada is getting like, THAT'S MY GOAT!!! I LOVE WADA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! please give him all the love and hugs.

HE'S NOT EATEN FOR 3 DAYS!! ?!??! Wada...i thought he'd not eat one day at a time, but, three...? no wonder he's crashing again. if the starvation motive hits, nnnnn holy shit but no he's going to be okay. trust.

I still need time to fully process [Bruise] but good lord, while watching it made my chest feel so heavy it felt like it was caving in. fucking concave. just. Mai. Ojima. it was so painful and so heavy but, i was overflowing with pride for them both. they're so incredibly strong. i love Ojima sm....

[Refulgence Post Mortem]

he loved Kamimura. he loved him. he didn't need to say it at all. i just knew from the way he talked about him. the way his voice went soft, the fondness, the light amusement... how Kamimura was stubborn, argumentative, funny, smart, kind... he made him sound so special. he painted such a lovely picture with his words.... and he had so much to say about him. he thought and worried about him a lot, Kamimura was interesting to him (!!!!!) ..... I hope Kamimura at least could tell that Ken really really liked him...he probably did.

he didn't always care about what Ken was talking about but he cared enough to pretend, always...this just...just. Kamimura cared so fucking much too.

on one hand, this is kinda nice, because Ken would never say all of this to Kamimura, so if he were alive we'd never hear Ken gush about him... but jesus, I'd rather have him back....

he was worried about Kamimura because of his suicidal tendencies, and when it seemed like he wanted to live again, he was just so relieved... the depth with which he said that, I just. wow. I know... I KNOW!!! I KNOW HE WAS GETTING BETTER! I know, Ken...!

Ken was so proud of him. so happy for him, so moved. HE WAS TURNING HIS EYES TOWARDS THE FUTURE!!! he tried to end it so many times because life was an unchanging never-ending hell BUT the instant he felt like he might not be doomed forever after all, that he could have people who love him, that he could find a place for himself in this world once more, he wanted to try again, he wanted TO LIVE.

and then she took him away.

...what the fuck. what the fuck, it's not fair...it's not fair. i can't get fucking over this, i can't, i can't. i can't. fuck. me. fuck...i hate this...

...I've seen a lot of discussion on whether Ken is gonna die this chapter. it's still a little too early to say for sure, but in my opinion, nah. he doesn't seem like he'd be a victim right now. he is a little vulnerable, but frankly in these people's place I would be scared to go at him cause he's tall, strong and has nothing left to lose.

as for whether he'd kill...mmmnnnneehhh.......no...? not in chap 4 at least. he is in a really bad way, and that "she destroyed....everything." was so good, it sounded really dark and wrathful, but, yanno. i'm mostly just side-eyeing the "everything"...

if okazaki was somehow still alive i would def be concerned about him going for her head but lol. that's taken care of already. i guess it's not impossible for him to find another outlet for his anger, COUGH watari COUGH but still, he is more depressed than angry.

he said "there's nothing left." he still has his family but he can't even take them into consideration right now. that's what he truly feels- utter desolation. how could he have the motivation to plan a murder in this state? when he "lost everything"? i'd be much more worried if he continued with his total isolation arc but with this episode, he's not too far gone. just feeling overwhelming malaise. doesn't help that he's off his meds.

then again, we might be going back to unintentional murders, so it's not out of the question. it would just be weird for Ken to try to kill everyone on purpose??

also he won't try to kill himself people 💔 he won't. although.

i was 100% sure he wouldn't before this ep, and now i'm just a little less sure. 🙁

everything is gray now.

the biggest thing i took away from this week's episodes...I really...really don't want anyone else to die...I really don't. none of them. not Ojima. not Hayashi. not Hiroaki. not Wada. not Hasegawa. not Watari. not Tamba. not Yanagi. not Hama. none of them. i really don't want anyone to die anymore.

#tetro danganronpa pink

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biggerbearficrecs · 1 day ago

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January 2025 Fic Recs

A list of what I’ve read/am reading this month.

[Note: Sorry for the delay.]

All recs underneath the cut:

Summary:

Teaser:

The Restless One by @bullet-prooflove (Colter Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Colter never sticks around in one place until now.

Teaser:

He sighs, thinking you’ve disappeared again but then he hears the crackle of wood outside, sees the orange glow of a fire peeking through the blinds.

He brings the blanket with him when he steps outside of the trailer. There’s a bite in the Nebraska air that causes goosebumps on his skin, he can see them on yours too as you sit out here in nothing but his t-shirt with a mug of tea clasped between your hands.

The scent of lavender reaches his nostrils, it’s infused with honey and camomile. Nightime tea, he realises, the exact same type his mom used to make when he was a kid.

“Bad dreams?” He questions as he drapes the blanket around your shoulders, squeezing them gently before he sits down alongside you.

“You think I’d be used to them by now.” You sigh, tucking yourself up against him.

“I don’t think it’s ever something you get used to.” He says softly, staring into the fire. “I still dream about the night my father died, finding him at the bottom of that cliff…”

He trails off then because he doesn’t like going back to that night, the guilt that’s associated with it. For the longest time he’d thought Russell was responsible, but then he ran into him again, looked into his eyes he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that his brother had killed their father.

“They say that PTSD changes your brain chemistry.” You tell him as you cradle the mug to your chest. “Mine must be seven shades of fucked up at this point.”

“I’d say we’re both a little fucked up.” Colter concedes as he gathers you up close, shielding you from the coldness of the night. “It’s probably why this works so well.”

A comfortable silence falls, the two of you watching the flames as they lick up towards the sky trying to chase away the darkness.

The Exit Strategy by @waynes-multiverse (Russell Shaw x Female!Reader)

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Teaser:

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that.

Unspoken Words by @winchesterwild78 & @cheekygirl2309 (Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Summary: This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there.

Teaser:

We were walking around looking at everything they had. Lily saw shirts and other items with Jensen on them and immediately wanted them.

Then I heard a laugh that instantly pulled my head in the other direction. Standing at the Radio Company table was Jensen.

My heart beat wildly. Lily didn’t hear or see him at first, but then he started talking and she saw him.

Her eyes went wide and before I could stop her she ran towards him, arms wide and hugged his leg.

“ Oh, who’s this?” He said as I walked up. Clif was instantly by his side. I was so scared we were about to be kicked out.

“I am so sorry. She saw you and got away before I could grab her. Lily, let go. Come on baby.” She held tighter. Jensen smiled at me and bent down, “Hello Lily. It’s nice to meet you.” She held tighter.

“I’m so sorry. She doesn’t speak. She’s nonverbal but loves Dean. We watch the show together as a way to bond. Lily, please let go. He has to leave. We have to leave.”

