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imaginarypasta · 1 year

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this is gonna be some really ramble-y thoughts on immortality (and its implications for khaenriah) in genshin

bc i was thinking about how dissatisfied i was by how when characters are paired up (e.g., in their lore or friendships or associations) it’s really often along immortal-mortal lines. because i just personally don’t really find immortal-immortal relationships particularly interesting just generally speaking (removes a lot of (emotional) urgency, takes away potentially interesting questions about humanity and mortality, etc. just ultimately isn’t the kind of story i like to hear) (and specifically i was a bit disappointed in how that manifests in wanderer’s story although that doesn’t actually end up being that relevant to what i’m gonna say) so i find it quite difficult to really be interested by those characters or dynamics

however, despite this angle, i think that such insistences, however subtle they may be, actually do something really interesting for khaenriahns specifically. that is, if immortal characters are constantly being paired up with one another, it creates a divide between them and mortal characters. not necessarily an antagonistic one, but at least one where humanity (broadly speaking) is defined specifically by mortality. that is, it’s defined against immortals (versus how we might otherwise define it against, say, plants or animals, or in other genres, even something like aliens or robots). which is to say it fits with its own genre, yes, but also that that is just a question i enjoy.

it seems to me as though this isn’t a teyvat-specific belief as it would be applied to khaenriahns (otherwise, why would they be cursed w/ immortality (in part)? like, it would just be sort of random. which like sure maybe you could say something like it wasn’t how they were defining themselves and it was a teyvat-specific idea to implement on them through the curse. but honestly that seems convoluted and, while interesting, not something i’m going to explore here). that is, their curse is specifically meant to target this defining characteristic of their humanity, which is in turn a defining characteristic of their identities (both personal and national). in short, the use of this dichotomy works really nicely with khaenriah’s lore imo.

and i think this was very surprising to me to realize because if khaenriah is also determined by its alchemy, this definition of themselves against immortality is really surprising! for a very long time, i was expecting the thread of alchemy and thus longevity in life to play a role in their story, but not at all like this--perhaps something they were searching for, something they found and were punished for finding it because it made them too powerful, overall just something they wanted.

but then like, if it’s not, how were they defining death and by extension life? what implications does this have for how they were interacting with the world?

but also, what were their goals with alchemy? because in my head, the main goal is generally understood to be immortality. which if you remove, why were they doing it? i’m also familiar with spontaneous generation as a major goal, but it also seems like they already got there (or at least some of them did). so maybe i’m totally blowing their thing with alchemy out of proportion. maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as i’m thinking of it as. or it opens up alchemy to a number of different purposes.

#personal #and i have toyed with their relationship to the abyss (study? enemy? both? etc?) as a potential angle #and i do think their view of like... idk community? relationships? is certainly curious #both in how it interacted with other nations but also like w/i khaenriah itself #um which maybe im putting too much emphasis on my very specific view of the abyss order's/alberich clan's goals #(sorry! i love them and also they make up a good number of khaenriahns we know so)#(which is like... it kind of seems like they want to help everyone else if they found some sort of cure for themselves? but also maybe im #not reading that correctly/in a generally approved on way)#also like. it's been a little bit since i've played the game and i need to catch up and remember actual things abt it #so pls take everything im chewing on rn w a grain of salt #i might not be chewing on it again in a few months. yk #tldr is. i like how the lore complements their curse. and i’m curious abt what such a definition implies for them

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goldieclaws · 2 years

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starts a short-story webcomic for funzies~

#in case you're curious i have 15 projects i want to work on #17 if you count the two in 'limbo'#goldie speaks #take this page with a grain of salt tho bc I'm VERY particular about having backlogs as a safety net #and I'm currently trying to focus on my written stories as for me personally #writing is easier in a way than drawing #the wyrm king #sorry i have so many projects do u still think I'm hot 👉👈#thankfully i know I can finish a project since i made a visual novel all by myself so #it took over a year but it was still finished #rn i got a short and long novel I'm working on i want to finish first #as well as the unity game im working on with my bf #the unity game is a little bit slower to make than the short novel so that's first rn #SORRY TO RAMBLE these are all products of like. me writing an AU. then making an original story out of said AU #then making ANOTHER story out of a small comment or scene from one of my pre-existing stories #also yes i have an excel sheet for all these projects hfdjkgfdg

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reystenius-01 · 28 days

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Sweet and Sour

Summary: Alexia comes home from that game to a sick reader. Comfort and fluff ensues.

(okay theres a bit of angst as well, i couldn't help myself, im sorry 😭)

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Alexia didn’t know whether to cry, to yell, or to hurl a water bottle against the nearest surface. They had lost. Barça had lost. Their first defeat of the season could not have come at a more dangerous time, in the first leg of the Champions League Semi-Final.

It was their first home defeat in five years, as well.

And to add salt to the wound, you weren’t around. You weren’t at the game today. You were at home, incredibly ill to the point where looking at a screen hurt your brain. You weren’t there for Alexia to cling onto, to reassure her that everything would come up blaugrana at the end of the day.

At least, though, you were at home, getting better for the second leg. You’d save them, Alexia told herself, as she applauded the fans for coming and attending. The fans deserved better than whatever the hell that performance was out there.

God, it kept replaying in her head. That miss. That fucking miss.

She could’ve levelled it, put her team on some somewhat stable ground for the away leg at Stamford Bridge. A part of her shattered when that ball went wide, it took majority of her willpower to get right back up afterwards.

The little head-slaps she usually gave Vicky were lighter now, only just. As much as Alexia would love to give Jona a piece of her mind (she’d do that tomorrow at the latest), you were waiting for her at home.

The mere thought nearly brought her to her knees.

Though she knew that you would understand, that you would be the usual radiating beam of positivity that you always were despite feeling like you got hit by a truck, a part of her feared that you’d be disappointed, not just of the team, but of her.

Alexia was brought out of her thoughts as Jona walked into the locker room. The usual post-match speeches were given, but a chunk of Alexia’s brain was just all mush after that game. It was mostly a blur, and she could hardly remember what she had said in her own speech. Thankfully, she didn’t need to do media. The last thing she needed right now, especially in her current headspace, was for some reporters trying to bait her into making a scathing comment.

She wanted to go home to you. And at the same time, she didn’t.

The team bus was mostly silent on the way back to the training ground, a few of the girls conversing in hushed tones, some faint music coming from the back of the bus. Alexia hadn’t texted you yet. You needed the sleep, so you could get better and get back to the team.

Salma’s head was on her shoulder, the girl having fallen asleep a few minutes into the bus ride. Alexia’s heart went out to the girl, and she had encouraged her to keep her head up.

The minutes went by like a blur, and before Alexia knew it, they were back at the training ground. The radio played faintly in her car as she drove back to your shared home, making a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up your antibiotics, since the pharmacist had called her to let her know that your required dose for tonight was ready.

The first thing Alexia noticed when she got home was the smell of soup. You must’ve made some boxed instant soup or something, her thoughts confirmed when she saw the box and the seasoning packets. There was still some soup left in the pot on the stove. Well, there was dinner sorted.

She set the bag from the pharmacy down on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs to check on you. She quietly entered the bedroom, and saw you curled up in bed, your breathing steady and peaceful. She smiled softly, grateful to see you resting. You could be a little stubborn at times.

Carefully, she approached the bed and sat down beside you, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, also gently holding her hand against your forehead to check on your fever. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad anymore.

“Hey, amor,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I’m home.”

