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tinyowlthoughts · 2 months

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Humans are Space Orcs - Chocolate

"Ugh, I would kill for some chocolate right now."

Gorvan fumbled the holopad he'd been typing on, all four hands brushing against the screen as he tried to keep it from hitting the ship floor. He failed and it bounced off the tiles - thankfully neither breaking, nor denting the flooring. Grimacing, he swept it up with his tail and checked over the casing, before the alarming words registered in his head. A glance at the couch showed the human - Max - hadn't moved - still twisted up in their weird, pretzely way, chin in their weird five-fingered hand as they peered at the passing stars with a far-away look in their eyes.

"You, uh, want...chocolate?" He asked, certain he'd misheard.

"Oh my god, yes." Max heaved a sigh, shoulders rising to their weird, inefficient ears before dropping back down. "Jesus, I'd even eat a Hershey's Bar right now."

Gorvan gripped his tablet with two of his hands, hard enough to crack the casing. "Oh, um - what is a 'Hershey'?"

Max didn't look away from the window, still lost gazing into the galaxy. "It's a type of chocolate bar from Earth. Maybe a Mars Bar or a Milky Way would be better..."

Gorvan huffed through his nostrils, tail lashing anxiously behind him. "Oh. Um. I - er, I forgot I have a meeting with Captain! I have to go." Without waiting for an answer he turned and fled the recreation room, hooved feet clattering against the floor, desperate to report what he had heard. He missed the bemused look Max gave him before returning to his star gazing.

🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫

"Max."

The human paused upon entering the meeting room, seeing the rest of the C7H8N4O2 Star Explorer gathered around the table. All eight were tense in their seats, and the moth-like Elaana looked like she'd been crying. (Well, the species equivalent, which appeared as a dusting of pollen along her sharp cheekbones.)

Taurvin, the captain, was sitting in the largest seat at the head of the table, his considerable bulk looming over the rest of them. Oddly, the first-mate seat to his left was empty. Gorvan was instead sitting in Max's own.

"Uh, hey all. We playing musical chairs?" Max glanced between the empty chair and Gorvan, but when nobody asked for an explanation to their odd human reference (a common occurrence), they figured it wasn't the time for jokes.

"Have a seat, Max." Taurvin motioned to the first mate seat and, with a bit of hesitation, Max moved to take it. Luckily Gorvan, despite being bulky himself, wasn't too much larger than a standard human and the chair was comfortable enough. "We have something important to address."

Oh god above, what had they done this time? Max tried to think back to all the interactions he'd had onboard the last few weeks, but couldn't come up with anything too egregious. Sure, there was the whole joke with 'human snot is acidic' thing but that had been more of a gross-out joke for Elaana, the ships medic, who hadn't seemed to upset when he accidentally sneezed on her a few days later and dropped the act. Epitak, the ships engineer, had been pretty pissed when ze found out Max had taken apart the air filtration unit in their quarters to try and understand how it worked, but ze had also walked him through repairing it, so they thought it was all forgiven.

Oh jeeze, had they found the plans to get a kitten onboard under the 'emotional assistance animal' loophole?

"Max." Taurvin's normally jolly voice was grave, and all the crews eyes were on them as he spoke. "It has come to my attention that you have been expressing some...troubling thoughts."

Okay, definitely the kitten thing then. "Look, I can explain," they started, but Taurvin held up a large, three-fingered hand and stopped them.

"I do not want you to feel pressured to speak to us if you do not wish to. As a member of the Intergalactic Exploration Society, you have access to mental health resources at no cost, any time, anywhere. I will be more than happy to assist you in setting up a link to a therapist through HR and, if required, will grant you time off the ship if you need it. You are the best navigator I have ever seen, and I do not want to lose you."

"Well, thanks, but uh, what do you mean?" Max glanced around the table and noticed that their normally upbeat crew were all showing signs of distress (Elaana was brushing away newly fallen pollen from her compound eyes).