She shook her head no. I took a deep breath trying to hold myself together.

1am by @bullet-prooflove (Joe Velasco x Reader)

Summary: You call Joe at 1am asking for a ride

Teaser:

You’re asleep, curled up in the passenger seat of Joe’s car, his leather jacket draped around you. He turns up the heating, reaching over to alter the vent so the warm air blows in your direction.

You’d scared the hell out of him tonight, calling him up at 1am drunk and crying, begging him to pick you up. He doesn’t think he’s ever dressed so quickly in his life. He’d found you hanging around outside that old bar the two of you used to visit, back when you were more than just friends.

He gets part of the story as he helps you into the car. The man you were with, the one after him, he was fucking someone else. You’d caught him in your bed, left the apartment without so much as your jacket.

Joe can’t say he’s surprised, there’s always been rumours about that guy, he’d tried to tell you that but you’d accused him of being bitter, jealous. It’s the reason the two of you stopped talking for a while because you were half right, he was jealous of the man who got to love you, the one that wasn’t him.

Baby, it's Cold by @winchestergirl2 (Alec McDowell x Reader)

Summary: Alec tries to convince you to stay in bed.

Teaser:

There was a crisp chill in the air when you woke, making you want to snuggle back down under the covers. Turning your head, to check the time you realise you are going to have to brave the chill or face the wrath of Normal for being late to work once again. Although in your defence, how were you supposed to resist the charms of the man who was the cause of your recent tardiness.

As you try to twist yourself out of the warm cacoon you were in, Alec woke up and slid his arms around you, mumbling into your neck 'it's too cold, stay in bed'.

Downpour by @klutzygirl (Brooke x Rachel)

Summary: Rachel and Brooke run out into a storm.

Teaser:

Rachel grabbed Brooke’s hand and gently dragged out of the house, ready to soak up the storm. “What the hell?” a laughing Brooke shrieked as the rain started to pour down on them.

“Figured you’d want to enjoy this,” a grinning Rachel told her before they locked lips.

“Okay, you win this round,” Brooke acquiesced.

“Glad you know who the real winner is here,” Rachel snarked at her girlfriend before twirling her around.

They were both soaked to the bone now but neither one of them gave a flying fuck about it - they could have fun drying each other off in a little while.

Sneaking Away by @caplanbuckybarnes (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean catches you just before you leave the bunker for good.

Teaser:

The creak of the bunker’s heavy door echoed faintly in the stillness of the night, followed by the soft shuffle of boots against the cold floor. You barely made it past the war room when a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you sneaking off to at this late hour?”

You froze, heart sinking at the familiar gravel in Dean’s voice. Slowly, you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes shadowed with suspicion—and something deeper you couldn’t quite place.

“Dean…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor, the sound unnerving in the silence. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, nodding toward the duffel slung over your shoulder.

You tightened your grip on it instinctively, your stomach churning. “It’s nothing. I just need some air, that’s all.”

“That why you’ve got your car keys, too?” His jaw clenched, his gaze burning into yours.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his eyes. You’d spent weeks working up the nerve for this moment, convincing yourself it was for the best. But standing here, with Dean looking at you like that—like you were breaking something inside him—it was almost too much to bear.

#11 by @talesfromlissom (SDV Leah x Female!Reader)

Teaser:

Leah looks up and behind the couch again, her grip on her fuzzy blanket tightening. There’s another crash against the door, causing Leah to flinch. You turn to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Leah?” You whisper.

“I heard it again.” She whispers. “The…banging on the door.”

“Banging?” You ask.

Leah nods, her eyes fixed on the door infront of her.

“Do…Do you think-” Leah starts.

“No, I never think.” You chuckle, grinning afterwards. Leah frowns.

“Sorry.” You mutter, clearly not being able to lighten the mood.

Leah scooches over to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“You don’t think someone is trying to break in…right?”

You shake your head.

“In this weather? No. I wouldn’t even go out in this weather. I think it’s just the thunder, dear.” You say, planting a soft kiss on her head.

Hush Hush Behind The Shield by @syrma-sensei (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Being America's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free…

Teaser:

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

"I'd let you if you asked" by @heavysighing-dreamyeyes (Jason Todd x Reader)

Teaser:

Jason Todd always had a habit of being in your space. It's something you didn't mind, but it is something you kept note of. He leans towards you, head angled down to catch every sound that comes through your throat, observing every twitch of your muscles with a sharp, intent gaze.

But even if he always seems to linger in your shadow, even if his eyes darkened with the desire for something more, he was careful. He never touched you before you touched him, and he always caught himself, when his fingers instinctively reached for you.

Something as simple as a hug, a brush over the back of your hand, a tousle of your hair, he denied himself over and over again. It was almost frustrating to see him denying himself something you never held back from him.

He melts into every hug you give, relishes when you thread your fingers together, nearly drops to his knees every time you kiss his cheek.

But then he'll falter, when you pull away, like he's snapping back to reality. He'll remind you that he's not good. In not so many words, he tells you he's poison. That he'll end up ruining you. Breaking you.

You think he's silly for it, because Jason Todd is nothing but good.

Helping Hand by @bensonstablers (Benson x Velasco)

Summary: Prepared to go home for the night, Velasco finds Olivia still in her office and sticks around to check in with her.

Teaser:

He moves closer to where she stands but not too close, afraid to spook her again.

“Here.”

She turns, looking a little startled but not scared. Her eyes narrow in confusion then down to the bag of peas he’s holding up and her face turns to amusement as she raises a brow at him. “Peas?”

“Yeah, I picked them up.” He feels nervous suddenly. “Figured they might come in handy with," he gestures vaguely to her face, "and I wanted to do something.”

She visibly softens and when she speaks, her voice is quiet but sure. “You’ve done a lot. I don’t think we could have gotten to Oscar Papa as quickly as we did without you helping to get his driver's name.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugs. “And anyway, I know from experience that frozen peas can sometimes be better, more comfortable, than ice.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re in pain.” He urges the bag towards her. “Now, all due respect, Captain… Take the bag.”

An amused smile forms on her face. “Is that an order, detective?”

“If that’s what works for you.”

There’s a moment before Olivia huffs out a laugh and swipes the peas from him and Velasco can’t help the triumphant smile that crosses his face. There’s a slight roll of her eyes before she presses the bag to her face. He has to bite back a laugh when a groan escapes her and her shoulders sag with relief.

“I’ll let it pass that you gave me an order, if you don’t let it get to your head that this was a good idea.”

He really does laugh then and feeling emboldened he guides her over to the couch, ignoring her protests, and gets her to sit down.