You stirred slightly, blinking sleepily as you looked up at her. “Hey, pretty girl,” you murmured, clearing your throat and sitting up a bit so you could lean against the headboard. “How are you? How was the game?”

Alexia hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. She didn't want to disappoint you with the loss, especially when you were just starting to feel better.

“It was... challenging,” she said finally, hating how small she sounded. “But you know how it is. Win some, lose some.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in your eyes. You knew your girlfriend the same way you knew how to breathe. There was no way she’d ever use the words ‘win some, lose some’ to describe a game, especially a Champions League semi-final, at home no less.

You studied her for a moment, your eyes searching her face. “Lex, what's wrong?” you asked gently, sensing her reluctance to talk about it.

Alexia hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of her missed chance, chewing a little on the inside of her cheek. “I... I had a chance to level the score,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I missed.”

Your heart broke then and there, not because of the loss at all. Your girlfriend, the Alexia Putellas and the two-time Ballon D’or winner looked so… small in front of you. Your expression softened with understanding, and you reached out to take her hand in yours. “Hey, it's okay,” you said soothingly, your voice filled with reassurance. “That’s football, love.”

Alexia noticed you shift closer to her a bit, your thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. You were keeping your distance a bit, not wanting to get your girlfriend sick, even more so now.

“But it was such an important game,” Alexia said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I let everyone down.”

You shook your head, gently squeezing her hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Lex. You gave it your all out there, and that's all anyone can ask for. We win and lose as a team,” Alexia wasn’t looking at you, but you were looking at her, studying her. You could see her biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying in front of you. “Mi vida, mírame.”

Alexia nibbled on her lip some more, before shaking her head. Your hand left hers, reaching up to gently hold her chin and encourage her to look at you. “Ale, mi niña bonita. Please look at me.”

She let you turn her face to face yours, and your thumb immediately reaching up to wipe away the tears that were escaping the corners of those gorgeous hazel eyes.

Your heart ached for her. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, and it pained you to see her so torn up over the match. “Alexia, listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle as you wiped away her tears, albeit a little croaky as well. “You are so much more than just one missed chance. You are strong, talented, and resilient. And no matter what happens on the field, I am always going to be proud of you.”

Alexia's breath caught in her throat as she looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Don't apologise, amor,” you said softly, shaking your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Alexia shook her head, a shaky sigh escaping her lips. “I just... I hate feeling like I disappointed the team, the fans… and you.”

You reached out, cupping her cheek gently in your hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Ale,” you insisted, completely sure of what you were saying. “You're an incredible player and an amazing captain. And I couldn't be prouder of you–”

You doubled over, turning your head away to cough into your arm, your other hand patting your chest.

“Amor,” Alexia all but jumped to your side, hand rubbing your back despite you trying to keep her at a distance so that she didn’t get sick.

“I’m…” Another stream of coughs escaped you, and Alexia pulled away briefly to pour you a glass of water. “I’m fine, Ale, thank you.”

You accepted the glass, taking a few sips to soothe the irritation you felt in your throat, massaging it gently. “Maybe you should take some medicine,” she suggested, worry evident for your health.

“After this,” you set the glass on the bedside table, grabbing Alexia’s hands again and getting her to sit beside you. “It's okay to feel disappointed, Lex, but don't let one moment define you. You are capable of so much more than you realise, and I know you know that.”

Tears continued to stream down Alexia's cheeks, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I just want to make you proud,” she admitted, her voice slightly above a whisper, sounding more like herself now.

“Oh, bebita,” you murmured, your voice soft just like your smile as you bunched up your sleeve, wiping at Alexia’s cheeks. “You already make me proud every single day.”

Alexia sniffled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Even when I miss crucial chances in important games?”

“Even then,” you replied without hesitation, your gaze locked with hers. “Because you give your all out there, and you never give up. You always fight, and fight to make up for it.”

“You always know just what to say,” she whispered, a soft sigh escaping her as she looked at you.

“What can I say? I’m just so wise,” you replied, pulling a face, making Alexia chuckle and lightly shove your shoulder. “Hey, no bullying the weak and feeble!”

“You aren’t f-fuh–?” Alexia tried to copy your pronunciation, and with each attempt, your smile grew. “Amor!”

“What?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Just…” Alexia put her hands on your shoulders. “You’re not weak.”

“I know, mi amor, I know. You aren’t either,” you put one of your hands on top of one of hers, gently caressing her knuckles. “We’re still in it. We’ve been here before, no?” You looked at her knowingly, yet so softly and so full of love.

“Mhm,” she hummed, her smile getting bigger.

“We just need a bit of faith and trust. No matter what happens, win or lose, you’re one of the most amazing people in my life,” you reached out to run your hand through Alexia’s hair, still a bit damp from her post-match shower. “Want me to brush your hair?”

“I want you… to take your medicine,” Alexia said with a smile, and you groaned.

“Is it the tablets?”

Alexia pursed her lips as she stood up, stifling a smile as she held out her hands for you to help yourself up out of bed.

“Amor,” you whined, kicking your feet a little like a child being denied ice cream from a street vendor.

“Come on, my tough and pretty and sexy girl,” Alexia wiggled her fingers. “You can handle a few pills, lovely.”

“I told you that a few months ago, and you banished me to an air mattress on the floor because you didn’t want me catching whatever bug you had,” You held onto her hands, standing up. Alexia’s large hands patted your waist a little before holding you gently. It was an adorable habit of hers. “And then, you proceeded to beg for me to come to bed with you just because you couldn’t stand being apart from me for the night.”

“Come, come,” Alexia had a smile on her face as you went on your little rant, leading you down the stairs to your inevitable fate of having to ingest some pills. You hated the feeling of pills in your throat, even when you took them with water. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“Alexia, don’t be mean to me, I am ill,” you stopped at the bottom step, Alexia looking up at you slightly, tilting her head and smiling at the sight of you pouting.

You grumbled when she wrapped her arms around your waist and picked you up into her arms, begrudgingly wrapping your legs around her waist to hold onto her as she carried you into the kitchen, “Be careful, you played a rough half of football.”

Alexia glanced at you, brow furrowed. You weren’t supposed to be on your phone or any technology for that matter.

“Mapi called,” you smiled innocently, fingers scratching her scalp, the midfielder closing her eyes at the feeling briefly. “It’s been a while since she used short sentences.” Alexia winced. “Too soon, yep, sorry.”

“The doctor said you need to have three tablets–” Alexia braced herself for the mush of words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“Amor!”

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#woso community #barca femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso one shot #alexia x reader

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angel5ofp0rn · 12 days

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pt. 3 😋

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

THIS ONE IS KINDA SHORT. MORE FLUFF. IM SORRY BUT U & JOHN R JUS TOO CUTE.

* haven’t proofread either bc i’m supposed 2 be working heh 🫣

"Have you always kept wearing it? …or did you recently put it back on?" You turn John’s hand over in yours, referring to the wedding band he still wears.

"Had it off for a bit." John says now, running his thumb across the ring, not bothering to try to fight you to get his hand back. "Didn't last long. Didn't feel right."

You nod, a small hum of agreement.

You remember threatening to toss your ring down the garbage disposal when the two of you fought.

Damn thing's still in the jewelry box.

John keeps his eyes on the telly while you two sit together on the couch, still absentmindedly watching whatever bright, flashy cartoon the kids insisted on before they went down for a nap.

"Why didn't it work out with anyone else?"

You frown.