"Max, you requested chocolate." Gorvan reminded them. "This morning, you said you would even eat a substance known as a Hershey Bar from your home planet." The human had never heard the first mate sound so distressed. When Max just blinked, Epitak took over, beak clacking anxiously as ze spoke.

"We understand that many planets have government programs in place for self euthanasia," ze explained, technical as always in his word choice, "but we aboard this ship would much rather assist you in healing rather than lose you, despite what you may feel is best for you. Suicide by theobromine is not the way forward."

"...what."

"It's okay, love!" The pollen was flowing freely from Elaana's eyes now, and she blinked it away with her long lashes. If there weren't a table between them, Max was sure she would have bundled them up in a full-wing hug and refused to let them go. "We'll support you through it all, we promise. You're part of our crew - our family, and we never want you to feel otherwise!"

"Well, uh, thanks. I see you all as family too...?" Max glanced at the four remaining crew members. Dhaca and Lenzoill were quiet but obviously upset, Qhals was staring at the ceiling with their fanged muzzle pulled into a tight grimace, and Ir'ith was -

Ir'ith was smirking.

Max narrowed their eyes at the inventory manager who also served as the ships cook (for the simple fact that he was the only one onboard who could cook). The zad merely shrugged when their eyes met, though his grin was growing.

"I think I'm missing something here." Max admitted, looking between Gorvan and Taurvin. "This is all because I got a chocolate craving?"

"A craving?" Elaana almost lunged across the table at the word, the only thing holder her back Ir'ith's hand on her shoulder. "You mean you've had chocolate before?"

"Well, yeah? All the time." Max was not expecting the horrified expressions they received.

"So humans treat theobromine as a drug?" Epitak asked, aghast.

"Noooo...? It's a dessert. Like, a sweet treat." Max had no idea what was going on now, but by the way Ir'ith's shoulders were shaking, he did. "Hershey's is a candy bar."

"Wait," Dhaca finally spoke up, leaning forward and shoving his glasses (well, glass - one lens for one eye and all) to the top of his head, "theobromine is not toxic to humans?"

"I'm assuming that theo-stuff is chocolate?" When Dhaca nodded, Max nodded in return. "Yeah, no, chocolate isn't toxic to humans. I ate it all the time on Earth."

Ir'ith gave up and cackled, sounding a bit like the grackles Max used to watch in their back garden on Earth. The avian's wings flapped a few times as he laughed, having to lean forward and grasp his stomach with taloned claws to keep himself from falling out of his chair. When he finally glanced up at Max, it was to the flattest look the human could manage, which only sent him into another gale of laughter.

Taurvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his boar-like snout. "I believe this has all been a misunderstanding," he spoke over the cooks laughter, which had turned into squeaky gasps. "Dismissed."

A few befuddled glances were thrown Max's way, but the rest of the crew were quick to leave, avoiding Ir'ith's flapping wings as they squeezed out of the room. Soon only the cook, first mate, captain, and navigator were left.

"Sorry, kid." Ir'ith finally came up for breath, wiping at his eyes as he regained his composure. He fished into one of the many pockets that adorned his poncho and produced a bar wrapped in purple foil, which he tossed to Max. The human caught it and felt their whole face light up. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None at all, dude!" Max tore open the wrapping and took a big bite of the Cadbury Dairy Milk Bar, nearly melting at the familiar, sweet flavor exploding on their tongue.

"For the record," Ir'ith said as he stood, cracking his back, "Zad's can eat chocolate to. Let me know next time you have a craving." He sauntered out of the room, humming happily.

The three sat in silence for a moment, other than the crinkle of the chocolate bar wrapper. Finally, Taurvin cleared his throat.

"Max, I apologize for not conferring with you in private beforehand." The captain sighed. "I did not wish to embarrass you, but an intervention was suggested and I believed that comfort from your crew would be the best way to show the seriousness of our support were you truly entertaining the thought of self euthanasia."