"All that tough talking you were doing and now look at ya" by @daryl-dixon-daydreams (Negan Smith x Reader)

Teaser:

"Whoooa, whoa! Okay—hey, doll. Take it easy. Negan's here," he said, kneeling down beside you. "I'm gonna help you outta here, alright?" One of your pant legs was absolutely soaked in blood and your teeth were gritted against the pain. You had a hand pressed over your thigh but blood was seeping out between your fingers alarmingly fast.

You looked up at him and your eyes were fearful and a little disbelieving to see him there. "Didn't I tell you, about two hours ago, to 'fuck off'?" you breathed.

Negan couldn't help chuckling a little despite the situation. He pulled a spare shirt from his bag and ripped a strip off. "Anything you want to take back?"

You shut your eyes and leaned back against the tree behind you. "I don't know. Let me think about it."

He smiled. "Yeah, alright. While you think about it, I'm gonna save your life, okay?"

Against the Wind by @zepskies (Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega Female!Reader)

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

Teaser:

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you’re able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can’t yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you…

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply. The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest.

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you.

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart.

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you.

“Dean,” he says.

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Forging A New Life by @klutzygirl (Beau x Cassie)

Summary: Beau and Cassie start building a new life once they move in together.

Teaser:

Beau dropped a box on the floor and groaned. “I hate moving,” he complained to his girlfriend.

Cassie glanced down at the box then looked back up at him. “You’re lucky there’s nothing breakable in there,” she teased.

He shrugged. “Eh, fuck it even if there was anything fragile. I don’t care anymore.” He plopped down on the couch, needing to take a break.

Cassie joined him and smiled when he wrapped his arm around her. “Moving sucks.”

The ranch was perfect so that was a point in its favor - as was the woman he loved. He and Cassie were forging a new life together - with Emily and Kai - that they hoped would last. This was a second chance at love for both of them. They didn’t intend to waste a minute of it.

Okay to Cry by @romancingromanoff (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: (request) Natasha romanoff and reader? Established relationship. Reader has a really really bad day and comes home crying, doing her best to hide her tears from her girlfriend but Nat finds out anyway?

Teaser:

You wiped a couple of stray tears off on your sleeves and blinked profusely while fanning your face. Looking in the rear view mirror again you noticed that your eyes were indeed a little puffy but you could just blame it on allergies. Sighing at your predicament, you dragged your way out of your car and tried not to make too much noise fumbling with your keys at the door. You opened it as quietly as you could and stepped into the house.

“Hey, babe,” Nat’s voice came from the kitchen where you could also smell leftovers being cooked up.

“Hi!” you tried to sound like your normal chipper self but then whined at how over exaggerated that came out. She would definitely be suspicious now…

“You’re excited. Good day at work?”

“Um, yeah,” you carefully put up your coat and bag near the door so that you were facing away from your girlfriend at all times. “Addison’s birthday was today so she brought in cupcakes for everybody.”

“Ooh, those ones her boyfriend the baker does with the homemade icing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you bring me one back?” Natasha eyed you looking up from her food and you did your best to try and just casually shrug before just naturally becoming interested in arranging the vase of flowers in the hallway. It wasn’t your worst coverup since you often went a little OCD and organized random things around the house, but you still hadn’t even looked at your girlfriend which caused her to frown in suspicion.

“Uh, no, sorry. He only made enough for everyone at work.”

“I think you’re lying,” her words pierced you with fear and you froze for a second. Trying to play it off, you fake sneezed into your elbow and then continued to take your shoes off, never looking her way.

“You’re right,” you playfully fussed back. “Sorry, I just got hungry on my way home. You know, in the traffic?”

“Y/N,” Natasha was blatantly demanding that you look her in the eyes. You cringed and took a deep breath in before putting on your best face and turning around.

Sweet Like Chocolate by @raz-writes-the-thing (Venom x Reader)

Summary: Venom's enjoys it when you're his host.

Teaser:

WE ARE NOT A BABY.

You tut and continue about making Venom’s tater tots. It hadn’t really been a genuine thought. It’s just that when you and Eddie trade Venom between you like parents trading a toddler for alone time, it kind of felt that way at times. Not that you were complaining, of course. Any time with Venom piggybacking in your head was time well spent in your own personal opinion.

It was just a shame that you weren’t a better match. Then he could come around with you more often. But no, that was Eddie’s responsibility, it would seem.

“I know, V- you know how human brains work. Thoughts just pop in unannounced.”

I WILL ALLOW IT.

You chuckle and pour yourself a glass of wine. A tendril of Venom’s form spreads from your back to put the wine bottle away for you, and you thank him kindly. Checking the timer on the tots, you frown. They were going to be at least another fifteen minutes.

“What do you want to do tonight, V?” You ask, plopping down on the lounge chair and taking a sip.

WE WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU.

You smile softly, and Venom chuckles in your brain in response. That took some getting used to, actually, hearing someone laugh in your mind. But like all things, you acclimated.

“We’re doing that, buddy,” you reply.

Whiskey and Cola by @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: When Y/N visits Harvelle’s, she’s not feeling her best. It isn’t until another bright-eyed hunter joins her for a drink that things start to liven up…

Teaser:

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

Y/N gave a start and looked to her left. She hadn’t noticed that a young man had taken a seat on the stool next to her despite the line of empty spots.

She quirked a brow. “Is that your idea of a pick-up line?” she asked, unimpressed.

The man turned away from her to wave at Ellen. “Double shot of whiskey. Rocks!” he called out.

“On it!”

He turned back to Y/N and grinned. “Course’ not. I just can’t believe you ordered a can of Coke at a bar. Just making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. You know that they sell booze here, right?”

“I like pop.”

“I can see that. Just take it easy on the sugar, something tells me you’re sweet enough,” he said with a wink.

“Dean Winchester!” Ellen exclaimed, placing an amber glass and a red can in front of the man and Y/N respectively. “Quit heckling my customers!”

“I happen to be engaging in polite conversation here, Ellen,” he said innocently. “No harm done. Oh and before you go, how bout’ you keep a couple of beers on standby for me?”

Y/N chuffed in amusement. “I’ll lay off the sugar alright,” she said. “Just as soon as you tone down on the alcohol. It’ll do a number on your liver, you know.”

He tipped his glass forwards. “Touché.”

Stolen Crown by @roonyxx & @jay-and-dean (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces?

Teaser:

Her back flat against the tree, she turns her head a little to be able to see beyond the thick bark, holding her breath and reaching for the knife in her boot.

A beautiful, massive shiny black horse is nervously stepping on the ground while the owner of the mare pats it on the neck.

“Easy girl” the man says.

She frowns, keeping the dagger in her hand, ‘that voice… I know it.’ When she dares to look between the leaves, her eyes widen.