“There wasn’t anyone else.” You answer simply.

How could there be anyone else after him?

You see the corner of his lip twitch into a smirk.

“No one to pass the time? No one night stands? Nothing?”

You shrug. “A few.”

Only three, to be exact. None of which were memorable.

The admission made John’s stomach sink.

The thought of you being with anyone else, even for a short period of time, made him feel something in his stomach that he didn't recognize.

More than anger. More than jealousy.

"What about you?” You snap him out of his thoughts, his nearly homicidal daydream. “No woman could take their eyes off of you before, even when I was on your arm. I imagine it got easier." You stretch out a bit, attempting to make your question seem more nonchalant.

John chuckled softly, remembering all the stares he would get. The way other women would look at him.

The way you'd get mad about it, sometimes you’d even cry.

He doesn't admit it to you now, but part of him misses those moments, misses how much you cared.

"Can't say I didn't have any opportunities."

You stop playing with his ring for a bit, now holding your palms together, viewing how much larger his hand is than yours. "But...?"

John didn't exactly want to admit the truth, but he didn't see the point in lying right now.

After all, you'd admitted to having a one night stand here and there, so it would only be fair to admit the same.

"The other women made my ego feel good, but… just wasn’t you, lovey. Ended up thinking ‘bout you at the end of the night, anyway."

You roll your eyes.

He laughs.

Then it’s silent, just for a moment.

Just enough for the words to sink in.

It was the same for you, a void that just couldn't be filled by anyone else.

"Y’know, one time I dropped the kids off at your place for the weekend, and I saw a little hickey on your neck... I cried the whole drive back home." You blush, feeling silly about it now.

"Did you now?" John grins slightly, but he also felt something when you mentioned seeing the hickey.

It was stupid of him to have let anyone else leave any kind of mark like that on himself. He should've known you'd notice.

Maybe he had wanted you to notice, but Christ, he didn’t want you to cry.

John's hand parts from yours now, rubbing his hand over his facial hair.

Your head is resting on your fist, your elbow on the back of the couch; fully turned towards John.

You took in all the details.

His beard starting to shift from brown to more salt-and-pepper over the past few years.

His broad body, still just as sexy and strong as it was when you first met, but a little softer.

More “dad”.

His is same dreamy blue eyes (we get it already) that he blessed the kids with.

That mixed with his English accent makes you weak in the knees.

How are you supposed to just let him go back home in the morning?

Hell, how are you supposed to let him sleep on the couch tonight?

“What’s buggin’ ya?”

You shake your head a bit. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

"Thinkin’ of what, love?" He asks, leaning back into the cushions.

You chew your bottom lip.

John’s fingers brush a few stray locks away from your face, tucking them delicately behind your ear.

His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“No words, hm?”

“I… Should we really be doing this?”

“You wanna stop?” his thumb still brushes against your lower lip.

You shake your head ‘no’.

John has that familiar, stupid smirk on his face.

“I just don’t want to confuse the kids.”

“What’s confusing, hm? That mummy and daddy are happy together?” John counters.

Well, when he puts it that way…

“You’re happy, then?”

The moment you ask this, you now have his full focus. His eyes are on you, waiting for the answer to your question.

“Happier than I’ve been in, what… two years?” He answers, pulling you into his lap, his big strong arms wrapping around your waist.

You melt into him.

“Lemme come back to you, love.”

His husky voice is enough to make you agree to anything he says.

“I… need time, John. To think about things.”

“I’ll wait.” He nods.

His lips meet yours.

Of course you kiss him back. He has you.

You’re his.

He’s yours.

“Kissies?” Your youngest whispers to your oldest from the top of the stairs, looking down at mum and dad cuddled up on the couch.

“Kissies.” The oldest confirms with a curt head nod.

Nap time didn’t last long.

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https-florals · 10 days

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daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck.

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.”

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside.

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!”

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three).

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it.

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing.

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that.

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,”

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water.

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line.

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp.

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support.

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds.

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it.

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands.

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger.

It’s probably his favorite possession.

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand.

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue.

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his.

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash.

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand.

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine.

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head.

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut

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aakeysmash · 3 months

Text

Roommate or boss?

part 1, part 3, part 4

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: cursing, maybe a little bit of suggestive language.

Word count: 2079 words.

Having Katsuki as a roommate proved to be not that bad. He was almost never home apart from most evenings, and when he was home, he minded his own business.

It’s not like he didn’t acknowledge you to be under his same roof, he was a decent guy, even if he swore a lot.

After sleeping in the guest room for a month, he painted it like he said he would at the beginning, and it took him 3 days. He had to sleep on the couch to not inhale the fumes, and you heard him cursing every morning.

“Can you keep it down? Jeez, it’s 7 am” you say coming out of your room, having heard the commotion in the living room.

“You have to change this shit of a couch. My back hurts so fucking much. My feet don’t even fucking stay on the couch while I sleep ‘cause of how fucking small it is” he barks at you.

“Not my fault you’re big” you say yawning, while rubbing your eyes and going straight towards the coffee machine. You hated having early lectures.

He scoffs. You widen your eyes, shooting him a mean look.

“I meant to say you’re tall” you add.

“Huh? And what would even be the other meaning? Freak” he says flipping you off and sitting himself at the table.

“Whatever” you mumble, putting your coffee in a cup.

“Give me some” he says stretching his hand.

“Make it yourself, big guy” you reply, sticking your tongue out and going towards your own room.

“OI! And here I was about to make you breakfast in exchange” he loudly says.

You turn around and smile at him sweetly. “Roomieeee you didn’t have toooo” you say, trying to hug him.

You know he hates physical contact. He told you so after you accidentally touched his hand passing him the salt one day at dinner. He jumped out of his chair like he was burned by your touch.

“GET OFF OF ME YOU GREMLIN!”.

Meanwhile, things at work could be going better. Your manager came back the day after your talk with Kirishima, and saying that she was pissed off and nervous at the same time would be an understatement.

For the weeks after, she was nicer than she ever was with the clients, but meaner with you and your colleagues. Bitch.

One day you’re cleaning the milk machine when Momo comes behind you.

“I heard the boss came to know about her little escapades and he wasn’t happy” she whispers in your ear.

You throw her a sneaky look before admitting “it might be my fault”.

Momo gasps. “What? Why haven’t you told me anything?” she whisper yells now.

“Shh! It happened last month. You know the guy with the spikey red hair?” you ask her, and she nods.

“Apparently, he’s the boss’s right hand. He told me the boss needed her and I told him she left” you calmly explain.

“I hope she doesn’t come to know it was you who told him that. She’s already making our life a living hell” she sighs.

“Whatever” you say rolling your eyes. “I’m clocking out, see you tomorrow?”.

“As always, babe”.

While you’re going out, you shoot a text to your new roommate. You’re feeling lazy, but you don’t want to feel lazy alone.

You: ordering takeout right now. Do you want something?

Katsuki (roommate): who dis

You: Katsuki are you for real?

You: I’m your roommate

You: you didn’t even save my number?

Katsuki (roommate): wtv

Katsuki (roommate): get me wings

Katsuki (roommate): extra spicy

You: sorry, who’s this???

Katsuki (roommate): petty bitch

Katsuki (roommate): im locking the door

You: I’m calling the firefighters down the street and you’re gonna pay for the new door then

Katsuki (roommate): just get me fkn wings woman

You roll your eyes. This man is insufferable.

“What are you doing Saturday night?” you say while munching on your chips on the couch.

