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gogogodzilla · 7 months

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day 13, mommy kink

wanda maximoff x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, cunnilingus, wanda calls reader sweet girl, slight dub-con, vision doesn't exist kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

Wanda had this innate ability to invade your ever-waking thoughts. You supposed it was partly due to her powers. She gave you a taste of what she was capable of when she was aligned with Ultron, and she effortlessly invaded your mind. However, since then she has been on your mind for a very different reason.

You flit around your shared house, straightening the Halloween decorations as you pass. You halt in front of the full-length mirror in the hall. You were clad in a tight, black catsuit that hugged every curve of your figure and a belt with a red hourglass on the buckle. You zip up the bodysuit to your neck. It’s a family-friendly holiday, after all.

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out what your costume is referencing, and you wrack your brain as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You’re broken out of your thoughts by Billy and Tommy walking into the living room and staring at Pietro’s snoring form on the couch.

Quicker than you could register, Pietro jumps up from the couch and in front of the boys, scaring them. He begins to chase the still-screaming twins around the living room and you watch with amusement.

“Oh! Somebody better be bleeding, broken, or on fire,” your wife calls as she descends the stairs. You rush to greet her, and your breath catches in your throat, astonished at your wife’s appearance.

“Whoa, Mom!” Billy exclaims, echoing your thoughts. He tilts his head to the side, “Are you Old Red Riding Hood?”

She spreads her arms wide, “I’m a Sokovian Fortune Teller.”

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur as your wife reaches the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes soften as she looks at you, and she cups your chin affectionately.

“What’re you supposed to be?” Tommy questions, taking in your appearance.

You shrug, “Actually, I’m not quite sure. It feels right though.”

Tommy goes to compliment his mom’s costume but quickly changes his mind once Pietro voices his opinion. A moment passes and Wanda looks startled. Billy goes on to talk to someone unseen. You furrow your brows.

You blink rapidly and next thing you know Pietro and the kids are furiously playing video games on the living room couch, candy wrappers strewn about.

Wanda laces her arm through yours, “Looks like they’ve already sampled the product.”

You look up at her, a smile tugging on your lips, “You haven’t told me much about your brother. I didn’t think he’d be so…”

Pietro hops up and shows the boys how to shotgun a soda.

You grimace, “... Good with kids.”

An idea struck you, and you tug Wanda closer to whisper so the kids won’t hear. “How about we let him watch the kids for the night? We could finally get some alone time. It feels like we’ve had an audience for the past few days.”

She straightens at your suggestion, but before she can object, Pietro butts in.

“Great idea! Uncle P can watch the kiddos tonight.”

Wanda’s gaze jumps between the two of you. “That’s not what you’re—“ she pauses for a moment to correct herself, “It’s their first Halloween, darling. We wouldn’t want to miss it.”

You take her gloved hands in yours, “We won’t miss all of it. Besides, I have some decorations that still need to be put up before the trick-or-treaters get here.”

“Problem solved,” Pietro hums as he slaps you on the back.

You’re thrust into Wanda’s arms, almost as if an invisible force pulled your feet out from under you. She catches you, eyes wide.

“Guess I fell for you once again,” you grin as you press a kiss to her cheek. You hear a distant ‘awww’ and tilt your head.

Wanda pulls you up, her hands lingering on your hips. “Where’d you say those Halloween decorations were again?”

You aren’t quite sure how you got to the bedroom. One minute you’re in the living room and the next thing you know you’re in your shared bedroom. Wanda shuts the door behind her and approaches you. You don’t turn to face her, your mind scrambling to fill in the blank periods of time.

She wraps her arms around you, and litters kisses in the crook of your neck. Instinctively you tilt your head, granting her further access.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, hun. No one can see us in here,” she whispers against your neck. Her hands are roaming your body and you can’t think straight.

Your heart is palpating so rapidly that you think it may beat out of your chest as she reaches for the zipper of your costume. Her breath is tickling the back of your neck, and her free hand is meandering dangerously close to where you desperately need her.

She gradually tugs the zipper of your costume down, and you let out a gasp as she slides a gloved hand into your bodysuit to cup your breast. She rolls your nipple between two of her fingers and you arch against her.

“You want mommy to touch you, sweet girl?” she rasps against your ear as her free hand moves to drag a finger over your hip bone.

Your hips jut forward, begging for her touch. “Yes, mommy. Please, please touch me.”

Wanda gives a satisfied hum and pulls her hands away. Your whine is cut short by Wanda pulling your suit down over your shoulders. You hastily pull your arms out of the sleeves and undo the belt around your waist allowing it to fall to the floor. She tantalizingly rakes her hands down your body and hooks a finger on either side of the waistband of your suit.

In one swift motion, your suit and underwear hit the floor. Your nipples perk up against the cool air of your bedroom.

“Let mommy see you,” Wanda purrs, taking a step away from you.

You turn, shyly. Wanda’s face lights up as she takes in your naked form. She steps forward and cups your face with one hand. Your lips meet in a featherlight kiss and you smile against her ruby red lips. She smoothes a hand over your ass and squeezes and you gasp.

She pulls away, nearly as breathless as you. “Get on the bed, baby,” she orders, voice gentle. You obediently climb onto the plush mattresses and lay on your back, spreading your legs.

A light moan leaves her, seeing your legs spread and waiting just for her. She saunters over and holds out a hand to you, “Put that pretty mouth to use,” she commands, eyes flicking to her glove.

You sit up, eagerly. You take the tip of her middle finger in your mouth, gently raking your teeth over each knuckle as you pull away. Your teeth latch onto the tip of her glove, and you tug it off of her. Wanda takes her glove from between your teeth and pushes two fingers passed your lips. You run your tongue over the pads of her fingers, sucking lightly. You want to be good for her.

Her other hand grazes over your cheek, and she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. She pulls her fingers out of your mouth and nudges you back onto the mattress. Her fingertips dance over your thighs as she situates herself between your thighs.

“So good for me,” she praises before swiping a finger through your now-dripping folds. You arch against the mattress, and your hands grip the sheets.

She hooks her arms around your thighs and kneels in front of you, her face inches away from your heat. “Such a pretty pussy,” she coos, pressing kisses along your inner thighs. Your hips buck as her breath fans against your core, and she keeps you in place.

“Please, mommy,” you begged, tears nearly forming. She tsked, nuzzling against your thigh and breathing in your scent.

She finally latches her plump lips onto your core. She swipes her tongue against you, moaning at the taste. Her grip on your thighs as she desperately pulls you closer. Her tongue works relentlessly against you as she laps up all of you. Breathy moans and pleas escaped your lipstick-stained lips. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. You just wanted her.

Her nose bounces against your clit as you jut your hips against her mouth. She sinfully presses a finger inside you. She pumps it a few times before adding another one. Her pace is tortuous, and you throw your head against the mattress.

She circles her tongue around your clit as her pace increases, curling her fingers inside you. She slides her hand onto your stomach and you grip it, holding onto her like your life depends on it.

“Feels so good, mommy,” you whine as look down at her. All you can see is her hair spread out across your thighs and her one gloved hand clutching your own. Wanda moans at the pet name and she ruts her fingers inside you.

A high-pitched whine leaves you as your orgasm rips through you. Your thighs go to close around Wanda’s head but scarlet tendrils keep you in place. You clench around her fingers, and static rings in your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut and a vision flashes beneath your lids.

You’re standing on a battlefield. The sun is blazing above you and you’re locked in battle with a monstrous creature. Gigantic wheels tore up the ground and anything in their way as they sped toward you. You finally land a killing blow to the creature, but you don’t have enough time to run. You crouch down, praying to whatever deity that you’ll survive this. The hurtling of the blade stops and you breathe out a sigh of relief as Wanda lands on the battlefield. Scarlet pulses of magic lift up the wheels and Wanda hurls them at a line of incoming enemies.

You straightened and beamed, pointing at Wanda. “That’s my wife!”

You blink rapidly, as Wanda rubs a soothing hand over your thigh, bringing you back to reality. You attempt to steady your breathing.

Your release pools over her fingers as she pulls out of you. She brings them to your lips, making you taste yourself. Your arousal covers the lower half of her face, and your cheeks heat up the sight.

“You did so good for me, sweet thing,” she says as she runs a hand over your hair and cups your cheek. You press a kiss to her palm.

She waves a hand, bringing the two of you a towel from the bathroom. You lean on your elbows as she cleans you up, a warm, gooey feeling filling your chest. She levitates the towel to the hamper and kisses your cheek softly.

“Is this real?” you sigh dreamily as she pulls away. Doubt dances in the back of your mind as your vision gnaws at you.

She freezes above you, eyes scanning your face for something. She stands and moves to grab your clothes off the floor.

“It’s as real as you want it to be,” she answers as she returns to your side, a soft look dancing across her features.

You remain puzzled as Wanda helps you dress. If she saw your vision, she hasn’t said anything. The thought unsettles you. Where were you and who were those people you were with? Why were you fighting? And with that the static returns and you screw your eyes shut.

You blink furiously and the next thing you know, you’re walking through the neighborhood hand in hand with Wanda. Pietro and the boys are running and collecting as much candy as they can. A calmness settles over you. Maybe you were right where you were supposed to be.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda marvel #scarlet witch #marvel #no y/n #reader insert #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #wanda maximoff smut #mommy wanda #marvel cinematic universe

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sleepboysummer · 1 year

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some different janes and my hcs for them

ok i said i would so i AM (in these am talking abt the character not the actor, pls note that not all of these actors use she/her)

alliance jane

incredibly tall

walks completely silently, jumpscares everybody

wake up at 5 in the morning to see her standing completely still looking out the window

citadel jane

bites

5'1 at most

sits on tall chairs just so she can kick her feet

looks like a little angel but commits the most insane acts of violence all with a :o face like she doesnt know she did it

mcc*rter jane

enjoyed sabm a little too much...

gifts people stones that remind her of them

has broken someones fingers by holding hands too tightly

shoves crayons in her mouth 10 at a time

4 chairs jane

picks up every animal she finds and kisses them on the head. does not cares if they have rabies

wears long skirts a lot so she can twirl aroudn in them

smile is so big it is almost scary

only eats sweets

jungle theatre jane

giggles at horror movies

eats paper (lovingly)

probably could fall out of a plane and be fine

roxy's downtown jane

also freakishly tall

chews on everything

has to be explained in intense detail why ____(insert basic knowledge such as running in front of moving cars) is bad for you. does it again immediately after

spinning tree jane

always hugging somebody

learned how to bake so she could give her friends goodies

(was probably found in the wreckage of the burned down building holding a plate of perfectly decorated cookies and smiling)

some theatre company jane

has never gone to sleep once

would crawl out from under your bed

never knows whats going on, gets dragged around to different places/events and just goes along with it

magic valley repertory jane

wears red gingham more than any other style of clothing

can fall asleep on any surface no matter how small it is. turn the corner and there she is, curled up on a barstool like a cat

would punch someone for 1dollar and very sweet about it

imagine productions of columbus jane

resting frown face... im thinking florence pugh-esque frown..

idk shes very academia to me i hope im using that word right

collects paintings she finds at antique shops and hangs them all over her room. everyone is terrified when they go in

ofc theatre jane

eats literally everything she finds. she is becoming a danger (think that one son monologue from trail to oregon)

probably doesnt know how to read

could stand completely still watching a fish tank for HOURS

#jane doe rtc #jane doe #ride the cyclone #rtc #ride the cyclone jane #musical #musical theatre #idc if this gets any reach i need this more for myself than u guys do #rtcrot

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roguelemon · 2 months

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This was meant to be a short little joke style theory but it turned into a character analysis so the before cut is the main interesting point and the rest you can read if you want my take on Vox as a whole, and what I personally would do with him nest season.

The reason why Vox hates the past so much is because he has so many regrets/ kind of hates himself for getting into the situation he's in where every waking moment is either dealing with his public image, dealing with Vals tantrum/manipulative bs (Yes I think Vox is being manipulated by Val I believe in the "Val can secrete a date r*pe drug type substance in his saliva") OR endlessly trying to make power grabs to "prove himself". The other overlords DO NOT like this man, I reckon that upsets him more than he lets on (my theory as to why he sent Velvett to that meeting instead) .

Vox focuses on "upgrading" because facing his past and where he fucked up is his literal worst nightmare. It just so happens that part of his past that he regrets (Alastor, whether you think it was a failed romantic proposal or not it CLEARLY had a big affect) is somebody who embodies the past.

He moves away from past technology to move away from Alastor. He constantly upgrades himself/ his products because looking into his past is not something he wants to do.

Of course, that only worked for 7 years, now Al is back he's FORCED to face at least some of where he fucked up which is why when we see him, despite being an overlord, he looks incredibly pathetic. It's not that his power level is so much below Alastor, (though that could be a factor) but he's facing his worst nightmare every time the deer fucker shows up.

Alastor pisses him off sure, but what really gets him so twitchy and almost paranoid is what Alastor represents, his past.

This isnt trying to defend Vox or whatever but I do think that he's the least objectively evil out of the Vees. To me he's a "doesn't want to be evil he just wants recognition and oops, now you've got it through bad means" kind of guy who's been teamed up with a sleezy manipulative asshole who doesn't seem to have any motivation other than just enjoying being a creep. And Velvette, who while we haven't seen anything super bad yet, she clearly endorses Val (the love potion advert) and is also more abrasive than Vox.

Its even more so shown in the finale when Vox is super exited about something (it's Alastor dying, but still) and the other two are just completely uninterested until it benefits them.

I've seen some people saying that Vox and Val are the main and Velvette is the one that's off to the side out of the three but despite doing, whatever you want to call THAT in the finale with Val, Vox is more obviously the one who doesn't line up with the other two as well.