The human shrugged. "It was nice to hear you all care about me, even though I've only been on board a few months," they admitted. "And I got chocolate out of it." He wiggled the remains of the bar.

"Still, if you ever feel the need for mental health services, they are available to you. And if there is ever anything I or the rest of the crew can do to assist you in that way, please don't hesitate to ask." Taurvin placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, a show of sincerity for his people.

"Well," Max tapped the chocolate against their chin in thought, "there may be one thing. Have you ever heard of cats?"

Next: Bluffing

Original Reddit Prompt:

#humans are space orcs #writing #blurb #The EC Theobromine

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sophiethewitch1 · 4 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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christinarowie332 · 6 months

Text

stupid horny fucks .

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

warnings: accidental dick pic lmao . smut ovs ? quick fuck . possible angst if u squint . possible series . not proof read

in which : chris accidentally sends his bestfriend a none PG photo …….. resulting in tears of tension being released…. but was it a mistake?

ps : don’t send unsolicited nudes , it’s weird as fuck . this is heavily fiction . don’t be a weirdo .

————

the room was a calm environment, me , nick, matt and chris all sat in dim lighting from the tv , my legs sprawled over nicks lap on the couch as we all relax in our shared space. this was a normal night for us all , a movie in the background, snacks and drinks arrayed out as we all engage in absent minded easy conversations. chris was quieter tonight. i notice as i allways do , subconsciously focussed on him , it’s hard not to be when your surrounded by things that remind you of him , and of course himself . i’ve always felt wierd with chris . it’s not all the time . 70% of the time he’s just an annoying, loud , funny , sweet friend . same with nick and matt . but that 30% , that’s something even chris himself couldn’t get out of me . god he’s attractive. the way his legs are spread , his sweatpants pressing against his dick , the shadow of his bulge basically begging to be touched. his fluffy hair , swept against his features , the loose curls lightly lay on his forehead. his sharp facial features being illuminated by his phone screen as he looks down to it , his pink lips puckered as he concentrates. god everything about him just makes my skin crawl , goosebumps literally growing on the skin of my arms at the thoughts that run through my head. the way his veiny hands would look around my neck. the low tank top he’s wearing , and how his sleek collarbones would feel on my lips . fuck .

i cross my legs on nicks lap , squeezing them together to relieve the growing tension between them . nicks head turns towards me , his confused expression catching my attention. “you good?” he asks , shifting himself on the sofa , his voice making matt and chris glance over at us .

“i’m fine , just getting comfortable” i send him a reassuring smile after speaking , all three of the brothers attention going back to the tv or phones . thank god . i try to distract myself from my thoughts (chris), pulling my phone from beneath my body on the cushioned seat . i open snapchat and start scrolling through my recent snaps , random guys , my friends , team snapchat (wow i have no life) . i start snapping them back , ceilings , selfies . chris . i open his snap and it’s just a normal photo of him , sexy as fuck ,but just a normal face snap , i send him one back and carry on with the rest of them .

after a while , i’m watching a instagram reel and get a chat notification from chris . i look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “chris i’m literally in the same room as you why are u snapping me ?” i ask , waving my hand around with my phone in its grasp . he doesn’t look at me as he responds, his thumb still lazily scrolling on his phone. i roll my eyes beofre opening the chat . said eyes basically fall out of my head when i open it . i audibly gasp and my head shoots towards chris , making literally everyone look at me .

“sorry.” i replies to their stares , i watch all three of their attentions go back to their original places , before chris’s head snaps towards me , his eyes wide and jaw muscles clenched . the photo he sent me , was probably the last thing i ever thought i would see . his dick . in all it’s glory , veins decorated up the shaft , towards his tip , pre cum dripping down the side . it was fucking huge . i look down at my now vibrating phone in my hand , chris frantically texting me .

chris | I DIDNDTTT MENBA TO SEND THET

: DONT FUCKIJG SAY ANYTHING.