Katsuki is cooking dinner for the both of you. He’s been living with you for the past 4 months now. You’ve grown accustomed to his antics, and he’s done the same with yours. For example, he knew how you tended to overcook his eggs. And since he hated that, he cooked them himself, just like he was doing right now.

“Hopefully not seeing your ugly face” he grumbles. He watches you over his shoulder and puckers his lips. “Why are you so fucking disgusting? I always find crumbs of everything on that fucking couch”.

You roll your eyes. “Just answer the question, Bakugou”.

“Not gonna be home. I have to run errands at work. You bringing some scum over? I’m not cleaning stains on top of your shitty crumbs on that couch”.

He’s not paying attention to what you do anymore, cutting up vegetables.

“And I’m the disgusting one? Ew” you cringe. “Ochaco and I wanted to have girl’s night. It’s been a while since we’ve done that, but her roommates are at home”.

“Short girl, brown hair, round face?” He asks.

“Yeah”. You’re surprised he remembers, but it’s true that you’re basically always calling her.

“Don’t mind. When’s your next shift? You’re next on the “cleaning the bathroom” list”. He adds.

You barely ever talk about work: he said that he’s some type of accountant and he knows you’re some kind of barista. After all, you both don’t care about what the other does if you both still pay rent on time.

You like these little moments you have with him. They don’t happen that often, but it’s like you’re bonding over time. He doesn’t look like he thinks the same, though. Most of the time he voices that you’re “pissing him the fuck off with all your stupid fucking questions”.

“Tomorrow morning, and then on Sunday. It’s weird now that my ex-manager isn’t around anymore, our schedules are much more organised. I wonder why she got fired” you say thoughtful.

Katsuki stiffens up. Your manager has been fired the same week he fired Camie? Must be a coincidence, a lot of extras are shitty workers anyways. He shrugs it off.

He turns abruptly to face you and he scares you so bad you throw the chips in the bowl lying on your lap on your face. He laughs like a maniac.

“Why did you do that?! I get it, you’re a clean freak! Okay! I’ll clean the damn bathroom!” You angrily say.

“Curry is ready, rat” he says, wiping his tears.

“Great, now I’m a rat too?”. Katsuki has this bad habit of always forgetting names and just giving everyone mean nicknames.

“With all those cheese chips on your face? Yes, dumbass” and he starts laughing again.

“It’s all your fault!” you whine, and then help him set the table. You might be annoyed, but you know his curry is bomb.

You’re so happy to be free from Camie’s claws that you and Ochaco drink more than you normally do on Saturday night.

You’re both lying lazily on your bed when she’s telling you about her new boyfriend. He’s the same guy from that one physics assignment (which, by the way, you didn’t fail), and she calls him Deku.

“I swear you’d like him Y/N. He’s so shy, but his arms are so biteable” she dreamily sighs.

You look up at the ceiling before answering “and what’s the correlation between any of the statements you just made?”.

She throws you a punch. “Why are you lucid still? Just… blabber!” she complains.

You chuckle. “I’m so getting an aspirin for tomorrow morning, for both me and you. Just go under the covers and sleep while I’m gone, okay?”.

She nods and you stand up, wobbling towards your kitchen.

“You know, you still haven’t delved into how good or bad things are going with your new roommate” she suddenly says. “You know I need the details”.

You lean on the wall next to your door for some stability before thinking about it.

“He’s good, I guess. We talk here and there when we’re both home, he told me he’s enrolled in economy. He seems rough but he knows how to cook some bomb ass curry, so I’ll keep him” you sluggishly reply. Damn, you really drank too much.

“Yeah Y/N you’ve told me this much. But do you find him hot? Did any of you just enter the bathroom not knowing the other was in it?” your best friend mumbles.

“He locks the door before doing anything” you roll your eyes, then wince because it has hurt your head.

“He’s mean, but he takes the time to be a good roommate I guess? I’d like to know him more than he lets others know, yeah, but he’s not very talkative. To be honest, I think that he’s scared to let people in. I’m probably too invasive for him” you ramble on.

“Did you even hear what I said?” you ask after the silence stretches too long, but the only things replying to your question are your best friend’s snores.

You sigh, then continue going to your kitchen.

It takes a while for you to find the medicine, and when you do, you hear your front door being opened.

With your mind still hazy, you recognise Katsuki’s figure.

“Hi” you tell him.

“Hello? God, you reek. You’re becoming a rat more and more each day” he roughly says while getting his coat off and on the hanger.

“How was work?” you continue, ignoring his comment.

He looks you up and down. He thinks you look kinda cute with your cheeks tinted pink and your hair ruffled, but he’s really tired. “Good, mind your fucking business though. I’m gonna sleep”.

You look hurt for a second, then relax your features. He always answers this way.

You take a good look at him. The light that enters from the window behind your couch makes his face barely visible; with the moonlight as your only aid, you take a moment longer than usual to just stare at him. Broad, blonde, big shoulders, a light scowl on his face, red eyes that seem to follow your every move. Maybe, in his next life, he could be a hero.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, really pretty?” you stumble out.

He looks at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing ever.

“What the fuck are you saying? Just let me go to sleep and go do whatever the fuck you were doing before”.

“I said you look really fucking hot, Katsuki” you repeat, kind of annoyed. “It’s not like I asked you to cut your hand and offer your blood for a sacrifice, fuck. Why do you have to be so rude?” you spit out.

He’s surprised. “That’s not the words you used the first time. Pretty and hot don’t mean the same thing” he says, faking that he hasn’t heard your outburst, while stepping closer to you.

“Whatever” you mumble.

He stops in front of you. Maybe he’s been kind of rude lately because the situation at work hasn’t been the best. He fired Camie because he repeatedly heard she wasn’t capable of doing anything good on top of being mean to her colleagues, but finding another manager was stressing him out. He wanted to fire her as soon as he came to know her behaviour the first time, but Kirishima said neither of them had enough time to deal with her father. As much as this infuriated him, he was right. They were in their last year, and university wasn’t gonna finish itself.

You’re looking up at him with a scowl. “Let’s both go to sleep, m’kay? You don’t know what you’re saying” he says, nicer than any other time he talked to you. In the back of your mind, you notice he isn’t cursing anymore.

You keep on mumbling something and almost trip on your feet trying to get to your room.

You’re about to fall when he picks you up bridal style and goes to get you in your room himself.

Just before you fall asleep in his arms (how strong is he? He’s not even straining) you put your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks, sorry, I’m really drunk. I didn’t want to invade your privacy” you say.

He just shushes you up before telling you to sleep.

And just before you pass out, you notice he smells faintly like coffee.

#bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bnha #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou fic #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #and they were roommates #barista au

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riahollywood · 2 months

Text

missing you | christian pulisic

──────────────────────

notes: this has been in my drafts ever since we were blessed with the white compression shirt pics. basically just some filthy phone sex smut 🤭 enjoy ✨

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

the ache between her legs only became more prominent as her boyfriend shot a cheeky wink to his teammate, the compression shirt clinging deliciously to his defined abs as he walked over to envelope a couple of his teammates in a hug, celebrating their win.

a smile etched on y/n’s face as she rested her head back against the soft headboard, sitting up slightly on her and christian’s shared bed.

her lips dropped into a pout as the tv footage cut away from christian and his team, the opposing team manager appearing on screen as the man behind the camera begun to ask his questions.

she was feeling majorly sorry for herself. already seething that her holiday request had been denied by her boss, now she couldn’t even look at his pretty face and sweaty body on her tv.

she decided to try and distract herself for a little while till christian called her. she knew he would be straight on the other end of the phone as soon as he got back to his hotel room. it was their usual routine, whenever y/n couldn’t join him, he’d always call her after a game. win or lose, he loved hearing her voice when she couldn't be there with him.

y/n decided to kill some time by indulging in a little pamper session, using the time to relax herself in a hot bath with her favourite salts before coating her body in her butters and lotions.

as she dried herself off, she was feeling mischievous and still riled up from seeing her boyfriend looking so handsome and not being able to have him. with that on her mind, she decided to tease him.

it wasn’t the first time she had done it and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. sending risky pictures, she knew it was a sure fire way to have christian in the palm of her hand when he called later on.

she picked out a black lacey lingerie set, discarding of her bath towel and slipping it onto her fresh body.

she exited the bathroom, heading back to their bedroom where she got comfy on their shared bed once more.

y/n pulled out her phone and opened up the camera app. she admired the way the thin bits of lace looked on her body. the tiny thong covered just about all it needed to whilst the thin material of the bra brushed against her hardened nipples and had her breasts spilling over the cups in a way she was certain christian would love.

she moved her body about, angling it in different positions till she was happy, capturing her body so perfectly she was certain it would have christian weak at his knees.

< 1 image attached

missing you x

send.

she smirked to herself as she locked her phone, putting it back down on the bed next to her and keeping herself busy by scrolling through netflix till christian replied.

not even 10 minutes had passed when her phone begun to ring, her heart bubbling as the sweet picture of the two of them flashed up onto the screen.

deciding she wasn’t done with teasing him just yet, she ignored the call, letting it go through to her answer phone.

ping.

call me. now. x

she smirked to herself as she saw the message flash up onto the screen, retrieving her phone from the mattress. she ran her hand through her hair, smoothing it out a little before pressing call back.

one ring was all it took for her boyfriend to pick up.

“hey, baby.” she answered sweetly, voice laced with fake innocence, doing her best to come off as ingenuous as she could before she caved, which she knew wouldn’t be too long.

“why didn’t you answer?” his voice was husky and stern and y/n pressed her thighs together at the sound of it. she had missed it so much.

“i- i didn’t hear it, im sorry.”

“mhm, too busy touching yourself?”

“no.” y/n answered quickly and honestly before taking a breath, “needed to wait to hear your voice to do that.”

christian groaned down the phone. he loved how needy she was for him. even when he was away, she needed him to be able to pleasure herself.

“what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” his voice was low. “sending me pictures like that, what if someone saw, mhm? wouldn’t want people finding out what a dirty little slut you are, would we?” she squeezed her legs together at his filthy words. there was a momentary silence that followed, clouded only by the noise of christian’s belt being unbuckled and his zipper being pulled down.

the thought of him pulling his cock from its confinded constraints was all too much for her, she finally had to finally do something about the ache between her legs. ghosting her hands down her body, she lightly traced her nipples through the lace as her other hand begun to trace gentle circles over her clit through her underwear.

a breathy groan left christian’s mouth as he thumbed at the precum on the tip of his dick before giving it a few measly tugs.

“i’m sorry, i just…” her fingers continued their delicate movements as she awaited further instructions from her boyfriend, but she couldn’t help a whimper from spilling from her lips as she felt just how damp the lace had become from her arousal of just watching him all sweaty on her screen. “i told you, i miss you, chris.”

a throaty groan left his lips and she knew he was looking at the picture she had sent him.

he begun stroking up and down, closing his eyes as he pictured his girlfriend’s soft hand doing the work instead of his. “i miss you more, baby, but i’ll be home tomorrow and all yours for a whole week.”

y/n giggled softly. “i can’t wait to have you back with me- oh.” she cut herself off with a moan as she slid a finger underneath her underwear, collecting some of the wetness to easily glide soft circles on her clit. “‘s not fair, you looked so hot tonight, baby. got me all worked up when you’re not here to fuck me so good.”

“you think so, sweetheart?” christian spoke, his first increasing it’s speed as he kept it wrapped tightly around himself. he wasn't too sure how he had ended up here so soon after the game, but he loved how easily he had her putty in his hands.

christian had frantically thrown his phone back into his jacket pocket when he had opened up the message, praying to God that his teammates behind him on the coach had not seen it. luckily they weren’t too far from the team hotel when he opened it and after making some excuse about wanting to unwind on his own, he made his way up to his room, locking the door and slouching back onto the king size bed as he frantically reached for his phone to call his girl back.

“so hot, baby. wish you could feel how wet you’ve made me.” y/n’s silky voice and desperate words went straight to his dick, his heart beginning to pound in his chest as he thought about his girl back at home in his bed touching herself to the thought of him.

“are you touching yourself, baby?” christian asked, his voice curious with want for her words even though he already knew the answer.

she continued rubbing slow circles around her clit, the wetness allowing for perfecly smooth strokes. her other hand lightly grazed over her hardened nipple through her bra before dipping in and gently pinching between two fingers, just how christian would do. “i’m sorry, i couldn’t wait till tomorrow.”

“tease yourself, baby. imagine it’s me, my big cock running up and down you, feeling how wet you are.” she did as she was told, christian feeling himself get harder and harder as quiet moans travelled through the phone that was now propped up against her ear.

she did as she was told, using two fingers to run up and down her slit before slipping them inside. “fuck, feels so good, christian, so good,” she moaned and christian let out a soft chuckle at how worked up she was already.

“yeah? you like that baby? you imagining your fingers are my cock?”

she whined, nodding her head. "yes. oh fuck yes."

christian’s hand came to a still as he used his other to grab his phone and snap a quick picture l, capturing his fist wrapped firmly around his shaft, the sensitive head red and dripping in precum.

he quickly sent the image and it wasn’t long till it was evident y/n had seen it, christian smirking to himself when a high pitched moan hits his ears.

she moved her fingers to mimic the movements christian would make to the best of her ability.

“my good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

a lewd moan fell from her lips, her fingers curling to graze deliciously against her sweet spot, the same way christian’s dick would press against it as he would bury himself deep inside her. god, she missed him so much.

“answer me, princess.” his voice was desperate, “need to hear you.”

“yes,” she managed to wrangle out, almost losing herself completely to the pleasure. “your good girl, only yours, christian.”

christian chuckled lowly as she continued to whimper. the sweet sounds passing through the phone line had christian aching for her touch, silently cursing the distance between them as he worked his first fast and hard.

“fuck, tell me how good it feels. are you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart? wish i was the one fucking that pretty pussy of yours?”

“mhm, wish it was your cock instead, nothing feels as good as you do, baby.”

his head fell back as his fist continued to work himself, his other hand reaching round to cup his balls as he squeezed ever so slightly. christian imagined the warmth of her tight walls snuggly around him as she would clench tightly, approaching her high.

the wet sounds of his fist working himself had y/n even more frustrated she hadn’t been able to get the time off work, knowing how well christian would’ve fucked her after such a good game.

“can you hear how much i miss you, sweetheart?” christian husky spoke down the phone. a half moan mixed with a murmur of ‘yeah’ left her lips as she brought her other hand down to play with her clit, rubbing fast circles on the now swollen nub as her other hand continued to pump in and out, curving her fingers every so often.

“wish it was you, wish it was your big cock making me feel so good. want to feel you fill me up with your come, baby.” a high pitched noise left her mouth as her digits hit her sweet spot hard, her thighs tensing as her orgasm approached.