Vox probably wished he'd pursued a deal with Alastor rather than the Vees because then he'd get what he wants, to be recognised and respected. Even though Al does mostly command through fear there is respect for him among those who are more powerful than him, all save Lucifer of course. Vox on the other hand has basically no respect from anyone who he doesn't mind control, Velvette treats him like Val control and Val is CLEARLY using similar tactics that he would on one of his 'employees' on Vox. (Acting super whiny/ guilt to get what he wants, pushing his buttons to get a reaction after his initial outburst didn't piss Vox off enough, THE RED SALIVA). While the annoyance between the three seems to be just petty bullshit I'm certain that, at least on a subconscious level that Vox knows that if he hadn't got in with them that he'd be better off. VoxTech certainly seems the most lucrative out of what the three control. And the other two wouldn't exist if it warned for the tech HE supplies. (Vox is the real backbone of the Vees). This man clearly SO DESPERATELY wants attention and to be adored. Rather than hating him like I do with Val, it makes me pity him. And THATS the centre of all this, he is pitiful and so has MORE room for character development.

Its fully possible that he blames himself for fucking up whatever proposition he had for Alastor when in reality, Al is just an ass but Vox can't see that

Of course this is just my interpretation, but it'd make S2 where the Vees are confirmed to be a bigger focus much more interesting if Vox also gets this internal dilemma/ self doubt.

They could still feasibly swing in either direction of characyer development and I'd consider it well written and thats what makes him so interesting to me. He has so much potential for both good and for evil, also for general annoyance and comedy.

If it were up to me I'd do the megamind route of FINALLY letting the character win against their enemy, only to end up pissed off about it because the person they pinned all their problems on wasn't actually the cause of them, then swing in a completely different direction because this is hell and the feel good stories are reserved for characters who believe in therapy. Maybe a song where Vox prevails, only to then later reprise in a version where he loses his sense of self a little, maybe finally realises how little the other two care after he finally bests Alastor in something but it doesn't matter because he "didn't get any new territory or souls" or something along those lines. A second song could be Vox actually coming into his own more with a song all about him, nobody singing over or with him. It doesn't even have to redeem his character it would just be singling him out as Vox, not one of the Vees.

This ramble was brought to you by the powers of procrastination. Congrats on actually reading all that shit. (And lmk if you'd add anything in your opinion?) =3.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel character analysis #hazbin hotel vox #give me a villain that can be redeemed in the show about redemption PLEASE #but also give be assholes who even when offered redemption would rather choose evil #give me that VoxVal parallel PLEASE #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel thoughts

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beanghostprincess · 7 months

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What are your thoughts on lusopp? (Luffy x Usopp)

i just woke up so if my words are all over the place that's probably why! being productive right here! waking up early! somebody shoot me! fighting the urge to go back to sleep so i can reply to your silly lil awesome questions! i need a coffee.

AND!!! I REALLY LIKE THE SHIP!!! (just saw you're on impel down so i won't spoil anything!)

i mean, it's not my favorite ship and i'm not crazy about it like, idk, my fiancé is crazy about them (but again, she's crazy about zosan and lawlu and i'm not so we have to deal with each other's bullshit all the time). but i find their relationship really, really interesting and complex and cool to explore. i was just writing a fic about them being besties and super clingy, gonna cry. baby boys.

i personally see them more as just best friends, but hey! if there are cute fanarts and content i'm not going to scroll away!! it's a good and cute ship!!! they're bffs almost instantly and usopp's intelligence really disappears when he's with luffy which is, not only hilarious but extremely refreshing to see. let the anxious boy be dumb and reckless!! they're so chaotic!!

not to mention that it's not only their dynamic that makes them good, but the whole water 7/enies lobby thing. i fear that if i talk about this much i might start sobbing. but, like,,, their fight is the first time we see luffy actively cry on screen. we see luffy losing control of his crew, something he used to have control over. we see luffy lost and act impulsively and not knowing what to do because his best friend and sniper is about to go away and his heart fucking breaks into a million little pieces. because luffy sees usopp's potential and he wants him with the crew, but he can't do anything to help if usopp doesn't believe in himself. and also, the merry, which is another thing luffy loses control over and has to act like a logical captain about it but we all know it's heartbreaking for him too. and then there's usopp, who feels inferior and not worthy of being part of this amazing crew. even though he has shown over and over again to be part of this little family. he just feels like he doesn't belong here. and, you know, he says he's angry because of the merry but we all know the fight isn't about that.

so, we all agree that water 7 is very very peak lusopp (and sanuso, but tbf it's just peak usopp in general because he has great scenes with everyone. especially the monster trio, shout out to my boy zoro), and then enies lobby is when they make up and it's beautiful and heartbreaking and the way usopp yells at luffy to stand up and fight makes me want to curl up on the floor and sob for ages and ages and ag-

and i would go into detail about luffy's character but i don't want to spoil anything, so let's just focus on usopp here:

lusopp's dynamic works well both as a friendship and as a ship, mainly because they're both on the same page when it comes to silly shenanigans. we see them actively enjoying being with each other and doing stupid things together and that's just,,, so sweet. but also, usopp is one of those people that have to ground luffy sometimes and tell him "fuck, no. haha. we're so not doing that" because despite acting silly, he's pretty much more logical and rational than luffy is. but, you know, the reason he's like that most of the time is because he's scared of fucking dying (which i understand. i'd be scared too in that crew. i'm glad nami is always agreeing with him with these things), and he has to be the one to stop luffy (try to, at least. never really works) from doing extremely dangerous things. which is both hilarious and actually pretty cute to watch because it shows us how well usopp knows luffy. it's obvious that they're best friends. dude knows what luffy is going to do minutes before luffy even thinks about doing it. and luffy really, really admires and loves usopp's abilities and strengths and brains. all the things usopp is insecure about? luffy loves them!!!

and, you know, it's a good ship because they have that sort of bff energy, but if you make it romantic and angsty and more intimate? that's just better! i feel like their ship is just- those friendships that turn into romantic relationships but their dynamic doesn't really change at the end of the day? and i find that really endearing.

luffy makes usopp see the best in himself and makes him want to improve as a pirate to follow his dream and feel like he belongs in the crew. usopp makes luffy be a bit more grounded to reality whenever he needs to, and he was the first one to make luffy realize that, well, fuck, he's the captain of a ship and he needs to be responsible and make harsh decisions.

but now that they're together again, luffy is sooo not going to let him go ever again. and usopp will never try to do so because he just wants to keep fighting for him!!!

it's such an endearing and funny and angsty ship. i think i just don't really ship them much because i'm more of a sanuso/zolu kind of person. but at this point just make it poly and everybody is happy (except nami bc she has to deal with the 4 of them being in love and that would be extremely tiring. somebody bring back vivi for her PLEASE).

but yeah, cute ship. not my favorite but awesome to explore and tbh one of my favorite friendships in this show. very underrated but that's just bc usopp is underrated af and it makes my blood boil with anger and the fury of hell itself. that's for another day, though!

#they're very cutie patootie #these boys can fit so much trauma inside of them #but they're such great friends #i honestly think lusopp shippers are in a whole other level dude #sanuso and lusopp shippers should unite bc our arcs are water 7/enies lobby and we have in common that we love usopp a lot #lusopp #monkey d luffy #usopp #one piece

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s4kasaki · 2 years

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I LOVED YOUR DOMESTIC FLUFF POST FROM BEFORE uhm-uh could i request natsume and arashi one ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

^—^ thank you anon !! & here ya go

♡ — natsume & arashi | domestic fluff

‣ tw/cws: none

‣ reader: gender netural - they/them

‣ authors note: hai guys, it's been ages since I actually posted help...

☆ — ARASHI.

now let me tell you, shopping sprees. 100%, Arashi is all about taking you out to go shopping. It's quite literally you and her thing. Sometimes Leo questions why she's always leaving practice as soon as it's over, is Arashi picking somebody over her unit? (he does eventually learn that it's you for the reason she leaves so soon)

she usually buys you new shampoo, conditioner, and other self-care products when she notices you’re running out or just cause she thinks you'll like the smell (because she also likes the smell) before you even know the bottle’s empty, she already bought new ones for you~★ not to mention she also buys toothpaste and floss when they’re on sale. Arashi pays close attention to all the makeup and skin-care products you buy. if they leave bad results.... she’ll make a mental note to not buy that brand again! (￣￣|||)

Arashi usually insists on you coming with her when going abroad but sometimes Arashi has to go without you cause business is on the line of course! and you're most definitely aware-- and usually can accept her missing presence. but that doesn't stop the fact that Arashi feels a little bad if you're left behind for long on her trips! especially if you happen to be clingier than usual when she returns. If that happens she always makes sure to fit you into her next flight so you don't get too lonely

speaking of you two when she's away: phone calls and facetime are frequent! even if she's somewhere where the time zones are different & she ends up calling you at 3 in the morning- she's still calling!

all in to listen to you ramble about things and your day, as she finds it very adorable in a way how passionate you are when you speak on things you like... does prefer to be actively involved in conversations though! so do try to conversate with her too!

Arashi usually wakes up before you do but she won’t get out of bed right away (unless truly necessary), instead she will stay in bed with you and watch you while you’re peacefully sleeping ( ꈍᴗꈍ) her lips curled into a highly smile from just how adorable you are, cupping your cheek before letting out a giggle. “Good morning, my love~” she whispers as you start to wake up and finally lift your body from the bed before pressing a little kiss to your forehead~. She loves lying in bed with you in the morning, peppering your face in small kisses, and snuggling up close to you with no intentions of letting you go either! It's a blessing almost, when she gets to do these things- since she's mostly occupied with work and Knights and when she returns from a long day of working, modeling.. performing.. you’re already knocked out like a bear, so she adores the hours in the morning she can spend some time alone with you, even going as far to risk some of her time on just staying in bed with you :heart:

☆ — NATSUME.

This dude takes an unhealthy amount of nighters, either have it be cause he's in his room in the underground archives or because he's playing video games like overwatch in the house you two share together— so you might wake up at midnight seeing this dude's back in your face & you have to force this idiot into going to bed (ノ_<。)ヾ(´ — ` )

You know it's mentioned he has a cat, or multiple cats… at his parent's house? Well, once he invited you over in hopes for you to meet his parents, and his parents and the kitties seemed to like you. Which to him was quite a surprise since his cats are similar to him, and not very quick to open up. Smelling on you and nuzzling your legs as soon as you came around them "(^._.^)ﾉ meow"

Natsume has a habit of waking up early despite being the horrible night owl he is, he's usually out of bed by the time you open your eyes to make breakfast or shower, the only indication he was still there is his phone's bright light. But sometimes, he just can't resist waking you up with him, the way your cheek was smooshed against the pillows o((*^▽^*))o eyes closed as you clutched onto the blankets, a leg strewn on top of his. His gaze rests on you, softly taking in the scenery, him unable to resist leaning down to press a light kiss to your cheek, pulling back just to press another one, soon enough peppering your entire face with kisses, feeling you stir underneath him, groggily rubbing your eyes “Natsu— what time is it” you mumble, struggling to push him off you “7:24, so go baCK to sleep”

“But you're the one who woke me up?....” and you can feel him snicker on top of you as he moves to pull himself off of you, only to be stopped when he feels your hand loop around his wrist, pulling him back “You woke me up so you gotta stay” you murmur, pulling the blankets aside to make room for him to lay back on you and much to your satisfaction, he doesn’t resist.

Contrary to popular belief! He likes to go on dates with his partner in the public eye, dare I say he also likes the thrill of getting seen with you by fans so they ask him a bunch of questions and he gets a reason to lovemail you. Knowing that you might be incredibly happy if that were to happen, or maybe embarassed... Knowing that those words of love he said will sooner or later he heard by thousands of his fans. ♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱ and probably even some back at ensquare, you might get a nose full from some curious teasing oddballs (wataru and rei especially)

He has some sort of nickname for you, the "kitten" nickname stays forever though even though it makes you screech sometimes— and he's aware of the effect it has on you (if it's negative, then he's planning on calling you kitten way more than he did when you two first met just cause he finds It, If not... a little humourous)

#꒰ 🌸;; hcs ̖́-#enstars #ensemble stars x reader #natsume sakasaki x reader #natsume sakasaki #arashi narukami x reader #arashi narukami #ensemble stars imagines #enstars imagine #enstars x reader

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snow-143 · 8 months

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Water Coloured Tears | Jeon Jungkook

four- don’t waste my time (1.2k words)

Caffeine. What I need is caffeine, a lot of it, I decide. Maybe a pint of ice cream too.

I woke up at 9am. I'm not sure why, I never wake up early unless I absolutely have to, but when I took a look at my phone the call had not long ended.

I wish I could say that I've been productive in the past four and a half hours but that would simply not be true. I've been pacing around my apartment, more than likely disturbing my roommate.

More than likely is an understatement, I definitely disturbed him, he made that obvious when he came storming out of his room to throw a pillow at my head. I suppose I owe him a thanks considering that the well aimed pillow is what made me finally leave the apartment.

Which brings me back to my first point, I need caffeine, it's all I can bring myself to think about on my way to the café. Favouring the thought of the bitter liquid rather than the anxiety filling my chest.

At least with me getting there early I'll have time to mentally prepare myself. That's what I was hoping anyway. I even brought a book, hoping I'd have time to read a bit to distract myself, but no. Fate clearly had plans to give me a heart attack instead.

One might think I'm being dramatic, which I'll admit I do tend to get lost in my emotions a bit. However, I'm not being dramatic when I say my heart stopped. Will I ever get use to seeing his stupid face again?

Sighing I make my way over to him, not before sending a longing glace over to the counter.

When I finally reach him he's staring directly at me, looking like a deer in headlights. You'd think that I had forced him here by the way he's peering up at me.

'Quit looking at me like I'm holding you for ransom,' One thing about me is that I am not a morning person in the slightest, I may have been up for hours now, and maybe it's not even morning anymore but from the very little sleeping I had I would die to go back to bed right now. So in my eyes it is definitely still morning and I am in no mood to be looked at like I'm forcing my presence on somebody.