: Y/N

: OLESSE

: THAT WAS NOT MEANT FOR YOU

: bro i’m so sorry

: please just forget u saw that

: nah im actually sorry

it takes me a few seconds to contain myself . before i decide to text him back .

me | chris bro it’s literally fine .

chris | i’m so sorry

: i’m acc so sorry

me | chris .

: i said it’s fine .

chris | are u sure ? i’m so fucking sorry .

me | why are u sorry ???? that’s a nice ass dick .

why the fuck would i say that . chris’s bitmoji stops typing . and just stays still for a while before i see a new message.

chris | my room . five mins .

me | i’m going now . follow me idfc

i immediately get up from my seat , throwing to phone to the sofa and twlling the boys i’m going to bed . i make it to chris’s room in seconds , leaving the door open and waiting for him there . it’s a minute until i watch him speed into the room and slam the door behind him , walking towards me and grabbing my neck to slam his lips onto mine .

the kiss is fast and needy , clothes being torn off as our lips collide and tongues explore each others mouths . he leads me to the bed in just his boxers , and unclips my bra before dropping me onto his mattress . he watches the recoil from the springs in his bed make my tits bounce , a small smirk playing on his lips beofre climbing on top of me and attaching his mouth onto my neck .

he pries out small wimpers as he bites and sucks on my skin , leaving bruises up to my ear and over my chest , my hips thrusting forwards to reach his bulge , aiming for any friction as the tingling between my thighs intensifies .

“are you sure ?” he breathes into my neck , it’s like all i’ve been relying on is pure instinct, his words barley make it into my head and i’m drunk in his touch . “yes fuck , just hurry up and fuck me” i reply, lurching my hands to his face and bringing him up from my chest, reattaching our lips . his fingers make his way to my clothed pussy , his middle finger drawing circles over my swollen clit . his muscles contort as he moves , curved shadows against his pale skin . the veins running up his forearm from his slender fingers .perfectly smooth and sharp at the same time . “so needy……” he says moving his fingers upwards before putting them under my underwear, running his cold finger between my folds . “and so fucking wet” he continues, making his way to my clit with his fingers , making me lift into his touch and moaning at the sensation. he continues his movements placing his knee forward towards my heat , slowly prying my legs open so he has better access , slowly increasing the speed making me a whimpering mess underneath him .

he pulls his fingers away and swiftly takes off his boxers , pumping his dick a couple of times before placing the tip at my entrance and running it through my folds . “are u one hundred perfect sure?” he asks , i nod frantically, readjusting my self underneath him making myself comfortable. “words baby , you know i would love to fuck you sensless but right now i need your words”

“YES CHRIS JUST FUCK ME”. i raise my voice , i see his eyes flicker and an eyebrow raise before he slams into me , a smirk growing on his face as he watches me sink into the bed , all confidence gone as he pounds into me. “JESUS FUCK , fuck” i allmost scream as he thrusts into me, my hands slapping his back , nails digging into his back at the feeling .

his hair flops against his forehead at each thrust , groans and heavy breathing falling from his lips. his hands hold his up as he towers over me , silencing my own cries of pleasure with his mouth on mine still sloppily placing kisses on my lips before moving down my neck. “your doing so well , i’m so close baby i’ve wanted this for so- fuck” he breathes out as he keeps thrusting , each minute pulling energy and sweat from our body’s as we both edge closer to our release . my hands hold his shoulders pulling myself into him to deepen his reach into me , feeling his ruthless abuse of my g spot , not allowing any thoughts to come from my brain . quite literally fucking me senseless .

“FUCK , chris i’m so close , CHRIS don’t stop please” i plead to him , making his speed pick up . “me too mama me too , come baby please” he says as his finger moves towards my clit , the circles matching his thrusts as he eggs my release on . i feel his dick twitch inside of me , at this i feel myself completely release around him , loud moans being silence as his hand rests on my throat as he kisses me through my orgasm . moments later i feel him also topple over the edge fulling out and feeling warm strings of cum coat my stomach and chest .

he flops down next to , his chest heaving and loose curls wet slightly around his neck with sweat .