“Dean?” she says with a confused smile, putting the knife back in her boot, as she steps from out of the bushes.

“My Queen !” he throws his leg over the majestic black horse and steps off, right away going down on one knee in front of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I have been looking for you, my Queen” he says towards the ground, not looking up to her once.

“Queen ?” she huffs, still a little dizzy. “Where the Hell are we, Dean ? And what the fuck are you wearing, is that… a freaking armor?” she asks, pointing at his weird clothes.

Dean finally tilts his head upwards. And when he sees her, his eyes nearly fall out of his head, his mouth is open but no words leave his lips. The more he stares at her like she was naked, the more she starts to feel a little self conscious.

His eyes slowly travel up her bare legs, a confused expression on his face, when she bends a little to make eye contact with him he quickly adverts his gaze.

“Your Majesty, what happened to your robes ? Are you harmed ?” he asks, obviously worried.

“Cut the crap, Dean, what’s happening ? Where are we ?” she asks, annoyed.

“We are in the…” he looks around a little, apparently wondering what to answer. “In the woods… Not far from the Castle, my Queen” he says.

She stares at him, mouth agape, a deep feeling of confusion replacing the annoyance totally. Her tone changes to something colder, more distant.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘queen’ ?” she asks. “And what’s up with the stupid clothes ?”

He dares looking up at her again, a sorry frown on his face.

“My apologies, your Highness. I do not understand… Is there something wrong with my apparel ?” he stands up, his eyes searching her face. “Did you hit your head or have you fallen maybe ? You disappeared, my Queen. I have been so worried” he turns to his horse to retrieve a big grey fur cloak. “What happened to your gown, did someone attack you ?”

His head low, he comes closer to carefully drape the very heavy cape around her shoulders.

“I obviously failed at my duty” his eyes are dark and she clearly recognizes that crushing guilt on his features

She touches the floor length fur coat he put around her with a frown. It’s pleasantly warm outside, there is no need for this…

Everything he does is weird, and why does he look so different ? Was he hit by a spell of some weird stuff like that time he was losing his memory ?

Unless…

If It's Meant To Be by @jawritter (Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader)

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Teaser:

“Go away Omega,” he warned, sending a shiver down her spine at the use of her title in his voice. “You’re not safe here.”

Now, normally, that would have sent her running, screaming in the other direction. But she was nothing if she wasn’t stubborn, and fuck if he didn’t smell amazing, and the way his deep voice rolled over made her heart hammer so loud against her ribcage that she seriously thought he could probably hear it through the door. There was no way she could run now if she wanted to. The Omega had gotten his scent, and she knew what she wanted. She wanted her Alpha. Beau was her Alpha, she knew it, she just knew it.

“Alpha, please, open the door,” she pleaded and he whined as she placed her hand on the cold silver steal of the door. “Jenny said you’ve been sick for days now. I can help. Just let me in.”

“Darlin, you don’t want to be tied to a man like me, and if you come in here, I’m not gonna be able to stop. Leave, please, while I still have the composure to let you,” he tried again, and she flinched at the rejection in his voice.

He was standing closer to the door now, probably leaning on the other side, because she could swear that she felt the heat of his body coming through the thin steel.

“You’re not gonna scare me off Beau,” she stated matter of factly, rooted in her own stubbornness. She never was one to give up very easily and walk away, especially not when it took all the self convincing to even come all the way out here to see him.

“I’m not trying to scare you, I’m telling you the truth,” he growled through the door. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve got more baggage than I can even handle on a good day. My job is dangerous, I’m more likely to die on the end of some asshole’s gun than I am to retire. I’ve got a child with another woman. I live in a goddamn tin-can that I call a trailer. I’m old enough to be your dad. I’m action packed with issues you will hopefully never see. I’ve got trust issues, and separation anxiety. I talk to fucking much. I promise you Omega, you don’t want me. No one does.”

Y/N leaned her forehead against the cold door, and closed her eyes to fight against the sudden pit that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach. His scent had changed to an almost sour, oppressively sad scent that could have been suffocating, and it told her that he believed every word that had just come out of his mouth. It made her heart ache for him.

Marry me in the battlefield by @herstarburststories (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean decides to propose you in the midst of a hunt.

Teaser:

The surprise stokes him when he recognizes them on your face, moonlight shinning on you as if its only mission is to give you light to search in the dark for more monsters. Lisa understood job, but you understand what exactly comes with it. Not only the anxiety, not having a home for too long, or the fact that there are guns hidding in every inch of places you stay for a couple hours.

You understand the thrill, the necessity to keep going, how the blood in your hands is never going to be washed, so you might as well make it worth it.

And you smile. You smile as if it was a romantic date and you couldn’t wait to kiss him. You smile as if this is a good routine. You smile as if you are excited to crumble into a random restaurant and eat food that will kill you from inside.

And Dean knows you mean all of it. You want this life, you want him. You love how it goes.

Therefore, it’s no shock when the words leave his lips, “Marry me.”

Sam stops on his tracks, holding a vampire’s head as a football ball; he is surprised, and so are you. Ok, this specific moment might be unsettling for normal people, but what would be more fitting than that for you two?

You frowned, unsure of your own ears, “What?”

“I said, marry me.”

Love On the 26th Floor by @wayward-dreamer (Dean Smith x Reader)

Summary: Y/N has been working as a personal assistant to the successful CEO of Smith Construction Co, for just a few weeks. It may not be her field of expertise, but she needs this job to pay off her student loans and live her life as she tackles a part-time Masters degree at the same time. She finds her boss Dean Smith incredibly intimidating and insanely attractive; but an office fling is the last thing she needs, especially with her employer. But you can only avoid temptation for so long…

Teaser:

“Congratulations to Y/N, on her new job at Smith Construction!”

Y/N and her friends clinked their glasses of champagne together, cheering for her as the loud chatter of the bar continued around them. Y/N sipped the sparkling liquid, smiling at her friends.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arm around Annie, who had just given the toast.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be working for Dean Smith,” Emma exclaimed from across the table. “He’s so fucking gorgeous!”

“You get to look at his face any time you want,” Annie said, smirking.

“And maybe even do something else,” Emma suggested, wagging her eyebrows. The girls laughed, but Y/N didn’t join in.

“Guys, come on. I’m not going to sleep with my boss. I need this job and I’m grateful he even gave it to me. So, drop it. Okay?” she told them, looking between both her friends, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Y/N. We were only joking,” Emma muttered, a sheepish look gracing her face.

“It’s okay, let’s just forget about it.” Y/N took another sip of her drink, before picking up the menu from the table. “Alright, what’re we eating?”