'Sorry,' his voice is small, timid. Although, I'm glad he's shifted his gaze from me I can't help but feel guilty at my harsh tone.

Deciding to distract myself, and him, I move the conversation onto the project instead, 'So, are you wanting to start taking photos today or just go over what we want the over all project to look like?'

And there's that look again, that's when I realise he's brought nothing with him. Not the camera, his laptop and not even a note book or sketch book. 'Jungkook, please tell me you havent dragged me here just to waste my time.'

'I havent dragged you here just to waste your time?' His expression is far to sheepish for me to even entertain the idea that he might be telling the truth.

'Enlighten me then, what was your plan when you invited me here?'

When no reply comes I stand up to leave, 'Message me when you're actually ready to work on this project, until then don't waste my time again.'

At least I'll save money on the extortionate prices of coffee on campus.

'Hey, wait a minute.' Without me even realising he's spun me around to face him again, holding my wrist much like he did after we got paired together. 'We can at least go over what we want the project to look like while were here.'

Sighing, I meet his eyes, actually meet his eyes instead of avoiding them like I have been, 'Only if you pay for my coffee, Jeon.' At this he smiles.

'You and your caffeine addiction.' It's said as a mutter. As an inside joke. A joke we used to share.

Without even waiting for a reply from me he's already making his way to the counter. I amuse myself with the thought of what he's going to order me, the picture of him trying to find something to order for me is a funny one. I just hope he picks something I'll actually enjoy.

Before I know it he's setting a drink in front of me and taking his seat opposite to me.

Looking at my drink my smile vanishes. He got my exact order. My completely bazar order that everyone questions me on. Even my favourite cookie to go with it.

My smile is back, a sad one now. Sitting here with him now feels far to familiar to when we went to visit colleges together.

I would always insist on visiting the cafes, and well he would amuse my request. I would insist that I couldn't go to a college that didn't have good coffee.

Now that I think about it we came to this café back then, sat at the table just left to us. Now it's occupied by a couple, giggling over a shared slice of cake.

I wonder if that's what we looked like back then. Wonder if there was someone in a situation similar to mine now looking at us with resentment at our happiness. I know that that's what I'm feeling right now at least. And I know that It's petty of me.

'So, I'm sure you've already got plenty of ideas for this project. What are your thoughts?' His words snap me out of my trans, bringing me back to the current situation.

He's right, I've already got so many ideas.

My favourite being that we make pieces that seem loving but you can change them to look heart broken, but also some show loving pieces mixed with the dark side of love. It'll show both sides of being in love, the ups and the downs.

I also want us to work on one of the pieces together. To show that a relationship is a partnership. Although, a massive part of me is against this as it'll mean more time spent with Jungkook, I'm willing to suck it up for the symbolism.

The rest of the time is spent with me telling him my ideas and him adding onto them. He didn’t fully understand what I meant at first but when I gave some examples me caught on pretty quickly.

I try to ignore his smile when I reveal that I've already gathered some reference pictures so we can be on the same page for the project.

As our professor said, they need to be cohesive and I'm not taking any chances on messing this project up. Even if that means I'll have to work closely with Jungkook.

'See, I knew you'd already have this all planned out. You don't even need me at this rate.' God did I wish I didn't need him to pass this assignment.

prev | m.list | next

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a/n: ik the art project doesn’t make a lot of sense rn but it’ll be more clear on what she’s planning when they actually start

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nicolos · 2 years

Text

fossil

They make it to their destination slowly.

Very slowly.

Part of the problem is that she's travelling with the slowest people she's ever met. Every single one of them is content with taking weeks to get from one place to the other, because they all remember a time it always did. It's a feeling she remembers from when she was younger and her dad was away and her mom couldn't quite handle two kids at home while she wasn't, and Nile and Cass would be sent to Grandma's. Grandma Freeman was actually her dad's grandma, and she was the oldest woman Nile had ever met—old enough to give Andy a run for her money, she'd say—and Nile had spent all her summers there bewildered by how content she was to sit down and knit and wait for the water to boil.

Travelling with Andy, Nicky and Joe is a little bit like that experience of standing at the stove waiting for the water to boil while her great-grandmother keeps the flame on low and gives her words about patience.

Except it's not that she's bored. It's that she's on edge.

"Nile," Joe says, the third time she asks about where they're going and why they're going so slowly. "I don't blame you for the fact that your world is extremely fast-paced, but that is a product of a very recent period of time, and neither natural nor healthy."

To which: Nile would like to call bullshit. Her introduction to the immortal lifestyle having been one solid weekend of unadulterated fuckery. You cannot give her a whole weekend of Kill Bill but shittier, and then say "actually, we spend most of our time doing 5000-piece jigsaw puzzles." She saw somebody else's insides and watched her own bones heal before her eyes and didn't even realise how fucked that was until (much) later because of the immediacy and breakneck pace of it all—a pace that left her, or any of them, no time or space for thinking or questioning. All she did that day was act.

Now there's no acting at all. She'd like to see the merit of that, but mostly it puts her on edge.

Too much time to think, she thinks, might help them with their thousands of years of figuring out what to do with themselves, but it just leaves her upset.

Even then.

They make it, eventually, to where they're going. It's not a particularly special day. They're in the forest somewhere east of the Black Sea, trees and dirt stretching out around them broken up only by the occasional village. She's woken up by Joe and Nicky arguing about the quality of different animal milk when used in cheese and when used in other cooking, which as far as she can tell is an old debate and one with no resolution. This wakes Andy up, too, but she only says "Yaks," and nothing else, in a mood because she's acclimating to the concept of sunburns lasting and has just discovered that her sunscreen doesn't actually last longer than a couple of hours.

"It says ultra protection daily sunblock on the bottle!" she keeps repeating, betrayal in her tone.

Nicky takes a break from pontificating on Greek yoghurt to say, "Maybe you are putting it on wrong?"

When Andy looks like she's ready to hit him, Joe says, "Give me that," takes the bottle from her, holds it a foot from his face and squints at it, before concluding: "The font is too small."

Fortunately, Nile is familiar enough with sunscreen to tell Andy how to do it—the right way this time, because Andy didn't listen the last time she told her to put on more—as they pack away their tent (Nile's discovery of the week is that she might not be able to die, but she can get a crick in her neck from sleeping in their car) and their food and don their backpacks and start driving further in.

The drive is punctuated by more cheese talk. Joe and Nicky devolve into a different language every hour or so, but only when talking to each other, remembering to revert to English when they turn to Nile. It's Nicky's turn to drive (which he does like a complete madman) so Joe gets shotgun, because of course he does.

Andy teaches Nile a card game, which is mostly about not letting your cards fly out of your hand when the wind picks up or when they go over a bump, which is often. Every once in a while, Joe breaks away from the conversation (which is stuck somewhere around ricotta) to remind Andy of a rule like "and if you get the queen of spades, you have to put away two of your cards until you find the jack," or "right, but you skip your turn if you've got two clubs in your hand and that new song comes on."

And then they're there.

It's eerie, the switch. One moment Nile's convinced she's finally got the hang of the game enough to actually win a round, and the next Andy's looking up, eyes wide, and saying, "We're here."

She says it with the tone of voice she had that first day they met. "We're here," like pulling up to Copley's house and being ready to walk into possible death. "We're here," like "Whatever it takes." It immediately puts her on edge, something in her that recognised the danger in Andy even before she saw the inside of that church sitting upright, ready to pay attention.

This is it, she thinks, trying not to feel like she's been falsely lulled into complacency. Time for Kill Bill: Vol. 2. For a second, she even wonders if all the rest of it—the cards, the cheese, the terrible driving and the jigsaw and the full three hours Andy and Joe spent in a single shop trying to buy a blanket that felt right—if all of those things are just to make Nile's survival instinct forget who they are.

Who they can be.

But then Nile starts to get out of the car, and Joe says, "Wait," and makes Andy slather more sunscreen on her face and arms while Nicky finishes his bit on ricotta and Joe himself counts every one of the fifty-two card set before he puts them away ("They're very smooth, and I'd like to not have to replace one yet."). So Nile decides that that cannot, possibly, be fake.

Intentional? Maybe. But not a lie. And the distinction matters, she thinks.

They go a little bit further on foot before they get to it. Stretching away around her is a huge cavernous structure of a pale bleached stone arcing at least twelve feet high. It's buried halfway in the dirt with vines and creepers and mushrooms and flowers all over it, but the structures still go well over her head, almost of a height with the old trees that surround it.

"What is this place?" she asks.

Andy says, "This is where Lykon died."

She can't say what it is that connects the dots in her mind, only that the moment Andy says it, she knows—that the structures aren't stone or ungodly amounts of ivory or a ritual site or a freak natural formation. They're bones, large and disproportionate and cavernous ribs, holding them in right now like once they held someone's—Lykon's—heart and lungs.

"I thought you said," she starts, but the truth is she doesn't know _what_ she thought. She cannot begin to comprehend this.

"He was just like us when he was alive," Andy says. Joe and Nicky have fallen back, standing next to the smallest rib, Nicky with his hand hovering over the rib like he wants to touch it, like he has, like there is a familiarity there, though Nile knows Lykon predates him. It's none of their first time here, though, she can tell. "He was shorter than me, actually. We used to..."

Nile doesn't ask as Andy looks away. Her eyes aren't wet, though, and though the pain radiates off her, she's nothing more than steel eyes and locked spine. When she looks at the bones, she looks like she's remembering—but maybe not his death.

Nile asks, "What happened?"

Andy grins at her. "No idea. We don't really have any other examples. We buried him here and didn't come back for... two hundred years? At least? And when we did, it was like this."

This tracks: all her answers to the truly unbelievable parts of all of this have been, in the end, we don't know. She turns instead to the one person who she thinks will have come to some kind of conclusion, not maybe out of a sense of science or logic, but because he needs something to believe in. Nile needs something to believe in, too—she always has. Sometimes that something has disappointed her more than it's given her any value, but—

But she's standing in a rib cage taller than she is, and every hair on her body is standing on end with it.

Nicky says, "Our lives are in some ways far greater than that of an ordinary person. I do not mean that they have more value, but perhaps... vastness of experience. It cannot reflect in us while we are alive, or as alive as we are, but after..." He shrugs.

Nile says, "So you think his bones expanded to reflect that?" except that even as she says it, she can feel something of the question in her settle. She's not blind—she's seen their age on them, on all of them. Not just in their exhaustion or the old people nonsense they're always on or the way they speak or their technological ineptitude, but in their eyes. In the way they close their fists and the way they hold their weapons. So really, she means, in their bones. Settled in there with an ancientness that she can't really comprehend, that she cannot even begin to imagine settling on her. When she was fifteen, sixteen had felt terribly far away, and when she was twenty-four, twenty-six felt like it was right there.

But one day—

She thinks of Copley's charts, strings drawing to strings and making a flowchart of history that goes back maybe one hundred years and spreads so far. Exponential, she hears, in his voice. Where does that go, after an immortal dies? Where does that sit while they're alive? If she looks at Andy now, she can almost imagine that she's seeing a woman with branches emerging from her the way vines have crept over and around Lykon's bones, entangling him permanently in this forest, making him just as much a part of the structure of this place as it—the world—is a part of him.

And Andy? Nile tries not to think of what she'll be, twenty or forty years from now.

She pointedly does not think of Quynh in her watery non-grave.

"So," Andy says, "don't bury me in a fucking city," and Joe barks out a surprised laugh. "Unless you want to fuck it up."

Nile rolls her eyes. "We're not burying you for a few decades yet, grandma," she says, though they cannot possibly have any idea of that. Sometimes she's convinced that being able to die at any moment now is a thousand times more frightening than being a normal person who, also, could die at any second. Maybe it's the experience of having lived through it, having come out the other side and found—she doesn't know. She doesn't feel invincible like this. She's never put too much thought into her own death before, but now that she's died and come back, she's terrified of it, and she wants it, and she wants to never look at it.

But at least, she thinks, looking at all the untold thousands of Andy's years compressed into a ribcage just like anybody else's—at least somebody will be able to see it, after. The vastness of what it means to be one of them.

There are flowers on the vines that wrap around the rib closest to Nile. She picks one and puts it in her pocket.

On the way back, Andy tells them about yak cheese.

#the old guard #tog fanfiction #mine.#minefic #more micro fiction from yours truly !!#i REALLY enjoyed how this one feels though #i do love Them. dearly

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nostalgicamerica · 1 year

Text

True story:

Back more decades than I care to count my folks uprooted the family from Minneapolis and moved us all to Northern Michigan. Talk about culture shock!

From city lights to country roads. From skyscrapers to outhouses. From a city of millions to a small town of less than 500.

I was about 8 or 9 so I didn't know anything or care that I didn't know anything.

Anyway, Mom and Dad and 13 kids set up shop in a dinky little town and, once the fights were out of the way (I don't know why, but all of the boys - and some of the girls - who were my friends in my childhood I had to fight first.) life was mostly bucolic and serene.

This was before cable TV and computers. My folks didn't even own a television set back then (televisions existed then - my folks just liked to torture us kids by not getting one). Despite the lack of electronics, I don't recall being bored. I do know that if I complained about having nothing to do, Mom was quick to find a chore from her infernal chore list to occupy my time. I was a fairly quick study when it came to avoiding work, and kept any periods of boredom to myself.

One summer morning, my younger brother and I decided we would see who could catch the most snakes. Don't ask why. The 'why' never occurred to us so you shouldn't bother with such trivialities either.

Catching snakes was easy. Especially the Garter Snakes and Copper Bellies that slithered around where we lived. You'd just wander around fields and lift any cover and - especially on hot days - like as not there would be a snake or two. A quick grab behind the head and into the sack.

They are not venomous and most of them wouldn't even bite. The bigger snakes could put a couple of puncture wounds in your hand, but I hardly noticed the bites.