“gonna fuck you so good when i’m home, sweetheart. gonna bend you over our bed and you’re gonna let me pound you into that mattress till you’re screaming my name.”

“yes, fuck, i- i’m so close, chris, baby, i-oh.” she parted her lips, letting out a moan and throwing back her head as she let the blissful feeling completely consume her body.

christian groaned, his eyes falling shut as he felt his high approaching. “fuck, y/n, ‘m gonna come, princess.” her moans were enough to send him over the edge, his eyes falling closed as she moaned his name, riding out her high till she was so sensitive and had to remove her fingers.

christian opened him eyes, his fist still wrapped around his now softening cock as white ropes of his come covered his hand and thigh.

“naughty girl. got me in such a mess, baby.”

y/n giggled as she took in some breaths, trying to calm herself from her intense orgasm. “you know if i was there i’d help clean your mess up.”

christian groaned, his sensitive dick twitching at the thought of her tongue on his skin, cleaning up his come from his body.

“i’ll have you know it’s your mess, not mine sweetheart. i was ready for an early night till i got your promiscuous text.”

she giggled down the phone. “i’m sure i can make it up to you when you’re home.”

a groggy ‘mhm’ left christian. “oh, i’ll make sure you do, baby.”

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fanfic

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cowgurrrl · 6 months

Note

Literally any Joel and reader dancing to “you’re so good when your bad” by charley pride. I know he slow dances like a mf

You’re right and you should say it

You’re So Good When You’re Bad

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: OH IM SO HOMESICK

Summary: "He looks like he works with his hands and smells like Marlboro Reds." — Our Lord and Savior Ethel Cain aka this ask [1.8k]

Warnings: June pushing her Texas agenda, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because I said so, flirting, alcohol, i think that's it??

Contrary to popular belief, it's actually pretty easy to love Texas. The longhorns grazing in big green pastures while the sun shines on a clear summer day is enough to capture anyone's heart. An outsider might find the ten-gallon hats and sturdy cowboy boots obnoxious or strange, but you've grown to love them. Maybe because with that acceptance, you've found your own cowboy to love. One part of Texas culture you haven't grasped yet is the dancing. Your boyfriend, Joel, however, loves it.

You met Joel when he and his brother came to do some work at your father's ranch. Honestly, it could've been anything from cutting down a tree to trying to tame a rowdy stallion. You ended up in the garage with him hunched over your car's engine as you worked together to identify where the weird sound was coming from. Joel came in to ask a question about a tree, blueprint, or something when his eyes fell on you. "Oh, 'm sorry, ma'am," he took his hat off in a true form of Southern manners and held out his hand. You met him halfway and introduced yourself before you looked back at your car. "Got a problem?"

"It's just making some noise. We're trying to figure it out, but Dad's eyes aren't as good as they used to be."

"Watch it." Your dad teased, and you and Joel laughed. He stepped a little closer to look under the hood, too. With him that close, you spotted the freckles that dotted his skin and the patches of grey in his beard. When he met your gaze, you felt caught and suddenly way too hot, like a teenager with a crush.

"Mind if I take a look? Might be able to help."

"I thought you were a cowboy, not a mechanic."

"I've done my fair share of both. Thanks to Tommy, we've run through almost every engine problem in the book," he said. "Unless you want to rely on your old man's vision." He was the right amount of teasing and kindness that the sentiment didn't offend your dad. It only made him laugh. He encouraged Joel to take a look and went inside to catch the last half of the UT game, leaving you and Joel in the garage.

You explained more of the problem, handed him tools when he asked for them, and tried to ignore how his biceps flexed when he maneuvered around the machinery. You noticed he was a little bit older than you, but the crow's feet and the salt-and-pepper hair did nothing to deter how your heart pounded when his hand brushed against yours or the way he said, "Thanks, darlin'" when you got him a glass of sweet tea.

"It looks like just a loose part," he said as he leaned away from the open hood and wiped his stained hands on the red bandana hanging out of his pocket. "Go 'head and try it now."

"That's all it took?"

"You don't believe me?" He smirked, and you shook your head.

"I just can't believe it would be that easy."

"What? Your boyfriend couldn't figure it out for ya?"

"Do you really think I'd still come running to my daddy's house if I had a boyfriend?" You raised your eyebrows at him in a silent challenge, knowing you made an opening for him, before walking to your driver's side door and sliding into the seat. Sure enough, when you turned the engine over, the sound disappeared, and everything ran as it should've been. "Alright, maybe I underestimated you." You said as you turned off the car and got out. He gave a faux bow and closed your hood, his big hands lingering on it before he turned to look at you.

Without the hood's shadow in your way, you could fully take in his full lips, messy brown curls, and the oil stain on his cheek. You giggled and pointed to your own face. "You got somethin'," you said, and his hand shot up to the opposite cheek, somehow smearing more on his face. You laughed and grabbed a clean rag from your dad's workbench. "Do you mind?" You asked, raising the cloth halfway to his face, and he blushed.

"Not at all." He said. With a shy smile, you wiped the black marks off his face. A gentle hand on his jaw helped you turn his face this way and that to make sure you got all of it. You remember thinking he was surprisingly pliant at your touch and almost leaned into how your fingers held him. You didn't realize how close the two of you were until your knee bumped against his, but neither of you jumped away.

"There you go," you murmured in a raspy voice, your throat suddenly dry. "Good as new." You lingered there for a few more seconds before you stepped back and threw the dirty towel back when you found it. "So, what do I owe you? For fixing her up?"

"Don't worry 'bout it." He waved you off, and you gave him a look.

"What? No. I can't let you do that."

"It was really nothin'. A loose part, like I said."

"But you still fixed it. I can't let you walk outta here without paying you."

"Tell you what," he said, stepping into your space again. "Let me take you out to dinner, and we'll consider it settled." His eyes twinkled with something mischievous, and you couldn't look away.

"You ask all your client's daughters out?"

"Just the pretty ones." You laughed at how quick he was with it.

"Alright, cowboy. I'll get out with you, but you better make it worth my while."

"Yes, ma'am." He promised. Of course, Joel made good on his promise and treated you to one of the best dates you'd been on in a while. That was six months ago, and somehow, he's still finding ways to give you amazing dates even in between cattle driving and fixing old Mrs. Calahan's rickety porch swing. And, of course, his beautiful teenage daughters, Sarah and Ellie. He hasn't let you down all these months, but you have to admit you were a little skeptical when you first walked into the bar/dance hall. A live band is playing on the stage, and a crowd of people is dancing before them, clad in leather cowboy boots with belts to match. It smells like tobacco, and the warmth from the kitchen makes everything a bit too hot and sticky.

"I don't know about this, Joel." You say when he settles in the seat across from you with two drinks in hand. He gives you a sympathetic look before glancing at the couple's two-stepping around you.

"Look, we don't have to dance. I just thought it'd be good to change things up. We always go to the same places." He reasons.

"Because we like those places." You're a little whiny, but he leans over and kisses your pout away anyway.

"A little adventure never hurt anyone, baby." He's right, but it doesn't make you feel any better. He sighs when he sees how unconvinced you are, but he doesn't give up. "I'll make you a deal. We'll have a drink here, and if you still don't like it, we'll go anywhere you want."

"Okay." You agree, almost certain you'd be able to drain your drink and go somewhere you were more familiar with. But if there's one thing Joel Miller is not, it's a quitter. He distracts you with affection, sweet words, and entertaining stories that he's already up and ordering another round by the time you realize your glass is empty.