As her friends continued to decide what they wanted, Y/N’s mind pondered over what they had just talked about. Dean Smith had absolutely had an effect on her, and she knew how hard it was going to be to work for him now. However, no matter what happened, she couldn’t give into the thoughts she was having about him. As much as she wanted him to rip her clothes off and bend her over his desk, she couldn’t let it happen.

She needed this job, and she was determined to keep it.

Too Close To Gone by @jawritter (Huntercorp!Dean x Reader)

Summary: Dean’s been gone for a year. You have been gone from the Bunker for just about as long. When you finally get the guts to go back “home” after leaving, someone you never thought you’d see again stumbles into your life, and now you have to figure out how to move on with a constant reminder of what you’ve lost following you around in the flesh.

Teaser:

Slowly, you peek around the wall, and stop in your tracks, nearly dropping your gun at the sight that was waiting for you.

At first, you were in utter shock at seeing Dean’s face, albeit battered and more than a little banged up, but it was his face. His eyes stared bewildered back at you as he raised his hands slowly, using the sidewall of the building to brace himself.

Once the shock faded, anger took its place. You fired a shot at the ground close to the creature’s feet before you even realized what you were doing. The damn idiot just sank to the ground and covered it’s face.

How could this creature, whatever the fuck it was dare put on your dead boyfriend’s face. How dare it imitate him. You were going to destroy it, whatever it took.

“Y/N! Please, it’s me! It’s Dean!” It yelled at you from it’s cowered position on the ground as you fired off another round, this time one much closer than the previous one that had landed in the dirt. You hadn’t intended to taunt the creature, but whatever the fuck it was that was trying to act like he was your Dean, that shit wasn’t going to fly.

Tears were rolling down your face in anger. You had never been so sick. So angry. The last time you had seen that face was when you had spent hours washing off the blood that had dripped from his lips, and you wrapped him up so carefully to be burned. Now, it was calling your name a damn look alike? You couldn’t think. All you could see was red.

“Don’t you fucking dare imitate Dean, you sick son of a bitch. I’m going to fucking kill you, you understand me. You’re going to fucking die. Dean is dead. I buried his ashes myself, and you’re going to come here and try to act like him! After you sons of bitches took him from me!”

This time you sent a round straight to it’s thigh muscle, and it screamed in pain, it’s voice an exact echo of what Dean’s had been. It was silver bullets in the gun, a devil’s trap carved into the blunt tip of the bullet. If it was a werewolf you would have gotten a hell of a lot more than a scream, and if it was a demon it wouldn’t be able to try and roll away from you like it was doing. Silver would have proved it a shifter too, but something wasn’t right.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m not imitating Dean. I am Dean goddammit! From the other world! The one Chuck destroyed! Remember? You were there when my brother Sam and I left here!”

You froze on the spot, completely unable to move.

Meet Cute by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader)

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to “Your Fault,” describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time.

Teaser:

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea.

The One That Got Away by @justwhisperingfantasies (Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Summary: You thought you had left Supernatural and Jensen in the past, but almost 6 years later you get roped back in when your job is on the line.

Teaser:

“I don’t think I can do this.” A nervous Jensen admitted walking up to the curtain on the stage between you and Jared.

“Jay, you got this,” Jared assured him.

Jensen took a deep breath. “Did you get the seat?” He looked over to you.

“Yes, I’ll be right in front of you. When you get nervous or overwhelmed just look down and I’ll flash you or something.”

Jensen let out a laugh lifting his face.

“Um, (y/n) I’m feeling a bit nervous too. “ Jared professed

You and Jensen glared at him. “I think you’ll be alright.” You told him walking over to the stage entrance

“You guys got this.” You kissed Jensen on the cheek. “I love you both.” You then kissed Jared on the cheek. “Have fun!!” You said as you turned to walk away.

“Love you too.” They said at the same time. You could hear the boys talking, but you couldn’t make out the words.

Lily was standing by the wall. She started walking with you as you passed. “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?” You rolled your eyes and looked back at Jensen. He blew you a kiss and mouthed thank you. You nodded and gave him a smile.

“Probably not.” You said facing forward and continuing walking.

Princess Treatment by @storiesofsvu (Terry Bruno x Reader x Joe Velasco)

Teaser:

You tugged your lip into your mouth, glancing toward the bathroom once again and were just about to slip your fingers into the waist band of your shorts when a beep echoed from the door and you nearly jumped, reaching out for your cocktail again.

“Hey.” Joe flashed a tired smile in your direction as he let the door fall shut behind him, already tugging the shirt off his body to toss in the direction of his bag. He stalled slightly, glancing back to you as his hands came to his belt buckle, “you mind?”

“Huh?” You barely pulled your eyes away from the television and he chuckled.

“Who am I kidding, you’re already in your underwear.” Another couple of seconds and he was stripped down to his briefs, wandering to the mini fridge to grab a beer while you drained the rest of your cocktail. He looked up at the sound of your straw scraping the bottom of the glass combined with a muffled noise he couldn’t quite make out, “what?”

“Neighbour’s got company.” You explained, nodding your head toward the wall.

“Great.” He muttered, grabbing a beer, “you want one?”

“Please.”

He tossed you the chilled can before retreated to the other bed, dropping against it and you couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of your eye as he rolled the can against his neck to help cool down as he settled in. Right as he cracked open the beer there was a rather loud moan from the other side of the wall, followed by the sound of a spank and an even louder noise from the woman. An exaggerated chain of swears and moans began to come through the wall and Jose chuckled.

“Someone’s enjoying themselves.”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, “she’s showing off.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow in your direction and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes.”

On the other side of the room the shower finally came to a stop, Terry stepping out wrapped in a towel a few minutes later. He was about to greet the two of you when the bedframe from the other room began colliding with the wall, the woman’s wails nowhere near natural and he huffed.

“Are they seriously still going at it?”

“Still?!” You whined, “it sounded like they just started.”

The banging on the wall increased, louder with each hit and you barely had time to wince before Terry pounded against the shared wall with his fist. Silence overtook the room for a couple of seconds, followed by muffled laughter until the moans started up again.

“Looks like no one’s getting any sleep tonight.” Bruno groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Great.” You muttered, taking a swig of your beer.

Stoking the Flame by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior (Beau Arlen x Jenny Hoyt)

Summary: Jenny and Beau have been ignoring the spark between them for a long time. How much longer can they continue?

Teaser:

It had been there from day one.

Under the cover of antagonism and teasing, behind the barriers of obligations and professionalism, there had burned the embers of a fire she knew would quickly flare to life if they ever dared to stoke the flames for even a moment.