At the end of the hunt my brother and I met up to compare the haul. Numbers escape me. Maybe he caught 15 and I had 12. It doesn't matter; we had close to 30 snakes and we couldn't just let them go. But what to do with them?

We were young and stupid but we knew enough to know bringing them in the house could result in very bad things happening. We could easily foresee heinie whackings or groundings or more chores if our mom found them or if they got away in the house.

We wracked our brains to find a solution when we had the brilliant idea to keep them in the worm box in the basement. Perfect.

An older brother had a less than thriving business picking and selling nightcrawlers to local fishermen and kept his product in a worm box in the cellar. He had lots of worms but few customers and mostly, I think, forgot he even had the business.

The worm box was huge; it was at least 6 feet long, 3 feet high, and 3 deep. Imagine a poorly made coffin. It was painted a light blue and sat in the back of the basement in the darkest, coolest spot. It was about half filled with dirt and worms.

While, technically, the basement was a part of the house, we reasonably reasoned as only young boys can; snakes can't climb and they certainly can't navigate stairs. What do they say about experience being the best instructor?

Satisfied with the solution, we dumped our catch in the box, closed the lid and went off to see whatever it was the evening had in store for us.

The next few days were a repeat. Wake up, chores, beat feet for the creek to cool off and then a snake hunt. A new friend, Skunk, joined us on one of the days.

By the time of the great snake escape, we probably had close to 100 snakes in the worm box. It was hard to judge because they would not stay still for a count, and - I can't speak for my brother - my ability to count decreased dramatically once I got past twenty. Twenty-one if I were naked.

It is disputed to this day how the snakes got out. I think somebody left the lid ajar, my brother asserts they just found a hole. It doesn't matter now, and it didn't matter then. The only thing that mattered is that a mob of snakes made a break for it.

If the snakes had done the logical thing and gone out the door leading outside there would have been no problem. But, no. They went in every possible direction and we learned that, yes, snakes can climb stairs.

I was reading a book in our room. Tom Sawyer, maybe, or Moby Dick, perhaps? Regardless of what I was reading, I was yanked from the plot by a sister's screams coming from the kitchen.

A sister's screams may be differentiated by volume and pitch. A shrill, piercing warble could mean anything from, "Somebody ate the muffin I was saving for later." to "A serial killer is breaking in the front door." On the other hand, a shriek that can decalcify your spinal column from one floor away can be loosely translated as, "My goodness, there appear to be a great number of snakes writhing around in the kitchen."

It sounded like banshees were running amok. Pots and pans were crashing, Mom was yelling, the dog was barking, and I could hear Dad laughing.

Though it was already dark outside, my brother and I slipped out of our window and managed to make it to ground level without breaking anything and beat feet for the creek.

Suffice it to say, upon our return, my brother and I had our backsides paddled. While I wasn't a fan of spankings, I just stoically accepted them as consequences for whatever it was that I had done.

For the next day or so Mom could hardly turn around without a Garter snake asking her to dance, and every time, Mom reflexively swatted whatever child was closest, even those who had nothing to do with the snakes running amok in the house. She was frazzled and harried and at her wits ends.

The worst of it was a few days later when she had a group of local ladies over for coffee and nisu. We had only been in town a few months and Mom was going out of her way to make friends.

Apparently (fortunately, my brother and I weren't there) the ladies were settled in the living room, trading gossip, nibbling on various Finnish confectionaries, and listening to Mom's Verdi and Rossini record albums when a garter snake decided emerge from under the couch.

The snake, perhaps just hungry for Mom's korvapuusti, or looking for the elusive exit, slid up on Mrs. Pelkkanen's shoe to have a look or maybe join in the conversation. One of the ladies across the room spotted the snake and tried to sound the alarm, sucked a piece of nisu into her throat and began to choke. She began coughing and trying to point as the lady next to her began pounding on her back in an effort to dislodge the obstruction.

At that point, another lady screamed, not bothering to point, which set off other ladies screaming for no particular reason.

The snake, apparently insulted at the less than cordial welcome, proceeded to slither across Mom's area rug towards possible freedom.

Mom was so incensed at the snake's cheeky gall she jumped up to get rid of the serpent but stumbled into the coffee table, spilling the coffee pot all over Mrs. Suuri's white skirt, and flipped the tray of treats across the room. Mom began snarling at the snake and spitting with ineffectual rage.

Fortunately, my oldest sister, keeping her wits about her, grabbed the broom and brusquely swept the garter into the dust pan and deposited the snake outdoors, which was all it wanted in the first place.

When calm was restored, the ladies were all laughing about the unusual entertainment and Mom had made several fast friends. Even Mrs. Suuri was mollified when Mom offered to clean her skirt, or replace it if cleaning didn't work.

If Mom was grateful for our assistance in expanding her social circles she had a strange way of showing it.

For the next two days my brother and I were required to pull every piece of furniture from each room, one room at a time, certify the room was snake-free, and replace the furnishings.

Without bothering to inform Mom, we found about a half-dozen snakes in various locations which were all set free in the garden.

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neonriser · 2 months

Text

For those who can't see the screenshot post, for whatever reason it may be:

@sillyrookie posted:

Ok, since @hairiclilred asked, I'll start my dumb rant.

Over here in the US, the videogame market fell off a cliff in 1983 due to a reckless oversaturated market flooded with low quality dreck that killed player interest. So many unsold Atari games ended up filling landfills.

Revenue dropped by 97%. It was catastrophic. Videogames died in America for a couple years due to short-sighted business decisions by major corporations.

The American market was revitalized when Nintendo came over and instituted limits to third parties to keep quality up, while also ensuring that quality was their brand. America only has a video game market today because of Nintendo.

I think the current environment of constant remakes, mergers, layoffs, diminishing returns on blockbuster products, and corps thinking they can use "AI" to regurgitate their once valuable IP will cause a similar crash.

What I find interesting is how many classic IP will end up dying in the wake of this.

At the moment so many distinguished studios with established IP are getting bought up by corps, only to lay off the workers and shutter the studios.

The workers don't just lose their jobs, they lose the IP they created. Even if the team can regroup, they can't use the stuff they made anymore. The IP dies with the studio.

So stuff like this makes me feel like we're right at the brink of a collapse that will kill ALOT of once profitable IP when audiences are made sick and tired of alot of stuff they used to love.

These IP owners don't understand the products they own, the workers that make it, and the audience that buy it; and many in the c-suite have actual contempt for all three things.

When an IP stops being profitable, corps shut it down, lock it away unless somebody has the capital to buy it from them.

The only thing they understand is that an old movie made by humans generated billions of profits for them because an audience enjoyed it, and instead of taking new risks it's "better" business short term to just rehash the stuff that made money before. And if they expect "generative AI" to make more content even faster, expect a sea of endless remakes, each shittier than the last one.

Things are bad now, and they're gonna get way worse real fast.

I expect a cultural massacre. What does that look like?

It's obviously a different world today than the 1980s, but Nintendo's core business ideology has stayed consistent, and they'll weather a AAA crash with no problem because they don't play the AAA space at all.

They make a sustainable lower-tech console that's sold at a profit (the traditional model before the Wii was to make a powerful console and sell it at a loss so that you made your money on software sales) and their brand still means quality even 40 years later. Not every game they do is amazing, but their batting average is high and they go out of their way to avoid dropping anything half-baked.

I think every other industry is gonna need their own Nintendos to rise from the ashes. The more I learned about the history of the industry, the more respect I have for them.

And they are NOT perfect. But it the broad strokes they're the example I think most should follow to have a sustainable industry that keeps everyone happy.

Heck, I'll define "everyone happy:"

Artists properly paid, having job security, and able to BE creative.

Players having quality games to enjoy.

Businesses being sustainable for the long term, properly using the revenue from successes to experiment with new ideas, and not screwing anyone over.

[Image: Sonic saying "I WANT SHORTER GAMES WITH WORSE GRAPHICS MADE BY PEOPLE WHO ARE PAID MORE TO WORK LESS AND I'M NOT KIDDING".]

If the collapse I'm imagining does actually happen, the only possible thing to grow out of it are new IP from all the artists that got laid off.

New stuff would be the only things coming out for a while and the only things people want if the big franchises burned them out.

Depending on how audience sentiment is by that point, public domain stuff might become suspect as well, which is also an interesting scenario to me.

I think about how the current remake ecosystem is targeted at millennials (which I am) while the pendulum is already set to swing in the other direction.

Sorry for not talking about this part first. 😂

74% of that survey wants new stuff. The major IP holders are about to commit suicide if they go through with the "AI will make us 30 remakes per second" scheme.

One thing I hope DOESN'T happen is a backlash against honesty in the creative process.

We were culturally at a point where the average joe could understand that new ideas don't come from nowhere and are all mutations of old ideas.

Game of Thrones exists because Lord of the Rings came first, which owes it's existence to Norse myth and Beowulf, ect ect.

We're at the point where youtubers make games out of seeing what a song sampled from, the references a movie made, on and on.

But right now a popular spiel from "AI" charlatans to justify IP theft is the assertion that there's no difference between stealing copyrighted media for an LLM to regurgitate and a human being inspired by the ideas and experience they felt from another creator's work and creating a new thing under the established rules of copyright. It's a lie, but it keeps getting repeated to justify theft.

As the scam cycle winds down, I think they might be poisoning the discourse in a lasting way. We could go back to people lying about how ideas work, and that has only negative effects on human expression as a whole.

I want a world where everyone understands the difference between inspiration and a ripoff and can appreciate human creation better than previous generations have. We were right there before the scammers showed up.

So yeah, another rant out of me. 😂

So when people want new IP, they also need to understand what it means that Dragonball was a goofy parody of Journey to the West.

Dragonball is alot of things, it's inspirations are loud and obvious (even the Terminator is in there), but it's also a unique work created through the mind of one talented individual that nobody else could have made, because nobody else was Akira Toriyama, and ALL the subsequent works inspired by Dragonball (One Piece, Naruto, Hero Academia, Sonic the Hedgehog, ect) are their own original works that stand on their own, but still owe their existence to Toriyama's work as much as he owes his work to the things that inspired him.

The best ecosystem is where everyone encourages new IP and also fully understands how they come into being.

(Using this example for obvious reasons.)

Discord Post Reaction: [☝️ 1]

To go back to the topic of videogames, Toys for Bob recently made themselves layoff proof by going full independent.

With the level and volume of world class talent being laid off in the industry, I think we'll see more and more indy teams pop up if they can organize the means to do so.

There is too much high pedigree talent out there right now to just disappear or eventually go back to the people that screwed them over. The current ecosystem allows smaller teams and projects to flourish.

I am 100% down for an industry with less games like Immortals of Aveum and WAY more games like Pizza Tower.

#rant post #not me #i just screencapped it #serious stuff #sillyrookie

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theafrochick · 6 months

Text

my red flag is I'll wake up and be hurtled into a silly goofy mood so i write shit like this to cope. I like the idea of putting this in the long fic im deluding myself into thinking I'm going to write but for now have a snippet i guess since it'd feel weird posting this on ao3? idk.

we love stolas having a mental breakdown. and we also love asmodeus being along for the ride cus Asmodeus playing bob the builder with Stolas would fulfill all my needs in life actually.

something something projection and copium

Anyway

Pairing is: stolas & asmodeus. hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,741

I got sick of writing this lmao ignore the ending.

“What else is this supposed to be about then? I don’t know why we keep doing this when you found somebody else’s dick to hop on.”

“W-what on earth are you talking about?” Anxiety stabbed into you as you hug your grimoire to your chest. This was supposed to be a conversation. This was supposed to fix everything and instead if was devolving faster than you could have dreamed.

“Don’t play dumb Stolas, you and Asmodeus are plastered across every tabloid this side of hell. At least have the balls to admit that you’re just keeping me around as a side piece.”

“No, no, Blitzy it’s not like that. We’re friends! I’m doing him a favor, I would never do something like that. What do you take me for?” Blitz takes a step back when you try to approach him, an unfamiliar look of disdain crossing his features. A knot settles in your chest as you felt yourself shrink before him.

You knew you were a hypocrite for wanting him to believe that you wouldn’t cheat considering your relationship was a product of an affair, but you assumed his jealousy would be resolved when he realized Asmodeus was in a very committed relationship of his own. Clearly that wasn’t enough but you weren’t sure what else you could do for him. It felt like it didn’t matter at the end of the day. You had done for this him but he would never believe you if you actually said that. Or it’d somehow add more fuel to this never ending fire.

“I don’t see what kind of favor you needed him that involves you needing to hang all over him. If its about that stupid necklace you gave me so you wouldn’t have to see me anymore then consider the hint taken. You didn’t have to whore yourself out to get away from me.”

“I didn’t- I’m not- Please just listen to me, I only gave you that because-” You try to approach again. Blitz takes several steps back, folding his arms over his chest. Whatever faint connection you had to him snapped in that moment. The fact that there wasn’t anything to try and fix hit you like a truck and you the desire to cling to the vast nothing you had been given evaporated. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You were so tired of it. You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to straighten. Forcing yourself to not reach for him again even though a small part of you still wanted to. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then we can consider this the conclusion of any business we might have with one another. This 14th or any other are yours for the taking.”

You suck in another breath, then turn and take the stairs back into your house at a measured pace. In the resulting silence, filled by the bubbling of the fountain in the courtyard, you hoped that he wouldn’t actually let you walk away. But then the van door opened and closed. You opened the door to the foyer. The engine starts and fades just as quickly. You close the door, the click of the latch echoing through your head.

You’re fine. It’s okay. This is okay.

You feebly tried to placate yourself as you made your way through the house to put your grimoire away. If you didn’t it’d leave room for everything else to take root and even if you were pathetic, you refused to cry yourself to sleep on the entryway floor. This wasn’t the first time you just had to keep it together for a little while. What a handful of minutes compared to the other countless hours you had spent hiding from yourself.