Your next two drinks settle your nerves and make the room spin pleasantly around you. Joel, as usual, gets extra clingy when he's had a few and needs to have some point of contact the entire night. His hand roams from yours to your knee to your hair, but you love it. The only time he's willing to let you go is when you get up to go the bathroom, and even then, he pouts until you kiss him and scurry away before he can snatch you back. When you return, Joel is right where you left him with a smirk on his face, and you smile as you step between his knees.

"What're you so giddy about?" You ask. His hands find your waist, and he shakes his head.

"I just like lookin' at ya." He says, and you roll your eyes at him.

"You're drunk." You accuse, but there's no malice in your voice. He shrugs and pulls you closer.

"Now, this one goes out to a friend of ours who requested a very special song for a special lady. Hope y'all enjoy." The guitarist of the country band announces into the microphone. You could be just as drunk as Joel, but you swear he's looking in your direction. There are a few more seconds of silence before they break into the melody, and you immediately recognize the tune. "You're So Good When You're Bad" by Charley Pride was one of the songs you and Joel danced to at Tommy and Maria's wedding. You hadn't heard the song in forever and practically dragged Joel to the dance floor, and it, somehow, became your guys' song.

"Was this your doing?" You ask, and he shrugs as he stands and takes your hand.

"Must've been luck." He says simply and walks you to the dance floor. You're aware of all the eyes on you two and get a little anxious, but when Joel pulls you to his chest, it all fades away. He's sturdy against you. His calloused hand holds yours, and his other hand guides your waist while your fingers rest against the fabric covering his broad shoulder. He chuckles when you step on his toes but doesn't complain. He just redirects your footsteps and quietly sings the words into your temple, his lips brushing your skin in the process. He smells like pine wood and leather, and you find yourself pressing closer to his warmth.

Slowly and like you're the only people in the world, you guys dance in your own little circle, with Joel throwing in an occasional spin or kiss. You remember him telling you stories about getting dragged into quinceañera courts and debutante balls when he was a kid, but you never expected all that dancing to rub off onto Joel. You realized it when you first danced with him at Tommy's wedding but didn't think much of it. Now, as he holds you firmly and helps guide your drunk feet, you see it so clearly. He's a perfect partner, and all you want to do is stay wrapped up in his strong arms like this forever.

So, maybe you could master the art of Texas dancing if Joel's there to help. You think you could do anything with your cowboy and his heart of gold on your side.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

#joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #joel miller series #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #cowboy!joel miller

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neoflect · 21 days

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sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing. i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

#⚰️#jjba tag for blacklisting purposes but i dont want this in the main tag

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gayelderstourney · 10 months

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OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 1

Propaganda:

Sir Alistair Hammerlock/Wainwright Jakobs:

THEY ARE CANONICALLY MARRIED!!!!! THEY ARE FORCE/FINESSE SUN/MOON SALT/SUGAR. THEY ARE SILLY GENTLEMEN WHO ARE IN LOVE. HAMMERLOCK IS A VICTORIAN BIG GAME HUNTER LIFTED STRAIGHT FROM A STEAMPUNK NOVEL WHO IS ALL ABOUT ADVENTURE AND WAINWRIGHT IS A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN HEIR TO A GUN MANUFACTURING MEGACORPORATION WHO HAS SMALL AMBITIONS. OPPOSITES ATTRACT ULTIMATE INCARNATION. THE THEMES AND MOTIFS AND PARALLELS BETWEEN THEM ARE IMPECCABLE. THEY SUPPORT EACHOTHER UNCONDITIONALLY AND WHOLEHEARTEDLY. HAMMERLOCK THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO DIE AND HE RECORDED WHAT HE THOUGHT WERE GOING TO BE HIS LAST WORDS AND HE SAYS, I QUOTE: "but I long not for death seeking adventures, but instead for one… last… peaceful… moment… with you. I love you, Wainwright. Farewell." DID I MENTION HAMMERLOCK HAS A NICKNAME FOR WAINWRIGHT. HE CALLS HIM Winny AND IT MELTS MY HEART EVERY TIME. GOD THEY GET MARRIED IN THE CORPSE OF AN ELDRITCH GOD AND THEIR WEDDING IS AN ENTIRE DLC. IT ALSO COVERS THEIR RESPECTIVE DOUBTS THAT MAYBE THEY AREN'T THE RIGHT MAN FOR EACHOTHER BUT IN THE END THEY REALIZE THAT IT'S NOT TRUE AND THE OTHER LOVES HIM SO SO SO MUCH JUST LIKE HE IS. I AM SO SO AUTISTIC ABT THEM THEY ARE PEAK OLD MAN YAOI BUT THEY ARE VIRTUALLY UNKNOWN IN THE OLD MAN YAOI COMMUNITY. PLEASE.

They have an entire DLC about their wedding. Their base game story arc starts with Wainwright calling you to ask you to go on a rescue mission to save Hammerlock and calling him the love of his life.

There is a whole game DLC dedicated to their canonical marriage, they constantly call each other by pet names, every single time they talk about one another there is passion in their voices, they express how much they love and care for each other.

Irving Bailiff/Burt Goodman:

they are TRAPPED in capitalist dystopian hell and yet gay love persists. literally they are fighting for their got damn lives to be gay. they've been subjected to evil fucked up brain surgery to make them forget who they are outside of the workplace and yet. AND YET. they fall in love INSIDE the workplace and gain the desire to fight their oppressors so they can do old man yaoi activities. i forgot to take my adderall today sorry im not forming coherent thoughts but they made christopher walken yaoi real

They have only ever experienced being at work and are desperately trying to find meaning with no memory of the outside world. Fraternization is against the rules as well. The yearning is so much.

they are 2 sad old men who are in forbidden love. they bond over a mutal love of corporate art & company tote bags. their love inspired Irving to rebel against his employers for the first time ever. Burt is even Christopher Walken.

They’re so quietly sweet and heart-wrenching… fell in love on the ‘inside’ (they both work a job that ‘severs’ their work memories from their out-of-work memories; inside the job, they have no idea who they are on the outside or what the world is like, but they found each other and found a little bit of love and meaning and happiness inside the nightmare corporate world that is their job)

canonically in love with each other! in the show people sever their consciousness so they aren't aware when they're working. this creates a separate person that only exists while they're at the office, who doesn't share any memories with the person they are on the outside. these two old men bond and find comfort in each other despite the dystopian hell situation they're in

Old men having a forbidden romance while stuck in a hellish workplace dystopia

These two old men know nothing outside of their company propaganda, which says romance is forbidden, and they still choose each other. They bond over paintings, discuss company policy in each other's arms like they're debating scripture on whether their love is allowed. They're sooo gay and it's so sweet to see true, canonical old man yaoi

Weird old man office romance except they only exist inside the bounds of the world’s worst office building and they go on a little date to a room full of plastic plants

#polls #round 1 #gay elders tourney #tournament poll #sir alistair hammerlock #wainwright jakobs #borderlands #wainlock #irving bailiff #burt goodman #severance

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yellow-py · 4 months

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hello! you've probably been asked these before, but i'm here to ask how long it typically takes for you to make animatics, if you have any tips, preferred methods, and what you use? i saw your funger animatic and it looks absolutely gorgeous! i love all the detail that's jam-packed into the art and story telling, so i'm curious about your animatic process.

sorry if this is a lot! no need to answer if you don't want to. i love your stuff and i wish you well!