Beau broke their locked gaze, as he usually did, looking away into the fire. But he squeezed her knee gently, letting her know without words that he wasn't pulling away completely.

She leaned into him a little closer and laid her head on his wide shoulder, his jacket slightly rough beneath her cheek. He kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it.

They stayed that way for a while, knowing that they could continue on like this, simply giving each other comfort and staring into the flames; they wouldn't be going any further, they wouldn't be risking anything, they could still make believe they were just partners, just friends.

They could stay like this and stay safe.

But as though by silent, simultaneous agreement they pulled out of the easy embrace, turning to look at one another. Their gazes connected again and Jenny knew Beau wasn't leaving tonight.

Oh, and before I forget…

Thank you!!! 💕💕

all dividers by @saradika-graphics

#biggerbearficrecs #january 2025

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sonnet009games · 9 months ago

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Demonology: Incubus Master Post & FAQ

AVAILABLE CHAPTERS

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

EXTRAS

Chapter 1.5 | Chapter 2.5 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4.5 | Chapter 5.5

Flea Q&A

Playlist

FAQ

Q: How many chapters is Incubus going to be?

A: Probably around 10.

Q: What's the release schedule?

A: The plan is to release each chapter no more than 1-2 months apart.

Q: When will the final chapter be released?

A: 2025 sometime at the earliest.

Q: Will Incubus be released as a complete game with all the chapters in one?

A: No, almost certainly not.

Q: Will there be a discount if I wait to buy all the chapters at once?

A: The chapters will probably be collected into a itch.io bundle and sold with a $1 discount once the final chapter is released.

Q: I don't like to read/play unfinished stories. Should I wait for the final chapter before I start?

A: I completely understand--I'm the same! However, Incubus is a long-form narrative and was never really intended to be consumed all at once--though, of course, you can! Here's how the arcs play out chapter-wise: Chapters 1-3 = first arc Chapters 4-5 = second arc Chapter 6 onward = all standalone chapters So, hopping onboard after Chapter 3, Chapter 5, and then every chapter after that should provide enough satisfaction and closure for most players.

Q: Will you be releasing Incubus on any platforms other than as a downloadable for PC/Mac?

A: There are no current plans to do this while the story is still being released. I may evaluate my options at a later date, but this is no guarantee.

#Demonology: Incubus #Demonology Incubus #Demonology IF #Incubus IF #FAQ #how many times can I say the word 'probably' in one post #let's see

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wildwolf-fandoms · 4 months ago

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In HTF fandom, you can know who to trust and not trust just by listening/reading what they think of some of the characters

"I love Fliqpy and Flippy but the raccoon who implied to be poor and is mentally ill is the spawn of evil for stealing, killing his brother, and `making illogical choices`. Aka when he is being a piece of shit Kleptomanic like the show intended"

"Don't get me wrong I love Handy but I don't understand why he is complaining when Russell has it worse."

"I don't understand why Petunia is always overreacting. Can't she just calm down for once?"

"I don't get why these characters trust Mole/Lumpy/Flippy/Lammy when they are DANGEROUS and SHOULD BE LOCKED UP."

Thanks for proving that disabled people can't trust you 👍

#badger posts shit #i'll be honest not all of these complains are from fans. some are from reaction channels #for real i've seen people say that Flippy should be locked up in an asylum... for killing others in a show made for... killing characters 😭#also back in the day there used to be shitton of people who would try to invalidate Handy's frustration because #`Russell is disabled too and he doesn't complain either`#even tho Russ clearly managed to heal and replace his missing limbs while Handy's wounds are clearly fresh abd he clearly can't #- probably because he is poor because he works even when he should be resting.#even Russell too struggles with his disability from time to time and gets frustrated with it. its just shown lesser than Handy's #htf #happy tree friends #happy tree friends fandom #htf flippy #happy tree friends fliqpy #htf fliqpy #shifty htf #htf shifty #htf handy #htf russell #htf petunia #mole htf #handy htf #lumpy htf #happy tree friends flippy #htf lammy #Tbh I'm not disabled but I feel like no one talks about how albeist this fandom was back in the days 😭 especially those reaction channels #please tell me if i'm speaking over actual disabled people or if i worded something wrong tho so i can fix it #i avoided this fandom for years because of the way many fans were

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contagious-watermelon · 4 months ago

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it's kind of like insanely isolating that literally every aspec or "ace & aro" space I've found has been in actuality, solely for aces. perhaps arospec aces or aroaces who entirely prioritize their asexuality could also find company there, but even as an aromantic person who is also asexual, they're really not intended for me. so I can only imagine how isolating it must be if you're aromantic and allosexual

#I went to this aspec club on campus last fall‚ and cliquiness aside‚ they were literally talking about dating in there. like one guy was all #''I've been talking to this girl.... you think I should get her number?'' yada yada yada #like ok I guess this is just for asexuals then.#I can put up with hearing vague romance talk in other situations but in an allegedly 'aro and ace' club? nah fam #also‚ the first time I went (I gave up after the second meeting lol)‚ we went around and introduced ourselves and then you could say what #kind of aspec you were if you wanted to #and everyone was saying asexual‚ with maybe 4 or 5 aroaces‚ and then when it got to me I said ''aromantic‚ probably asexual'' and they just #all looked at me weird #maybe I imagined that. I'm bad at reading expressions #but cmon. imagine if I'd said aro straight or aro gay or smth #anyway I really do not like how the aspec community as a whole prioritizes asexuality over aromanticism #partially it's likely bc asexual used to mean aroace before the SAM was a thing #but I think its also bc people can imagine going without sex in a relationship (although they may conflate it with celibacy) (and not to say #people treat alloaces well at all lol)#(but the idea of someone eschewing romance entirely‚ whether they (want to) have sex or not‚ is still widely horrifying or confusing or #scary to many people. including other queer people and including asexual people #)#I'd make my tag rant into an actual post if I was sure I could word it right lol #aro #aromantic #aroallo #aroace #non sam aro #o.