But the grimoire never made it back to its place, because you were used to not having it. Because you had put a new book in its place. Because that book didn’t even fit well in your organization scheme but the blank space hurt to look at when you missed Blitz. Because you could handle the slight annoyance that it was in the wrong spot than look at that hole. Because if you moved that book to put your grimoire away then you’d have to find a new place for the wrong book. Because you didn’t have a place for it in the first place. Because then you’d end up reorganizing the mountain of books you had. Because after all that nothing would be the same. Because then you’d have to change. Because then you’d have to clean yourself. Because then you’d probably have to eat something. Because then you’d have to go to bed. Because then you’d have to wake up and grapple with the fact that you were as alone as you had felt your whole life.

Your knees give out and you curl into yourself. Between the sobs racking your body and the waves of anxiety that kept crashing over you you could barely breathe. Why is it always my fault?

How much more were you expected to give? You buried everything you wanted to the sake of others. You worried yourself sick. You overthought everything. You tarnished your birthright. You threw away whatever reputation you had t hat wasn’t trampled on by Stella. You couldn’t dig any deeper. There wasn’t any place you could hide from yourself anymore. You had nothing left and nothing to show for it. How was it still your fault that things ended up this way?

The vague burning sensation in your skin left behind from the feathers you hadn’t meant to rip out wasn’t enough to keep you grounded. And then more intentionally thinking that might leave you with something to grab onto as your magic misfired and bled into the room. Ichor seeped out of walls and pooled on the floor around you. The sound of cracking stone could scare be heard about the sound of your heart pounding in your aching chest. You’re making a mess, pull yourself together. This is unbecoming.

Normally a few sobering thoughts were enough for you to reign it in. To get some semblance of a grip on yourself and put yourself back together.

Not now. What was the point? You could stay there for as long as you wanted because nobody would care enough to come check on you. You could destroy the whole mansion and the only person who’d have to deal with it was you. This could just be another thing to add to the long list of things you couldn’t do right. Can’t be a prince. Can’t be a husband. Can’t be a father. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t take care of yourself. Can’t be left alone.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your nails graze your skin before everything went silent.

“What the fuck...?”

You blink back into consciousness, cold from the ichor that had soaked into your clothes. Your head hurt, and your vision blurred. The tightness in your chest had subsided enough that you could at least breathe again. Maybe. Fresh anxiety wormed it’s way into you as Asmodeus cautiously pads over to you.

“Stolas, are you alright? What happened?”

You shove yourself into a sitting position, black spots dancing in your vision. A nervous laugh escapes you as you clap your hands together. “Oh, I was just...working on a spell.” Another nervous laugh. You set your soaked grimoire on the window seat, praying it was still legible. You could barely convince yourself that was an excuse let alone Asmodeus. Not when he was privy to everything that was going on and didn’t know how to let anything go. Not when you had unintentionally placed him in the middle of all of this.

“Wanna run that one by me again?” Asmodeus crouches in front of you, his head cocked earnestly to the side as he studies you.

“Just practicing…” You couldn’t bear to look at him as you forced the words out. Your stomach churned and your throat clenched. You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up or start crying again. Or both. “I’m fine, really. Do tell why you’re here.”

Asmodeus exhales sharply, resting his hand on the side of your face. He works his fingertips through your feathers to graze his claws against your skin. A tremor runs through you as the heat from his palm seeps into you. He always did run hot.

You fought the urge to sink into him, tension settling in your back as you sat a little straighter. “Really, I’ve just been out of practice so I thought it’d be good to reacquaint myself with some of the spells in the back of the book only I got distracted and it backfired a little. Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure I did worse when I was younger. Haven’t we all?”

You weren’t sure what you were going on about as the room groaned and shifted around you. But saying nothing of any real substance was easier than sitting there in silence, trying not to look at him. This display was shameful, even if it was supposed to be private. Nothing was ever private. One way or another others always managed to wiggle their way in. If you said you fine eventually you’d mean it again and then things could go back to normal.

The chandelier gives from the added weight of the petrification and rips itself free of the ceiling. Asmodeus starts, whipping his head around to look at the pile of stone and plaster sitting on the floor. “Stolas…” He edges closer to you, cupping your face with his hands. “Don’t lie to me. It’s one thing if you want to be alone to work through whatever the fuck this is, but nobody who knows you and has half a brain would believe you’re fine right now.” He chose his words carefully, his drawl being the only thing that stopped an actual pause from forming.

You wring your hands together in your lap. For a moment you were a child being scolded for getting upset and all you could do was bear it. What good would admitting to anything do? If you did then it’d make this more real than it already was. So this was just another thing you could do. Pretend. Not anymore. You had felt the mask slipping for some time now but you never thought the day would come where you actually couldn’t put it back on. “It’d be a waste for you to worry about me when this whole thing is my fault.”

“I have a very hard time believing that.”

You shrug helplessly, pulling your face from his hands. “It always is… Things never should have gotten this far. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t that’s the problem. I never think. None of this ever would have happened if I just did what I was supposed to, but I never do. I can’t do anything right.” You suck in a breath, batting his hands away when he reaches for you. “Sorry, that was rather uncalled for. You should just go.”

“Do you mean that?”

Of course not.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, undoubtedly smearing black on the side of your face. “It’s for the best.”

You tense when Asmodeus pulls you into his lap. You couldn’t manage to protest as he wraps himself around you. “It’ll be okay, Stolas, you’ll make it through this.”

For a moment you could breathe. Your mind goes blank for an instant before everything comes rushing back to the surface again. It hurt, and you were certain that you wouldn’t be okay. You had never been okay. How were you supposed to start now?

“There, there, let it all out.”

You whimper softly, burying your face in Asmodeus neck while he gently rocks you. You always liked how unnaturally warm he was. When given the chance it was hard not to drift to his side whether it was warranted or not. The sickly sweet smell that clung to him usually assaulted your senses and relaxed you but now it just mingled with your shame and made you too acutely aware of the situation you were presently in.

Getting a handle on yourself felt more a priority than working through whatever this was supposed to be. You needed out of this. You needed Asmodeus to feel like he had gotten what he wanted so he could continue on. You couldn’t get used to this. You couldn’t start to depend on him. He wasn’t yours to need. Nobody was. You were too old to be throwing a tantrum because you couldn’t get what you wanted. That’s what this boiled down to wasn’t it? Once again you expected too much. It was your own fault for getting your hopes up. How could you end up surprised you were here? This had been coming for months and you should have accepted this then. You should have taken the inevitable with grace. Especially when you left him with everything he wanted. He’d never think about you again while you stupidly clung to things that only ever mattered to you.

Was that it? Was everyone always placating you because it was easier than dealing with this? Maybe you were unreasonable. Asmodeus was only here because you hadn’t said the right things. If you were a little stronger you’d be cleaning. And you’d move that stupid book someplace else. Or throw it away because you didn’t even need it, it was just the first one you saw. What was it even called? To think you fell apart over something that normally didn’t occupy an ounce of head space. I’m hopeless.

You blink a few times, abruptly all too aware of your body pressed against Asmodeus’. Of his steady breathing. Of his heart thudding in his chest. You had enough sense to be embarrassed without a twinge of anxiety so you had to confront the fact that you had to actually start picking up the pieces of whatever Blitz had broken inside of you countless times. There probably wasn’t even anything left at this point, but trying was really your only option when Asmodeus certainly wasn’t going to let you go back to tearing yourself and your house apart.

For now, you were mostly tired, and if you stayed like this any longer the idea of sleeping on his chest would have been tempting. Though this raised the question of you needing to get out of this and you were no closer to a solution than when the question was first posed. “Uhm...Asmodeus?”

“Yes, Stolas?” Asmodeus shifts you a little higher, nuzzling your neck.

“You may put me down, if you want.”

Asmodeus studies you for a moment. While the scrutiny still made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as unbearable as before. He seemed satisfied that you weren’t still spiraling out of control and eased you back onto the floor. You brace yourself on his shoulder and stand, a headache forming at your temples. “Why don’t you come stay with me tonight?”

“No, no I couldn’t possibly do that. It’s alright. This is a big place. There are other beds.”

Asmodeus hauls himself off the floor, momentarily distracted by the puddle off ooze he had put his hand in. “I also have other beds. Ones that aren’t covered in freaky black jizz. Besides, you need a bath and I know you aren’t going to take one. You’re probably not even going to change either and that look on your face says it all.” Asmodeus cuts you off, “girl you need to get a grip. I’m all for spending all day in bed, but at least do it in a clean one.”

You sigh, not really having the energy to argue with him. “I really wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I have servants for a reason, only people you’re putting out are on payroll. Though word of advice,” he snaps his fingers, opening a portal into a very pink bathroom, “don’t let Froggy make your breakfast. He’ll do it because he knows you’re too nice to say no, and I think you’ve suffered enough for one week.”

“I’m not-” The protest died on your lips as you stepped into the bright light. You were already missing your room before the portal had closed. “Fizzarolli thinks I’m nice?”

“How could anybody think otherwise?”

#helluva boss #fanfic #stolas #asmodeus #my writing

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penhoonie · 9 months

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loading . . .

he’s not my boyfriend!

pairing: y.jungwon x fem!reader

genre: university au | fluff | slightly angst(?

word count: 1.8k words

warnings: some misunderstanding/miscommunication (good ending tho); ghosting (kind of); kissing, possible making out (mention only)

a/n: i’m trying to write slightly longer one-shots and leader wonie is my first take, hope you like it !!

[monday 07th; 07:49 a.m]

The sun shinned, blindly reflecting on the almost iced pavement, product of the previous night's freezing temperatures.

Despite the immaculate blue, cloud free sky; it was still a really cold Monday morning. After all, February was just halfway through and the city of Seoul is noticeable by its not so warm winters.

However, the comfort Hong y/n found under her cozy duvet was almost unbreakable.

Almost.

— NOONA!— the door slammed wide open. The young woman tripped over her bed sheets, harshly hitting the floor. Quickly sitting on the rug, she directed her furious eyes towards the entrance of the room.

The teenager on the corridor seemed quite shocked and scared, suddenly walking back and stuttering— Your mom asked to call. You go to class. Breakfast. Goodbye.

A perfectly 90° was done by the younger, just before he started running down the stairs and probably headed to the kitchen. Knowing he was already a lost target, y/n checked her clock, realising that she had (once again) turned off the alarm and she was already rather late.

Not wanting to arrive late to her lesson, she rushed to change into her go-to outfit and runned downstairs. Both her mom and Riki were already picking up their plates.

— When are you going to learn?— was the only thing she heard from her mother, before picking up a toast and sprint again to the bus stop.

[monday 07th; 08:36 a.m]

— y/n-ah? It's you?— a masculine yet soft voice was heard from her back while she was scrolling through her phone's gallery looking for the map of the campus she had.

If there was something Hong y/n was worse at than waking up, that was keeping things organised.

She turned around, relieved by the company— Jungwon-ah! Are you taking Sociology 2?

His classmate chuckled before answering— You don't know where the class is, right?

— Yeah, you got me there— she said, a little bit embarrassed, lowering the head—. But it's already late, so let's go now.

They arrived to the lesson safe and sound, barely making it before Mr. Choi made act of presence. A couple hours later, they were chatting on the way to the cafeteria.

— Oh, I totally forgot!— he suddenly interrupted right in front of the cantine's door— I am supposed to eat with the guys today.

The female felt quite taken aback— You don't have to worry! I can eat with somebody else like...— her eyes scanned the place and the reality hit her like the bucket of cold water that Riki had used to wake her up a couple of months ago. She didn't have any other friend in there apart from Jungwon— Or, you know what? I actually have a lot to do. Maybe I can grab a sandwich and go straight to the library by myself to get some things done–

— No, wait. You should come with us— he stated, holding her wrist— I was the one who told you to eat together. Besides, I've been meaning to introduce you for a long time, y'all will for sure get along. Trust me please, they are really nice people.

Jungwon was, from her point of view, the best person she had ever met. He had the warmest personality you could ever come across, which combined with his immaculate grades and impressive visuals had made him already really popular on campus despite being just a fresh man.

Although her friend's existence by itself would have probably gone totally unnoticed if it wasn't for "the guys", as he had mentioned before. The university held a couple of clubs; and, among them, the musical one really stood out.

They were like the F4 had come to life. Except there were six of them, and Jungwon was the newest addition to the pack. All of them were brilliantly talented and had received around a hundred of cards on Valentine's Day from delusional fans.

It was seriously intimidating for the girl to go and just sit with them, self awareness invading her by the second. But, then again, Jungwon was her only friend; and she didn't want to let him down.

— I'll come with you. But if I'm uncomfortable I will be faking a phone call and running away. Don't try to stop me, because I won't— she warned, gaining a laugh from the male.

— Okay, I get it. You need your space— he put is hands up and headed towards the table where a couple of seniors where already sitting down—. Thanks for giving them a chance for me— he added, smiling.

— Jungwon-ah! Who's the beautiful lady?— a cute looking guy asked, making her tensed up already.

— Hyung, do you remember the girl I talked you about, y/n?— he responded, guiding her at the same time to take a sit right beside him— Since I wanted to introduce you to each other I invited her to join us— Jungwon continued.

— If I'm interrupting anything I can leave now, if you want—she added, nervous.

— No, no! Don't leave— he quickly stated with a big smile— I'm Sunoo, 2nd year in School Teaching. And this is Jongseong-hyung— he indicated a guy next to him, laying over the table— he's in Business, 3rd year. If you're lucky enough he would wake up and talk by himself before the break is over.

— Only if you are really lucky though— someone from behind the first graders entered the conversation, making the woman jump by surprise.

Turns out they were another couple of sunbaenims, as they introduced themselves shortly after.

— So you have been friends with Jungwon this whole time? How comme I've never saw you before?— Jake, the social butterfly of 3rd grade asked.

— I'm good at being undercover, I guess?— she answered, unsure—. Besides, you guys are like celebrities in here, surrounded by so many people might complicate noticing anyone else.