Hi! I don't mind answering some questions!

First things first, I'm not a professional storyboards artist. I've done a few things for some youtube channels. I wouldn't call myself an expert. This is to say that my method of doing things might not the best for people who actually work in the industry.

Most of the time I work in Storyboard pro 7. But honestly, any editing software works as long as it can handle pictures and audio. For the disco elysium animatic I only used clip studio paint and some random editing program called Camtasia. It worked alright but it takes a bit longer to finish stuff since storyboard pro is more streamlined. My go-to method right not is to draw the backgrounds in clip studio and the characters and editing in storyboard pro. That way, I get the best of both worlds.

The funger animatic took about 2 and a half weeks to make. It usually takes longer, but the song wasn't that long so that saved me a lot of time. But as another example, my disco elysium animatic took +3 months. So it really depends. I did work longer on each frame for that one tho, so idk. On average, it takes me about 2 months. But that number keeps going up since my expectations of myself keep rising.

Anyhow! I'll be bringing up my fear and hunger animatic as an example of my process.

My animatics usually start out having the ugliest thumbnails known to man. It does let me experiment with framing and timing, which is absolutely crucial. I do not recommend that people start refining frames without having planned out things beforehand.

After that, I just save every thumbnail and import it to storyboard pro. I just scale it up to the current canvas size. Then I just line up every frame with the audio. It is a little bit tedious but you gotta do what you gotta do.

After that, I begin to draw the backgrounds in clip studio. I do the same thing as in storyboard pro and just size the thumbnail up. And then I just sketch over that! Technically, I could have drawn the backgrounds in storyboard pro. But their brushes are pretty uggo so I prefer to not do that :)

As dumb as it might sound, it kind of stresses me out when my storyboards aren't "pretty". Which is pretty stupid since storyboards are literally made only to be a guide for what an animation should be. so in actuality, it's alright if they're kinda crusty. But since I never intend to animate my animatics I find it nice to spend more time on each frame. Which is sorta stupid because I'm shooting myself in the foot by working so long on every frame...

Either way, after that, I import the new backgrounds into storyboard pro and begin to draw the characters. Technically I could draw them in clip studio as well. But its faster to draw them in story board pro and it also allows me to do some semi-animated things and work faster. So, after a lot of experimenting, clip studio backgrounds and storyboard pro characters is the way to go for me!

And just to note. This animatic might have only taken about 2 and a half weeks. Which sounds pretty good. But when it comes to animatics I can become a real workaholic if im inspired enough. So every day after school I would sit non stop working on this from the second I got home to when it was time to sleep. As well as every second of the weekend after I was done with my chores. So that is to say I work pretty fast and persistently, which i know is not healthy or realistic. So take my timing with a grain of salt.

But that's kinda my process. I just draw backgrounds and draw characters until the thing is done.

If I had to give any advice, I would say it's important to have fun when making animatics as a hobby. When I make an animatic, it's because I personally want to see that animatic, and if other people like it, that is a plus! If you're excited about an idea, it'll be a lot easier to add fun details and soul into it.

But yeah that's it. I can't really come up with anything else to say. I hope I gave some good insight!

#storyboard #animatic #storyboard pro #boarding #tips #thumbnail #don't really know what to tag this as dkgdfkg

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numberonecodwomenfan · 3 months

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Mama’s Boy

my first writing on this account!! im actually pretty proud of this, despite the fact that i wrote it on my phone in probably 2 hrs lol.

TW for mentions of alcoholism and guns

König’s mother taught him to shoot. Before he even thought of joining the military, back when he was simply Edie’s boy- “the tall one, not the blond,”- from down the street. No one in the small town of Heugraben bothered with his all-too-common name. There were probably three Lukases from down the street, and he had yet to think of using his middle name, so Edith’s boy he became.

Edith was a small, stocky woman, with dark hair that had begun to gray at the roots. Her calloused hands guided König’s fingers to wrap around the trigger of the BB gun he had received for his twelfth birthday. He had been asking for one- his father would take him on hunting trips when he was sober enough to care, and König, young, naïve König, still held out hope that the man would return one day. He wanted to be able to impress his father with his marksmanship.

Edith had finally relented, and after a lengthy safety lecture that König barely paid attention to in his vibrating excitement, Edith set up some of Cristoph’s old practice targets in their vast backyard.

“Your hands are shaking, little prince,” she chastised, and reached out to steady him.

“Sorry, Mama.”

“No need for that,” Edith scoffed. She maneuvered König’s arms to the proper position and flicked the safety off. “Hold it up so the butt is against your shoulder,” Edith said. König received an admonishing flick to the back of the head when he giggled at her phrasing.

“Ow!” König turned to his mother with a pout. “If you keep flicking me like that, I’ll have a hole in my head!”

“Hm, maybe if you did I could finally dig around in there and get the cobwebs out,” Edith knocked on the crown of König’s head with her knuckles. He grumbled under his breath and Edith chuckled. “Alright, enough of that. Hold the end of the gun against your shoulder.” König did so, and Edith nodded. “Now look down the barrel of it. See the bump at the end? That’s the sight. That’s how you aim.”

König squeezed his left eye shut and pointed the sight at the target. His vision was a little blurry up this close, but he didn’t mention it.

“Now what?” He asked quietly.

“Now you line up the shot, and shoot.”

König tightened his grip on the gun, aimed, and hesitantly pulled the trigger. The sound startled him a bit and he stumbled back into his mother’s chest.

“Good job, Lukas!” Edith planted a kiss on top of König’s head (though she had to pull him down by the shoulders to do so) and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look- you hit it.”

König looked, and sure enough, he hit the target. Not a bullseye, but he hit it. A grin spread across his face, all crooked teeth and chubby cheeks, and he turned around to his mother.

“Papa’s gonna be so surprised when he comes back- he’ll finally let me help him on his hunting trips!”

Edith’s smile pinched and she took in a deep sigh. “Of course he will, my little prince.” She patted König’s shoulder and tried not to let her smile waver, lest she ruin König’s hope.

His brothers were older- they knew Cristoph wouldn’t come back. König, sweet, shy, wide-eyed and cherub-cheeked, in all his childlike innocence, couldn’t possibly imagine such a thing.

But of course, Papa never came back, as papas tend to do. Edith’s graying roots became salt-and-pepper, and the bags under her eyes deepened. König grew into his body, shooting up like a beanstalk even more than he had already, and by seventeen he had reached a mammoth six feet nine inches.

He had finally realized that being Lukas G. was frustrating, so suddenly, he was König. His middle name was fitting, as he certainly looked the part of a king- a towering, broad boy, with a crown of red hair, courtesy of Cristoph’s genes. His baby fat had mostly sloughed off, replaced by muscle, but his Oma still pinched his chubby cheeks as he said his goodbyes. He leaned down, nearly doubling over, so she could kiss him on the forehead.

“Stay safe, little prince,” she said with a smile.

“I will. I promise,” König shouldered his duffel bag and turned to his mother.

“Don’t go growing up on me while you’re gone,” Edith choked out through tears, “Come back for Hanukkah. And call, or write- I need to hear from you, okay?”

“I know, Mama. I will, I promise. I promise.” König hugged his mother as tightly as he dared. “I love you,” he said, face pressed against her hair.

“I love you too. So, so much,” she sighed, “now go.” Edith pulled away and shooed König off, into the military truck where his future laid.

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