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james-spooky · 4 months ago

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this is a test

#i’m bored i just wanna see how many words i can put in the tags like will it just keep going on forever or will they stop me like i know th #the tag limit is 30 ok so the iindividual tag limit is 140 characters that’s actually so rude i wanted to keep going forever and see how lo #g this could be but i guess we can do this 30 times ok what the flip should i talk about hm i was playing the guitar today but i rage quit #ause the song was hard and hurting my fingers! ermmmmm it was sunny ok this is boring let’s think of more exciting things to type hmmm acco #ding to all known laws of aviation- jk i’m not doing the bee movie script but can you imagine i think that would be funny hmmmmm words i lo #e podcasts so bad that’s a fact no one has ever know before my blog definitely isn’t all about audio dramas the people are definitely not a #ready aware of this jesus christ this is only the seventh one of these this is actually quite a lot of space i underestimated how much i ha #e to type btw there’s probably spelling mistakes in here somewhere or autocorrect has been annoying but i cba to retype anything so i don’t #care lolllllllllllll how do you feel about oscar malevolent i feel a normal amount actually (lie) yk what i really miss sam and colin alrea #y like i’m actually not okay i really hope we hear from sam again in s2 and also colin ngl i hope ur in the computers soz or not dead miss #im like a bastard my paranoid it king ok erm im running out of things to say um heartstopper s3 was crazy good i cried lmao i love gay peop #e so much it’s crazy i hope it gets renewed for s4 i need to reread the comics lowkey and the books they’re all so talented for being so yo #ng it scares me ngl !!!!!! the tmagp hiatus is getting to me slightly like february in reality is soon and not that far away for how podcas #ts go but seriously how am i supposed to live until then without knowing what happened. please colin be alive. ive only just realised i can #use fills stops. sorry that’s made everything a bit messy. i should’ve been doing this before. whoops. anyways. hi mutuals i love you all s #much i hope you enjoy my rambles and shitposts cause i enjoy yours very much! never think you’re being annoying i literally don’t care be a #annoying as you want posts as much as you want i am ur biggest fan <3 im getting a bit fatigued from typing like my mind is blank basically #now it’s just turned into a. stream of consciousness but i don’t really have any thoughts to put here idk if we’re halfway ermmmm omg it’s #lmost halloween how crazy is that time is flying by i kinda forgot it was october lmao. it’s wild how it’s basically almost christmas. like #what. that’s illegal. how is it wintertime again. what the flip. i miss summer already take me backkkkkkk. i hope my phone doesn’t crash or #smth cause i’ve not saved this as a draft and i cba to do any of this again. maybe i should save it. ok i will when i reach the next tag bc #ok it stopped me but i’ve saved it and holy jesus it’s a lot of text im just sat here giggling there’s really no point to any of this other #than me being bored sooooooooooooooooo (imagine if i just did the letter o for every character wouldn’t that be crazy) so wait there’s 140 #haracters and 30 tags so what’s 30 x 140. someone hurry. i haven’t done maths lessons in two and a half years i’ve forgotten everything wai #let me get the calculator app ok im back it said 4100 characters so. i dont know how many words that roughly is but its. a decent amount. o #what the flip why am i wasting tag space with maths. i hate maths. my screen time has been actually soooooooooo bad recently like damn some #one put my phone in a block of ice please joshua gillespie style. my mind is running out of things to say. do i talk about myself. im james #im 18 which is weird cause wdym im an adult go away. ive run out of facts. i love podcasts and procedural dramas that stupid firefighter sh #w is my life unfortunately. i think chappell roan should be the queen of england instead of king charles. i dont like having a king cause #ho needs men in power not me. ok um this is the last tag equal rights for all. yolo. the time will pass anyways! thank u boredom ok bye gn:

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lionblaze03-2 · 9 months ago

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sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

#Using randomly gendered words because that’s me now but hey #Regardless of if you were born afab and are a girl 100% or if you were born afab and are someone else #It STILL sucks to always be grouped along with ‘girls’ just because of your voice and realize #You CANT hit that. You can’t hit the mark for ‘girl’. You’ll never achieve that without like. Hrt #Just say THE VOCAL CLASS. Like. Sopranos sing with this. Tenors with this. Bass with this. Etc #Then it doesn’t hurt! But nooo instead they’re looking or ‘sing with the other girls’ and you fucking can’t #And it gives you a crisis at age 14 #Anyway all I know is when other people who were assigned female at birth and aren’t on something they changes ones voice #and just happen to have born with the same deep ass voice as me. It makes me proud to hear them use it #Because not enough people do. It’s like we’re all collectively embarrassed or something #I see so many sad posts from teenagers posting their dream roles and the reason they won’t get it is ‘girl’#and it’s like. I remember being that kid. Never able to get a female lead because of my voice. Never able to get a male lead because of gir #Even though my voice and appearance could easily swing male. Nope! You’re GIRL. So you’re doomed to background forever :)#I got 1 lead role and it was when I was at my most feminine and was also for a villain that was a fat hag #I LOOOOVED playing her im aunt sponge forever. BUT. Never getting one again after that… showed me. Something #More gender blind casting and more songs just written for tenors please #doing just ONE of those things would probably solve the issue #But both please because I’m greedy and I want what I couldn’t have for every kid today #(And also me in the future in adult community theatre. Haven’t had time/too intimidated so far but I WILL go back)#And before anyone questions the language on this post. I STRUGGLED with how to word it #TERFs begone. I love trans people. I am nonbinary and some form of intersex (pcos).#I just word it this way because of like. Where we all start #Whether we stay GIRL girls or realize we’re somewhere in between. It crushes us either way to have the ‘wrong’ voice to do anything #Because it did me at first. And I’m otherwise GLAD to be confusing #I’ve come to love my deep voice it baffles others and they never know what to call me it really helps the whole ‘what am I’ presentation #But. In terms of certain things. Like being in theatre in the deep south #It certainly does not help and can be disheartening #Especially back when I was younger and more self conscious #lion’s lair

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rainingincale · 2 months ago

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#fuck me sorry but that post actually unlocked so many memories for me rn and i simply must get them out lmao #anyways i just wish there was a way i could tell my geography teacher how much of an impact she made on my life #it absolutely shook my world view up when we did our lesson on migration and she asked me what the positives to immigration were #me. a brown girl living in britain her whole life where all she really saw and understood was an inherent hatred for immigrants.#and so i prattled off the textbook answer- they bring people who can do labour and earn more money for the country #and shes like 'and?' and i drew a blank. i couldnt think of anything else. what else were they worthy for?#and she explains. she says music. and food. and culture. and god. im tearing up just thinking about it. like in that single moment she just #fucking changed everything for me. like yeah. yeah ppl do bring that. they make this place everything it is. they bring Life to this place.#i feel like my words are so jumbled lmao idk how else to explain it i am simply soooooooooooooooooo emo like seriously #and it wasnt after i didnt have her as a teacher i was told my one of my friends that she always gives the best student in her class a #a yellow ring binder. the rest get green. guess what one i got. LIKE IM GOING TO CRY AND NEVER STOP. and i didnt know!! i never fucking knew #i literally remember her that day when she was like ah seems im all out @ H could you follow me pls and ill get you answer one from storage #and then she gave me a yellow ring binder like. fuck me man. fuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkk #and i think back so much because she had a scottish sounding second name but she was married. and part of me thinks maybe her parents were #polish? just from context clues. but i dont actually know. and part of me is like am i just romanticising her? i didnt actually know who she #was. all i have is these little moments and how she treated me and the fact i liked her class #and people were so rude about her btw. like thought she was a dickhead. but she wasnt. she actually wasnt she just didnt take ppls shit. :((#and now im remembering that time i didnt do my homework and my friend took my jotter from the pile AS SHE WAS MARKING THEM and brought it #to me so i could copy off her #and ngl i always thought it was funny and sneaky but now im realising she probably fucking knew and didnt say anything because she liked us #god im gonna cry #i hope youre ok out there and i hope youre happy. i hope my idea of you is correct.#*insert spongebob laying on ground meme*#le text post