— If this is celebrity life I don't think I'll ever envy them— Jungwon said, tossing a spoon full of rice in his mouth.

— Me too— Sunoo added.

— Me three— this time, not only y/n but the four of them jumped because of the sudden voice. The guy lying over the table raised his head. His sleepily cute expression didn't matched his low tone voice—. You must be that one girl who is close with Wonie, right?

The youngest noticed how the female was quite uncomfortable out of the blue and wondered why.

— Y-yeah, I guess— she stuttered, nerviously. She suddenly stood up and Jungwon looked at her with a weird expression, knowing what she was about to do—. Anyway, I just remembered that I have to tell my mother something important, so I’ll be going.

— Did she just lie to us?— Jake asked.

The youngest sighed— She told me in advance she was leaving if she felt panicked. But everything seem okay though?— he pouted, confused.

— There’s something wrong with me? She escaped as soon as I woke up— Jay questioned.

— No, hyung, probably she just felt overwhelmed because the rest are also coming. It’s not your fault— Sunoo interfered, with a comforting smile.

[monday 07th; 03:35 p.m]

At the end of the day, as they were leaving the campus, the whole group encountered the girl again.

— Hey, y/n!— Jake called her attention—. We were planning to get an ice cream today, would you like to join us?

She was about to accept the offer in order to make up from her suddenly escape before when a familiar yell reached her ears. All of them turned around, watching a tall figure getting closer to them from the other side of the road.

Nishimura Riki was notable by his good looks and charismatic appealing. So, specially after he started shouting out of the blue, it was only natural that more than one student kept their eyes on him as he careless took big steps towards the girl.

— Noona!— he greeted, still in a loud voice— Oww, you've made some friends lately?— he patted her head with a teasing smirk on his face. She quickly hold his wrist, lowering it.

— Stop it with that— she stated in a whisper, taken aback by the action—. I've told you like a hundred times to not scream like that in public, people stare at us!— she continued while the guys beside her remained confused by the close relationship between the two.

— If someone keep watching it's because I'm attractive, nothing to do with the loudness— he bragged—. You, on the other hand...

— What are you trying to say, you little–

— Sorry to interrupt the sweet talk— Jay cut her swearing, ironically— but, may I know who are you?

— Nishimura Riki— the youngest introduced himself with a sweet smile and politely bowing. He looked like a total different person from the teasing one talking to Jeong just seconds ago—, but you can call me Niki.

— Are you close with y/n?— Jungwon questioned this time.

— Yeah, obviously. We live together— he added, throwing an arm over the female's shoulders just to annoy her. The group tried to hold the shock; while she kept fighting with Niki, not really paying attention to her new friends' reactions.

— In fact, I came here to pick you up— the younger spoke, suddenly directed to her.

— What do you mean «pick me up», as if I haven't been coming here by myself for the past six months? I can totally go back to the apartment alone— she asserted, crossing her arms around the chest. The Japanese boy sigh, taking something from the pocket of his hoodie and holding it in front of her.

— You left your keys at home— she felt her face reddening and, for the second time on the same day, she left quickly and embarrassed.

— Soooo, that was y/n’s boyfriend?— Sunoo asked what everyone was wondering.

— I don't really know, she never mentioned having a boyfriend— Jungwon answered, quickly clarifying—. Well, I mean, it's not like we had discussed the topic before either.

— But aren't they a little bit young to be living together already? Something just feels off— Heeseung suddenly joined the conversation. Sunghoon agreed, thoughtful expression reflected on the face as he walked with his hands into his pockets.

— Guys, it's none of our business— Jay stated, slowing his pace and pitching down his voice just to let Jungwon by his side hear him—. Are you okay?

The younger flashed a little smile at him, lowering his head— Yeah. I knew anyway I'd never had a chance, I'm aware about being only her friend.

Jay felt devastated, knowing that his friend was much more desolate than he let anyone know. He lightly squeezed his shoulder as a support gesture.

— Let me treat you your ice cream for today.

[friday 11th; 12:03 p.m]

— Jay!— the guy heard a loud voice coming from behind his back, immediatly making him shift his direction. His eyes met with the younger woman, quickly approaching his way—. I got that right? I got Jay and Jake mixed up, sorry.

— No problem, you’re right this time— he responded—. Why are you calling me though?

— Oh, it’s just that…— she looked embarrassed again, why it was only in his presence?—. You know, maybe it’s not that big of a deal, but Jungwon hasn’t been attending classes these days. Also, I tried to contact him but he never answered— y/n kept a preoccupied expression all along her explanation—. I know you guys are really close so, do you know if he’s okay?

His features softened after listening to the speech. Jay himself had been trying for a couple days now to get Jungwon out of his house and attend to his responsibilities, but looked like his friend’s puppy love was way more serious than anyone expected. Jungwon was heartbroken and couldn’t bring himself further than his room doorway.

— He… has been having a hard time lately. You know— he included—, personal issues.

Jay wasn’t blaming y/n by any meanings. She had no idea whatsoever about Won’s feelings and, even if she knew, what could she possibly have done about it? Jungwon didn’t blame her neither, and even foresaw this scenerio and warned his hyung to not let her know anything. He didn’t want her pity.

However, watching her confused and hurt expression, Jay couldn’t bring himself to lie to y/n.

— Okay, listen— he lowered his voice to a much secretive tone— I’m not supposed to ask this and it’s going to sound weird but, was that one guy who picked you up your boyfriend?

— Wait, you mean Riki?— she didn’t even have time to think why Jay was asking that because of how ridiculous the question seemed to her—. He’s like my little brother, what do you mean boyfriend?! Oh my, so disgusting.

— Is he really?— he seemed excited about the new information. Jay was so sure about Jungwon’s feelings being reciprocate.

— Well, he’s my mom’s best friend kid. He’s been living with us for a couple years now. Besides, I already like somebody else— she blushed slightly—. What was the urge in asking that?

Jay smiled widely— You like somebody else? I’m being so straightforward right now, sorry, but is he Jungwon?— the red in her cheeks arrived to her ears— Am I right?

She slowly nodded. He almost hugged her out of happiness— That kid wouldn’t listen to me and I was right all along.

[friday 11th; 12:37p.m]

15 minutes, a long context and a ride in Jay’s car later; y/n was standing right outside Jungwon’s house. Collecting all her courage, she ringed the doorbell.

She could hear lazy footsteps before the door was unlocked. They both stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Jungwon had a reddish tint in his eyes and his dimples showing with the usual grin were nowhere to be seen; y/n had dark circles still noticeable under her make up and a huge relieved expression after seeing her crush before her eyes.

— Oh, look at you— she rapidly wrap her arms around him—. You silly, you look so pale. Have you even been eating all meals?

Jungwon thought so fast: he didn’t know why she was hugging him, why she was there and, most importantly, how did y/n even knew his adress?

She slowly pulled out, her eyes slightly glossy— Jungwon, don’t you ever dare about disappearing like this again.

— I- Wait, are you crying?— y/n tried to turn her face around, but Jungwon quickly hold her, cleaning the tears—. Please, please, don’t cry. It hurts so much to see you like this, you don’t understand-

— I don’t understand? How do you think seeing you like this makes me feel?— she asked back—. You missed three days of class after a semester of perfect attendance, didn’t explain anything, didn’t answered my messages! I was so worried about you.

The sudden ramble of sentiments made the boy lost his five senses. He felt guilty, knowing what the girl had been through; but secretly also appeared a slight tint of happiness, realizing how much she cared about him— Did you really?

— Do you think I wouldn’t notice if the guy that I liked suddenly vanished and ignored me for days?— there it was. She had said it.

Jungwon blinked. One, two. A third time. He wasn’t sure if he just was creating things because of the poor sleep or his brain had gone full delusional.

But, as people usually say, act is worth more than words. And before he could react, y/n had leaned forward; their lips clashing together.

[monday 28th; 12:37p.m]

— Hey, lovebirds— Jay announced his arriving to the table in the cafeteria.

— Don’t eat each other out while we are here, please— Jake added.

— Hyung! That was not our fault.

— You literally didn’t knock the door!— y/n supported her boyfriend.

— We weren’t expecting that! You had literally corrupted my child— Heeseung intervened.

— He was way rotten when I got to know him, who is guilty for that?— she argued back.

A playful (and now, almost daily) battle arose on the cafeteria. Jungwon giggled almost at everything y/n did say, as he wrapped his arm around her fondly.

@ penhoonie masterlist

#enhypen #enha fluff #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon fluff

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because-she-goes · 1 year

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sentimental shit

I was 15 when self titled came out. A girl in my high school was a massive ‘75 fan and would talk about them at our lunch table. I don’t really remember hearing this album for the first time, but just knew I loved it. Kinda like it was programmed into my brain from some other being.

I was 18 when ILIWYS came out and that album I do have clear memories of. Waking up at 6am, driving to school and listening to A Change of Heart for the first time and having my whole world change around me. Then, Love Me, UGH!, Somebody Else and The Sound being all on the radio here in America. I remember NYC pride that year and Loving Someone being played seemingly 24/7. I remember She Lays Down and Nana making me cry on the first listen. Then listening to the instrumentals to help me feel a bit better. I remember being in awe of Matty’s writing ability, George’s production, Ross and Adam just as humans and how their work stood out so clearly among the bright, 80s synths.

For ABIIOR, I was now 20. A college student fully invested in this band, their wellbeing as individuals, their friendship, their romantic relationships the whole 9. I remember reading the preview articles from NME and Pitchfork saying how Matty was clean and sober. I remember watching their first shows back on youtube and seeing Matty cry during Robbers because it was the first time in 5 years he heard the crowd yelling the words back to him properly and while sober. I remember hearing How To Draw / Petrichor and losing my mind over them taking an iliwys song that wasn’t really released and now revamping it. I remember the treadmill dance, the music videos, the easter eggs, the day Give Yourself a Try dropped and the youtube comments saying how in-love everyone was w/ the new sound. I remember listening to TOOTIME as I wrote my final essays.

For Notes, I was 22. It came out the year I graduated college and I can recall preordering the neon green vinyl for myself as a birthday present/graduation gift. I studied environmental politics at school so to see this band I’ve loved now take steps at their live shows to educate the masses about the climate (before everything went to shit) and also use all cardboard packaging for the shipping of the vinyl so it could be recycled later was incredible I remember being on vacation and then coming home to see it in the mail, unwrapping it like I was unearthing an ancient jewel. I remember solely listening to Notes that whole summer snd thinking about George and how he should’ve been nominated for a Grammy or Brit for Producer of the Year for that album. I remember being so happy that it was an album of mostly instrumentals as they are almost always my favorites. Even now, I will put it on during chores or studying or writing. It is by a mile, my favorite of theirs so far.

As for BFIAFL, my clearest memory from the roll-out was hearing that it was going to be released within a week of a Taylor Swift and an Arctic Monkeys album. I remember listening to the Taylor album fir the first few days until BFIAFL and then it was like no other music existed. I listened to the new opening track in a half-shock, half amazement. I loved the old one, but could see how it was out of date a bit and how fucking beautiful the new one was (it still makes me cry whenever I listen to it). I loved how honest Matty was about everything, how direct he was and how he respected us enough as fans to address things head-on. I remember those VEVO videos and watching the Oh Caroline one on a loop. I remember crying when I heard the last line of Part of the Band about Matty’s sobriety. I remember watching the video for Happiness like it was a presidential address, eyes glued to my laptop in a trance. I listened to Wintering on Christmas morning and the whole 2 weeks surrounding it daily.

All in all, this band has been with me for a fucking decade of my life and I am so thankful to have these albums as bookends and markers to each period of my life. As Matty said in an interview once, “theres nothing else like this for me in my life” and for that special connection to their music, I will never be able to thank them enough. I love them.

#drew’s writing :)#not matty and nora #me !#just have been thinking about this alot #idk #im-#the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann #self titled #iliwysfyasbysuoi #abiior #noacf #bfiafl

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sunflowerharrington · 2 years

Text

stitches: chapter 5

chapter 005: i’m screaming, but i can’t wake up

STITCHES MASTERLIST

fandom - stranger things (2016-)

rating - mature, for now

pairing(s) - eddie munson × reader, steve harrington × reader, billy hargrove × reader

stitches taglist - @vingtetunmars @dallysnecklace @preciousbabypeter @eddiebillysteve @taecube @quickiesgirl @gods-favorite-asthmatic dm or comment to let me know if you would like to be added or taken off!

stranger things taglist - @eddies-bat @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @sympathyforher dm or comment to let me know if you would like to be added or taken off!

word count - 3455

warnings and tags for this chapter - trauma, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), papa is mentioned, 001 is mentioned, vecna, implied death, vecna’s curse, telekinesis, levitation, blood and violence, gore, cemeteries, fear of being buried alive, hallucinations and visions, the mind flayer.

author's notes - are we all okay? also, i’m… not sorry 🤭 title from ‘simple death’ by chelsea wolfe

can also be found on my A03. @/sunflowerharrington

Respiration: The act of breathing; The process in living organisms involving the production of energy, typically with the intake of oxygen and the release of carbon dioxide from the oxidation of complex organic substances. Or in your case; contaminated air filling your lungs, polluting your body, and the release of air with an even higher mass of toxins.

You concentrated on this process for a few moments longer as the voice filled every inch, every cell in your brain, echoing in your ears, causing a stinging sensation to protrude through your eyes. Your laboured breaths began to still, just as you felt a burning sensation creeping up your spine, around your neck and into your throat, stopping you from inhaling further.

“Help!” You screamed, your voice muffled by something caught in your throat, holding onto your neck and doubling over, trying to release whatever had lodged itself at your diaphragm.

Your breath faltered as you gasped, the sound of crackling getting louder and louder, threatening to burst your eardrums. You got up from your position on your battered and purple-bruised knees and turned towards the loud, booming voice, your back painfully straight as you stood upright.

“Nobody is going to help you, Four,” the voice growled, seething with the same toxicity in the air surrounding you, sending a shiver down your spine. “You should know this by now.”

You rose from the ground slowly, cutting through the sharp air, your brows furrowing. Were you doing this to yourself, or was it somebody else? White rays of light from the lightning played and danced on your arms, creating a ridiculously beautiful scene through the darkness of the rest of this realm.

Through this cycle of Hell, all you could think about was the possibility of being able to escape. You casted a glance towards a clock hanging right in front of you, eye to eye with your reflection in the cracked glass, meeting your own chilling stare.

“I have been waiting for so long to meet you,” he said, his voice shrill, full of hatred and disgust.

The sudden noise forced your body to suddenly freeze up, crackling the pressure in your joints that had already had added pressure to them from floating against your own will. Slowly, you turned your head slightly to the right and towards the noise, his figure catching your eye as he emerged from the shadows, the lightning illuminating each and every tendril and vine covering his badly burnt body, every inch of his body covered except his deadpanned eyes.

He looked almost uncomfortable with your presence, …keeping his distance as he spoke to you with such force you were surprised his vocal chords hadn’t been fully ripped out yet. His cold gaze began to travel over your body, landing on your eyes, his rolling into the back of his head right after.

“What do you want from me?” Your voice rasped as you tried to exhale, choking on the three spores caught in your throat, cutting through your skin like the blade of a sharp knife.

You looked back down at the coffin beneath your levitating corpse, eyes widening as you watched four cloaked individuals place a lid on the coffin, over your slowly disintegrating corpse, a lid with your number engraved on top; in Roman numerals. IV.

The nickname Billy gave you.

Blood pumped through your veins rapidly as you took in the sight; your lifeless corpse covered up by a slab of stone, being dropped 6 feet under by the cloaked and masked individuals, your heart shattering when the grave began to become sealed over by the dead soil, roots and dried and shrivelled up leaves brushing over the surface.

“You should have joined One while you had the chance, Y/N.”

You bit back a quiet weep, watching the blood curdling, content look across his face. Frowning, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a loud, frustrated scream, and soon you fell to your bruised knees, the thoughts that had been infiltrating your mind vanishing upon impact.

“I really thought better of you, Y/N.” You noticed the familiarity in the way he talked, how he stood with his hands clasped in front of him.

He reminded you of Papa.

“All of those horrible thoughts in your mind… I can make them all go away. You just have to say the word.”

“No, you can’t help me.”

You rubbed at the area where the hooks would have been puncturing your skin if it had been your soul in that casket, your skin burning as the pads of your fingertips caressed the invisible wounds. You stared at him with fire in your eyes, studying the small sections of his blood-covered skin that the circulation hadn’t been cut off from, analyzing the way he blinked, the way his soft, deep blue eyes contrasted with the rest of his being.

Something about him also looked… familiar. Even his presence made you feel at home in your jail cell. But the only three other people to ever be in your cell were Papa, Dr Owens and Peter Ballard.

He let out a contented sigh, now studying your own face for some kind of ammunition. He beckoned something in the shadows to reveal itself with a long, pointed finger, and soon somebody took a place beside him with her arm dangling by her sides, a stern look on her face, her other arm out in front of her keeping you floating in the air.

“Four.”

“Eleven,” you scowled, glaring at the hazel eyed girl.

Eleven rolled her eyes and took a step towards you, her eyes catching your gaze in the dim lights of the lightning above you. You watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she closed her eyes, hearing her let out a sigh. “If you stayed in your room like Papa asked you to that day and didn’t go after One, none of this would have happened. You would be alive. I would be alive. Everybody in Hawkins who has died would still be alive. And it’s your fault that they are not.”

She studied you for a second to see a reaction, the black veins appearing on her neck adding to your growing concern. They looked the same as Billy’s, except more prominent, stronger than before. And something different; blood trickling down her face from her eyes and nose like a waterfall, cursed by the underworld.

“No, you know that’s not true,” you stated, your voice calm and convincing to a normal person, but to Eleven the fragile statement had more ammunition to taunt you.

Soon she also began to levitate, coming to your level to stand eye to eye with you, her hazel eyes burning into yours as if hot, melted candle wax had been poured onto your face. But you couldn’t feel it. Just the sensation created in your mind.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, Four,” she continued. “You can join us like you said you would.”

“Who is this, Eleven?” Your voice shook, riddled with undeniable nerves and confusion.

“A friend.”

Papa never allowed you to have any real friends. Why would he allow Eleven to? Special treatment, you supposed.

You sighed, closing your eyes, attempting to block out the endless taunting from Eleven and her “friend”, concentrating on trying to get yourself back on your feet on the ground no matter how much energy and power it took. You didn’t care about how you looked, rubbing your temples, anticipation rushing through you as you felt yourself starting to lower to the ground.

As your bare feet made contact with the ground, a throbbing sensation began to grow in your head. You hid your face in the palms of your hands, your fingers brushing the soft hair on your buzzed head instinctively as Eleven came to kneel next to you.

You sat down next to her, curling up into a ball, a concealed smile on your face. Make them think you’re weak, then strike. They won’t see it coming.

Eleven gently put her hand on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, making you lift your head up to look at her, her calm voice almost startling you. “We will not hurt you, Four.”

We will not hurt you, Four.

How come she didn’t say it when she threw you against a wall, crushing the bones in your right forearm? How come she didn’t utter those words when she fucked with your mind and made you ruin Six’s red block tower? And afterwards when you were sent to electroshock therapy, that little smile on her face told you she didn’t mean a word she said.

“I don’t feel like I belong here, Eleven,” you sniffled, wiping your dry cheeks beneath your eyes. “I don’t belong anywhere. I didn’t even feel right in the lab.”

It was true. There is no denying that. Sitting in your little jail cell with your mentally abusive thoughts, screaming at nothing, just wanting the voices to get out of your head. Wanting, waiting for one of the other test subjects to be so done with you that they just finish the job then and there, suffering consequences, but nothing as bad as being held captive in your own mind.

“What did it feel like when you were brought here?” She asked, avoiding reacting to your statement altogether, switching her position to kneel in front of you.

Pain. Undeniable, excruciating, never ending pain. The feeling of falling like that without dying being something you never wanted to experience ever again. The abysmal sound of police sirens surrounding that burning, broken down car and the sound of screaming filling your eardrums… The mall bursting into flames behind the blue Camaro…

Your body falling through the abyss and heavily to the ground, your bones on the brink of shattering, the blood on your left side. And then seeing Billy Hargrove for the first time; the first boy who ever kissed you, ten minutes ago…

“All I felt was pain— Why are you asking me this?”

“You need to heal, Four. Let us help you,” the entity said, taking his stance next to Eleven.

You decided you were going to dub this entity as Papa, because the way he carried himself was way too similar to be just a coincidence. Maybe this happened when he was attacked by that tall monster with a face like a flower, covered in teeth, blood and a slimy residue.

Eleven took your hands in hers, and the entity rested a hand on your shoulder, the slimy substance trickling down your arm. The familiarity of this act, the uncanny way he stood, it became too much. This… creature couldn’t be Papa. No.

Papa was dead.

But so were you.

Having no idea what to believe anymore, you leaned into their touches, letting Eleven caress the side of your face with her knuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips.

An angel kiss or a Judas kiss. An act of genuine intentions, or intentions disguised as genuine, careful but cunning. You couldn’t tell, and/or were too tired to even care. The latter seemed more likely.

The events of the identification of hostile forces and subsequent execution directly before the prediction of betrayal and the prediction of death. But you had already died.

So somebody else was going to die, and the blood would be on your hands.

Was it going to be Eleven who would take somebody else’s life? Was it the entity?

You gasped when her lips met yours, and you slowly let your eyelids flutter shut, the sensation of strong hands running up and down your body returning as lips caught yours in a kiss. Arms weaving around your waist and another scratching the nape of your neck lightly, reminiscent of the way Billy had done. A betraying tear quickly left your tear ducts, staining your left cheek; you couldn’t join Eleven and Papa.

The kiss reminded you that there was somebody else out there that needed your help more than ever. All alone in the wilderness, or another part of the Upside Down. You didn’t want to have to think of all of the bad things he must be going through right now, but part of you, most of you, wanted to make sure that he was okay.

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t feel the visions of Eleven and this creature that had been tormenting you vanishing, leaving you in an abyss; pure darkness.

Perfect, one step closer to locating Billy’s whereabouts.

You had only ever successfully entered somebody’s mind once. Two’s. And that place was even darker, even scarier, more horrid than your own jail cell. You promised yourself you would never do it again, but it was your only hope.

An unfamiliar scent filled your nostrils; dancing around your throat, overpowering your senses. Too much of this could potentially mess with your powers and you hated it. Grease and oil and the smell of warmth mixed with something sweet, something savoury, and something that smelled like the earth.

You turned your head to the side, noticing something odd. You were not in Billy’s mind, nor your own. But a little girl’s mind, full of precious memories; good and bad. Maybe mentioned by one of you previously.

Maybe she would be your saviour if you could get through to her.

Your mind threw a picture at you, like a memory, but one you didn’t remember; you, laying in the devil’s arms as a baby, and you felt a blush creeping onto your stained cheeks. You looked at the young girl, grazing your bottom lip between your teeth in thought, trying to figure out what she could possibly have to tell you, and how on Earth she landed in your memories. This little redhead girl you had never met before, sitting with her legs crossed in front of a grave, wiping underneath her eyes with the sleeves of her oversized denim jacket.

“Poor girl,” you mumbled under your breath, watching with soft, concerned eyes as she picked up a piece of paper with shaky hands.

You took a step closer to her. Now you could see the different shades of red in her fiery hair, the yellow details pinned to the blue denim jacket, the yellow scrunchie holding her hair back in a low ponytail. She flinched a little as you sat down next to her, mirroring the way she had been sitting, sitting opposite her as she read from the paper.

Could she feel your presence?

Her tears sparkled in the light as she read, continuing to wipe underneath her eyes with the sleeves of the denim jacket she had been wearing.

Breath hitched in your throat, catching in your windpipes as you read the words engraved on the headstone, sounding out each letter as that was all Papa had taught you how to do. The bare minimum.

WILLIAM HARGROVE.

BORN MARCH 29 1967.

DIED JULY 4 1985.

MAY HE REST IN PEACE.

With no time to process this, you stopped in your tracks upon hearing the little redhead begin to speak, this time her voice loud and clear in your mind.

“Dear Billy…”

Billy. Billy Hargrove. William… Hargrove... Was Billy a nickname?

And was this little girl… a relation? A friend? A stranger who saw his untimely death occur and just wanted to pay her respects? Billy died. He did die. He felt it himself. But somehow he was still alive. Still breathing.

However, you wanted to find Billy’s soul, not his slowly rotting corpse. But if his soul was out of the Upside Down, which wasn’t likely, his corpse would have followed it. He would have had to enter back in some way, the way Chrissy Cunningham did in the Munson’s trailer in the overworld.

A shaky breath left your lips as you read the letter, familiar words popping up on the pages:

Torture.

Death.

Blood.

Sorrow.

Hitting.

Sacrifice.

“Sacrifice,” you repeated, images of fingers curling around your neck circling your mind, squeezing your brain, drawing blood to your nose and eyes. Choking on the spores in the air of the other realm, cutting into your throat, letting the last of your life wither away from the inside out.

You covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your screams, tears running down from your reddened eyes, down your blotchy cheeks, dropping onto your shaking hand.

“…love your shitty little sister, Max.”

Sister? Max? Why did these people have names and you did not?

Another uneven breath left your lips as you gasped, stepping backwards into a small puddle of water, slipping on the wet surface and landing hard on your back.

You placed one hand either side of you and slowly got to your feet, holding your hands out in front of you to balance yourself. Taking one step forward, and then another, slipping like Bambi on ice, yet staying put on your feet.

Your footsteps echoed against the dark, wet surface, feet slapping against the water and the columns protruding from the ground as you stood up, slowly moving closer to the headstone.The ripped fabric of your gown followed, flowing behind you in time with your steps, the blood-soaked fabric slapping against the back of your legs.

You looked down to find yourself holding a blood-soaked shirt in your hands. Scarlet before the blood, crimson dripping down your arms and onto the hard surface beneath your feet, mixing with the water. Pink water lapped at your feet, brushing over your skin as you walked.

Now standing opposite the grave in front of ‘Max’, you knelt, your battered and bruised knees burning upon contact with the water, making you hiss. Tears began welling in your eyes as you placed a hand on the cold, damp stone, listening to the little girl’s sobs.

You painfully turned around on your knees to face her, your skin prickling with a million goosebumps as you did so. You inhaled a sharp breath, just as you extended your arms out to take Max’s hands in yours, giving her emotionless masked face a studying look.

She flinched as you placed her hands between yours, lifting them up to press a kiss to both of the palms of her hands.

“Max?” You whispered, watching her eyes dart around the surrounding area you could not see. “Max. Please nod if you can hear me.”

She glided her gaze slowly from your face to the tips of your blood-stained fingertips, down your hospital gown, across the thousands of cuts. Her intense, glazed eyes caused the hairs on your arms to stand on end, her gaze somehow crawling under your skin.

Her head stayed still for a moment, eyes locked with yours. The dead look in her eyes was an uncomfortable sensation to your skin, the look playing with fire, burning your cells as the hair on your arms and the back of your neck bristled. And you only wished for one thing during that moment; get the hell out of here.

“Four,” a familiar voice whispered, spitting your name out as if it were venom. Poisonous enough even he couldn’t handle it. “What are you doing?”

“I am helping Max.”

He chuckled darkly under his breath, coming to sit down next to you with his legs crossed, the same cuts and bruises on his arms, legs and bare chest. “Max wanted me to die, Y/N. These are fake tears, you see. Don’t help her.”

Run for your life, Max. You don’t need to be here right now. Go. Go now.