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dennisboobs · 6 months ago

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i wrote another rambly dennis analysis and deleted it <3 y'all don't need that

#ada speaks #this happens every time im on my period like fucking clockwork there's something wrong with me #dennis' essence is contained in the ovaries #it was some shit about how he's not actually the cis male power fantasy so many idiot dudebros think he is #and that he's like. ok listen. this will sound insane and probably piss Someone off but.#dennis is like. the worst and most repressed aspects of a female power fantasy #which. the way glenn treats him is.#basically that #yes his character is inextricably linked to misogyny and male privilege but #it's almost like its coming from a perspective that lacks that and he's somewhat of a hypothetical and very opposite exploration #does this make sense #anyway i dont think i can explain this 👍 but i think he's somewhat of a guilty pleasure to write because of this #all sunny characters are sort of meant to be the Worst parts of humanity that you want to Exorcize as glenn puts it #but dennis feels so.#i don't know.#guy who fears loss of power & fights for it not bc he's aiming for the top but bc he is so afraid of being at the bottom ever again #partiarchy and all. you know.#his privilege (primarily in terms of wealth but also his gender) has been just as much of a curse as it has become a weapon #his parents' neglect & their wealth allowing them to throw money at maids lead to him being taken advantage of by an older woman at school #the view of the abuse and it being recontextualized and forced into a positive that shaped the rest of his life because men can't be raped #but i can't explain the. Thing behind this that feels so #pardon the binary #womancoded.#he's like a love interest in a pulpy romance novel written #and i think its partially because he tries to emulate that and its why he is somewhat successful with women #but i don't think it's because he's catering to them i think he's just. oddly a character that comes across like Women Writing Men #i will Not be commenting on what this says about glenn--#cw csa mention #i cant believe i deleted a post and then wrote a rant in the tags about the deleted post this is my curse #the other one was worded better too 👍

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ponzu · 2 years ago

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i keep buying things thru my proxy to keep in the warehouse until m ready to ship and i keep thinking Wow they probably think this is annoying asf but also im giving them money so

#Speaketh #they probably still think so #how many times can i say the word keep in one post challenge

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coridallasmultipass · 1 year ago

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If it's okay for me to add something related because I first saw this on Tumblr: In the mid-2010s, I heard about there being a gay Filipino deity romance (from one culture in the Philippines - there are many different cultures and beliefs) here on Tumblr. It wasn't until years later when researching Philippine deities for fun while trying to broadly connect with my culture that I found a deep dive where someone found that the Bulan and Sidapa love story originated from the same fictional blog source, and had been circulating from new sources and fan art claiming it was historical for years before the author tried to find a non-modern historical source for the rumour, creating a kind of Berenstain/Berenstein effect on the people he asked, claiming they'd heard about the love story from a forgotten source much earlier than the 2010s, but unable to give a specific name, or the source cited claimed they didn't actually know about the romance.

While I think in this instance, a shift in narrative is obviously okay when you consider it is still a living Filipino culture, and people from that clearly find identity with this modern take (which should be asked of people from the cultures directly affected by misinfo), it should also be important not to rewrite it as 'historical fact' particularly when it has a fictional modern source that someone can directly point to as the origin when they question and search down the telephone line (like the game).

(I use the word 'fictional' only in reference to the originating blog, because the blog was unable or unwilling to provide any sources that mentioned that relationship to the deep dive author. I'm not implying said gods can't be/aren't gay. I'm not from that specific Philippine culture, and I don't have enough background knowledge to make any claims of my own. There's also no like, singular religious text/'bible' that pre-Hispanic Philippine beliefs followed as a rule/that can be consulted about this - it's not like a translation debate. There's just no textual source pre-dating the blog making the claim of the romance, and historians/oral historians aren't making the claim either.)

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

#sorry if i get something wrong im trying to refresh my memory as i write this #also just a cool fun fact theres a nonbinary tagalog deity that IS documented in historical texts #which was cool to find out back when i was looking all this up the first time and again just now #i promise im not biased for being tagalog it was just literally recommended reading on the same article #should also state that im also american in america and dont subscribe to belief in philippine deities (as a disclaimer)#but its still super cool to find out how socially accepting the philippines can be about lgbt issues compared with other asian countries #(even if they still face discrimination! obviously should go without saying but someones gonna twist my words i just know it)#(im reminded of the other spanish-us colony... the us. where i live as a native american also. whos tribe Chumash also had/has Two Spirit..#...historically documented in our culture. ill also never know if we had gay love stories b4 the spanish bc we were only oral tradition)#anyway thats a tangent on a tangent on a disclaimer on a tag on an anxiety filled addition to a post #anxiety bc im probably getting something wrong somewhere just know that i am always pro-gay everything all the time forever #i just wanted to add how this disappointed me when i found out the gay was not historical like i originally was made 2 believe #im in full support of modern gay #how mnay times am i gonna say that lmao (how many tags do i have left to be anxious in)#listen one time i got put on a blocklist next to actual transphobes whod hate me and im still anxious every time i post anything online now #(it was over something i said when i was first discovering my gender abt how sex and gender 'are' different and it wasnt worded the best)#and because i was pro-asexual inclusion in lgbt then exclus went and dug up that very obviously old post from my blog to have 'dirt' on me #i fucking hate ace exclusionists lmao dni with me about that topic its been like 8 years stale by now #anyway...#misinformation #disinformation #history #long post #i know theres some drama idk about the article author but i dont want to bring that into this so i didnt name the article #...but its on the aswang project if youre gonna look it up #i want to get books on philippine legends but i dont have the money and theyre not in my library so .. eventually ill read the more...#...scholarly sources on the subject but for now i only have whats online and that site has been a good jumping point imo #ok ive had this reblog open for hours now lemme just post and if someone who knows more can correct me go ahead just pls b nice i rly tried #im tired and i want to get back to my drawing i didnt wanna spend hours beng anxious abt this bc i randomly saw it while break scrolling

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