Max didn’t budge from her place opposite you and Billy, who somehow landed in Max’s mind. Could he enter minds too? Did he have powers? Why was he not captured by Papa?

“I have been waiting to hear those words, Max. Waiting so very long. But what you said wasn’t the full truth, was it, Max?” He asked, his voice deeper than usual, raspier. He sounded… wrong. “You know, I think there’s a part of you buried somewhere deep, that wanted me to die that day. That was maybe even… relieved. Maybe even happy.”

“Billy, no, that’s not true. I wouldn’t—!”

Suddenly, both Billy and Max vanished, and you were left with the fading sound of Billy laughing and Max screaming.

Oh.

Oh no.

That monster wasn’t trying to save me.

You panted as Eleven pulled away, smiling as much as she could muster, fake written all over her pretty face. Looking down at your hands the shirt was gone, but the blood remained, trickling out of your nose, mouth, eyes and ears.

Why?

Why did you do this?

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #billy hargrove #steve harrington #angst #stranger things angst #fruity four #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #angsty #no fluff sorry #no fluff #i have been screaming about this for days now i’m so sorry

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tuhhadkeryo · 11 months

Note

Hello, I'm here for the Hacker hair hcs, please. Do you think he's always worn a wig? Do you hc his natural hair color is diff? Blonde like when he took the Ring of Radopolis?

Hiya! Any Hacker hcs are welcome and I’m dyin’ to talk ab his hair. So here they are + some doodles :3

I think he used to have hair when he was younger, but when he lost his power he lost his locks with it! Kind of like accelerated aging. That’s a whole other story so I’ll stick with his hair for now.

Young Hacker loved the smooth, effortless, dashing slicked back style of the 50s.

Of course, as is everything else in the universe, his hair seems to be against him - coarse, doesn’t hold volume well, and is straight with the exception of a tiny bit of wave near the ends. So he got it cut into a well blended, layered/mullet style so he could carefully gel, tease, and blow dry it into that coveted 50s style. (With a dash of cyberspace trends too ofc ✨👌)

When he lost his power, it was a few days before his body started suffering real, shocking consequences and his hair fell out in his hands in chunks. Quite traumatic for him and he despises every moment that he’s forced to wear a wig instead, especially after all the time and effort he put into his hair.

His wig he keeps in a more severe, slicked back look, perhaps more fitting for his villainous aura. In order to keep every strand out of his face and looking good, he uses his own brand of wig gel to both give it shine and keep the style in hold.

Hacker has a difficult time embracing his hair by itself, mostly because it was basically the opposite of what he wanted - straight, coarse, flat, and medium thickness. If he didn’t know how to take the best care of it (he didn’t) it could get oily easily and stringy. Very boring, to him. He does everything he can to change it, using products galore or various methods to get it looking the way he wants in the morning. (Messy hair 👇)

To him, throwing product after product and over brushing and overall damaging the hair is perfectly normal and he would find it very difficult to believe that somebody like Slider can wake up, shake their head, and continue on their day.

His hair def looks perfect when he’s fixed it up, but who could tell differently with basically glue to keep it in place and slime to give it shine? Very much fake and sculpted into that beauty standard.

At night time he’ll drag a comb through it, scraping out all the shit collected in between the hairs, and underneath is a frizzy, damaged wig. He just thinks that’s how it goes to get the hair you want and it’s infused into his daily routine.

Truthfully, Hacker’s a sad case of ignorance and arrogance about hair products and embracing one’s hair texture. If he learned somewhere to take care of his hair it’d probably be shiny, more wavy (coconut oil yo), thick, and coarse. You know, rock the right styles or stick with the slicked back look - either would work. And after getting his wig, if he ever got his power back and therefore his hair, I don’t think this would be too far off from his search history. And if he did figure this out, he’d probably be much happier with it. Although I’m pretty sure he’d be happy with any hair after his baldness’s XD

Which brings me to his wish - to have a head of hair of his own. His dream style.

Thick, voluptuous, soft, wavy, lightweight, voluminous, blonde…

And of course you might’ve wondered before, ‘well, why not get a wig with all that?’

It’s his own hair of course! Effortless! He doesn’t have to do anything to fight with it or change it, simply maintain! And it’s *his*. Not a bought wig which bruises his ego.

For his natural hair color - I think it’s black due to his black eyebrows, and examples of black body hair animated in the show. Blonde is possibly a color he lusted after for a long time, or maybe just a whim of the day.

It’d be interesting if blonde was his natural hair color though - fun design!

Aaaand a random mustachioed Hacker

Thanks sm for the ask!! I hope it was good for ya

Sometime I’ll do a finished pic of Hacker wearing longer hair or something, bc I like hair :D

#cyberchase #cyberchase fanart #art #hacker #asks #yummyhair #hcs #doodles

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okthatsgreat · 4 months

Note

An odd sort of situation to put your ocs in but how would they handle being the 'face' of Danganronpa like Makoto and Junko, with all the burdens this entails. I don't know how to justify it, maybe they got so popular that Team Danganronpa decided to add them as a mascot, or it's an au where their season was the first and they were the main character.

everytime i get an ask like this i hop out of my chair and start busting it down peanuts style i hope you know this

I'LL DO IT FROM MOST LIKELY TO SUCCEED TO LEAST LIKELY!!!!!!!! plus i will talk a LOT because oruughugr pr and how danganronpa is perceived by a general audience is so so important to me in this au i loveeeee just how fucking awful and dystopian it is it is so fun to write.

for anybody who doesnt know a lot of my writing centres around a post-game universe where danganronpa is an extremely successful company worth billions, and ALL former participants are expected to remain "in character" for pr reasons so the company can continue to shill them as products essentially. think of it like an extremely popular disney movie, except all of the characters are actually real people who do not get treated as such, most if not all of them have horrific emotional and physical trauma from participating in a killing game simulation, most of them are not the age they are actually SUPPOSED to be, and the movie has been rebooted more than 50 times until it is extremely watered down and repetitive. imagine you are sixteen years old recovering from an extremely painful execution and having nightmares constantly only to have to wake up in the morning and greet a hundred pr people who are going to make a tiktok of you. i would go a little crazy

MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO HANDLE THE PRESSURE OF BEING THE FACE OF THE COMPANY:

• rie: now i should start this off by saying that this will in no way shape or form be GOOD for her. like nobody on this list is going to reap any benefits from being the face of the company and constantly expected to perform. but rie is somebody who has become very accustomed to performance and PEOPLE PLEASING. she already is one of the main spokespeople of her season in most post game settings, just because she is extremely articulate and knows when to agree or disagree!! now she IS unfortunately going to have to endure fan service to an extreme degree just by virtue of being this beautiful person whose brand centres around her beauty and charm and years down the line she is ABSOLUTELY going to crack. like anybody in this position is eventually going to crack (even makoto). but until then she'll last a LONG WHILE. i can definitely see her being well liked early on but dividing a lot of the fanbase way down the line, like twitter changes their minds on her every other week LMAOOO. she has to be SO fucking careful what she says because everybody is out to get her ass. one part of twitter thinks shes a boring fanservice nothing character, another part of twitter thinks shes snobby and stuck up, another part of twitter thinks she is the most angelic person on the planet who couldnt possibly do any wrong or have any flaws as a teenage girl. rie yawned at a convention once because she didnt get any sleep the night prior and she got cancelled online the next day

• erin: another girl with identity issues YAY!!!!!! team danganronpa would definitely make her stay as pippy (which they already kinda do in a postgame setting), but this time to the WAY extreme. she is NOT allowed to call herself erin. ALL of her clothes are to be on brand for pippy, including any pajamas in case paparazzi snap a photo through her window. also because of the paparazzi, pippy needs to be smiling AT ALL TIMES NO STOPPING, because even a neutral expression implies that she is not enjoying herself and team dr can NOT have their main star suggesting they are unhappy. erin is somebody who has been trained from an extremely young age to be a commodity and performer, and being in this position would likely get rid of any chance of her truly being erin ever again. her brain would flick into survival mode and it would likely be permanent at that point. what is also awful about erin being the face of the company is the fact that her talent is so targetted towards children that there is not a doubt in my mind she would be used SPECIFICALLY to advertise to that audience. it would kill what was left of her honestly. most of her days are likely filled with her looking over a crowd of young and hopeful teenagers looking to audition for their favorite show, and instead of warning them of the absolute hell that is about to arrive she instead has to wave her arms and go hi hi it's me pippy!!!!!!! im so happy to be here and im so happy to have joined danganronpa!!!!!!!! YOU SHOULD ALL DO IT TOO!!!!!!!!

• yoshito: he would not have a good time, and he is NOT prepared for pr as he had grown up being a very "behind the scenes" kinda guy. but yoshito is a hard worker and he knows what would happen to him and those he cares about if he gives up now. because he is another "hope guy" and his character is supposed to mirror the watered-down traits of makoto, yoshito likely would experience a very similar situation to makoto in that he needs to keep up this hope act as long as he possibly can. he is no longer yoshito sawa, he is an idea. a concept. he represents one side of the hope vs despair argument. who cares about nuance-- not team danganronpa, not the audience, and certainly not yoshito anymore!!!! i can see him dividing the fanbase, not as extremely as rie but there are definitely a few arguments about him being a bland cookie cutter character

• ryobe: as the antagonist of his season, ryobe would be shoved into box IMMEDIATELY. he is already a """performer""" in a way, but not to the extent of rie or erin where he is instantly good at lying and playing his part. for the first few years he would really struggle to stay within the boundaries of what team dr is telling him to do, because ryobe is a guilty ass guy who feels TERRIBLE for that simulator and is genuinely trying to become a better person. but NOPE! he no longer gets to grow up. he needs to stay goofy and arrogant and reckless forever, for every new season he makes a cameo in and every press conference he does forevermore. similar to erin i think he would definitely lose himself in the character to the point where he struggles to truly identify who he actually is and who danganronpa is trying to get him to be. even worse i can really see the audience LOVING him to the point where he's had to change addresses like three times

• sae: she can be a leader when she needs to be but she is far from the most charismatic person alive, not to mention she will NEVERRR adapt to the fast paced environment that team dr calls for. sae is built on independence-- she knows how to be a captain when necessary but she is a fairly private person who thrives in silence. she is wise and very patient, but even she is going to reach an extremely fast boiling point and start yelling LMAO. the internet would HATTEEE how slowly he gives speeches, how long he seems to drawl on, how he doesn't exactly look the part of all of the other dr women they've seen for years prior, etc etc. she'd take it all on the shoulder if it means lessening the burden for the rest of her class but eventually she snaps, starts screaming loudly at a fan during a press conference, and her whole career plummets from there GFDJGD. and honestly it might be for the best. she would suffer severe consequences absolutely, and team dr would likely try to get her to do press stuff again, but she would be left alone far more often

• billie: she's young as hell, an extremely insecure teenager, and is absolutely NOT a leader in any way shape or form. her first few speeches in front of a crowd will have everybody on the planet wondering why the fuck they even chose her to be the spokeswoman in the first place BHFDSJGFD. however i have her above mika and naomi because i really think she mightttt be able to adapt. if shes one of the very first danganronpa participants ever and has to basically pioneer this role for herself (like makoto and junko did) then oh god no she's gonna fail hard and her mental health is immediately going down the drain. but if she had some kind of mentor, she MIGHT be able to make it. i really think there is a universe where she grows into it. now this doesnt mean she ENJOYS it, and she is going to seriously struggle with her anxiety and depression regardless, but she might be able to adapt just enough to survive. i can not imagine team dr ever letting her speak for them so its a little hard to say what they would possibly be asking her to do LMFAO, i guess they would try to keep her as relatable as possible? her clothes would be selected by a stylist and she would have zero creative freedom anymore. similar situation to ibuki where her style would change with the trends to fit what is "alternative" that year. billie would become this relatable moody teenager that a lot of teen girls can project onto, and team dr would NEVERRR let her grow up, which is frankly her worst nightmare

• mika: the only reason she is this far down is because she would hate the role she's been shoved into SO badly it would honestly tank her career. because she would JUST be the love interest and that is it lmfao. no ultimate talent for anybody to latch onto, no big ideal she could represent (as she was far from the most hopeful/despairing person in that class). mika would be allocated to yoshitos love interest and she actually for real would go crazy about it because COME ONNNN. similar situation to sonia i reckon where team dr wont actually CONFIRM any sort of relationship, just so her "options are open" and fans can speculate about who she's going to get with and all of that. two months in and mika would punch a guy FHJDKG. she reads none of the speeches provided to her if they mention anything about yoshito. she spirals in the dressing room and then refuses to walk out on stage. normally she is so good at making rational decisions, like she KNOWS it would be smarter for her to just go along with the company, but in this specific instance i really can not see her lasting for long under this serious amount of pressure from the company and millions of fans. team dr would hate her, most fans would hate her, and she would be keeping herself alive by a hair. mika in a postgame setting is very usually standing behind yoshito and using him as a shield rather than taking the spotlight for herself, and for good reason

• naomi: i think ive briefly mentioned this before in the ask blog but naomi is not in any kind of mental space to be in front of a camera or a large crowd of people lol!!!!!!!!!! in postgame settings she is very rarely seen at large gatherings, and if she IS she leaves early because team dr knows her very well at this point and they are not willing to let her fuck things up again lmfao. naomi as the face of the company would spell immediate disaster. she can't handle the pressure, she's never had so many eyes on her at one time and would become even more paranoid than she usually is, she would struggle to talk and make speeches honestly to the point where she goes nonverbal, she would act weird and flighty, twitter would hate her ass immediately, etc etc. i can't see her adapting or getting better at being a spokesperson, i truly honestly just think she would suck so hard hgfdjksgf. its adapt or die and brother she is dying

andi would kill everybody and then itself

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS IS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#ask lee #anonymous #kicking my feet giggling My Ocs............................#dr: 50th #oc: sae #oc: billie #oc: andi

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