“what the fuck just happened” i say looking over to him

he just stares at the ceiling .

what the fuck just happened .

————

i’m so drunk rn this is such a mess .

————

taglist :

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444 @kenzieiskoolaid @cabincorematt @urmyslxt @chrisenthusiast @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @loveesiren @paper-crab @daddyslilchickenfingers @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lea0518 @chrisolivia4l @its-jennarose @kitaysworld @liz-stxr @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @mattslolita

———

side note : i love u all sm , like acc . sorry for the delay in the fics but i hate posting shit that’s half assed or rushed , and i like to make sure that my shits realistic to the boys . you know ? hope y’all still love me LMAO !!!

-🍼

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #milkietalks #chris sturniolo x reader #milkie is down bad #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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mitsies · 8 months

Text

❊ ikea kitchenettes & everything in between - aki hayakawa . . aki's going to break your new oven before you get a chance to use it.

warnings: very suggestive because let's bffr that's what we all want

men are too proud for their own good, you think. and to your misfortune, your fiancé is no exception.

beep. beep. beep.

the sound of buttons being furiously smashed picks up, to the point where you can hear it from beyond the shiny new kitchen island. it's a new apartment, full of shiny new appliances, which clearly are causing the love of your life a fair amount of strife.

from your position slouched onto the pillows on the floor (a substitute for a couch, before yours comes in) you can see silky black hair, a little bit creased by the hair tie that usually holds it in place, and hands carding through dark locks in frustration. you have to bite your lip to hold back a smile.

"everything good back there, aki?"

at your voice, his full face pops out from above the kitchen island. amber kitchen light shines dimly from bulbs yet to be replaced. he looks disgruntled, to say the least. you can't hide your amused expression when he states, "i think the oven is broken."

"but it's brand new?"

he sighs and places his hands on his hips. "they must've given us a defective one."

you're more than skeptical. he's more than certain. with a sigh, you rise from your seat on the make-shift couch and walk to the opposite side of the kitchen island, leaning over it to see what he was doing. a tray of vegetables sits on the middle rack of an unlit oven, and the screen on the side reads blank.

"it's fine. i'll figure something out; finish your reports," he says, watching as you come over to the oven's side and bend to check it out. you turn to him. "no, don't worry. this won't take long."

it's with great amusement that you press the big, obvious, glowing white 'power' button on the side of the oven's interface which illuminates the inside and turns it on. and it's with even greater amusement that you watch aki's face go so, so sour, as if he's just taken a bite of the biggest lemon set to be roasted on the tray.

"yeah," you muse, standing back up, "i think it's broken too."

you can't help the laughter that escapes your throat at his expression. you allow yourself to lean into his side as his eyes are narrowed and fixed onto the fully functional oven. wordlessly, his arm moves to accommodate you with an arm loosely draped around your waist. a natural reflex, at this point.

"i'm sure you'd have figured it out eventually." aki finally looks at you, breath ghosting your forehead.

"mhm. you knew all along. do you enjoy messing with me? watching me struggle?"

"what— hey!"

it's weird, to think about how a little over a year ago, you'd never even considered being here, in this position. if you told past-you that only six seasons in the future, you and your work crush would be a couple, living in a new apartment, with a new oven, and a kitchen so empty but somehow so, so full of love, you'd never believe it. if someone told you that the aki hayakawa would be comfortable enough to hold you so close, to plant a ginger kiss on your forehead like he's doing now, to joke around with you, to smile with all his teeth around you, you would laugh.

but that was then, and this is now. and this— this is real.

his lips are warm, if a little chapped, as they plant a gentle kiss to your forehead. his hold on your waist tightens, just a little, but enough to make you wish your bed was fully assembled. what you do have, though...

you beam at him. "how long will those vegetables take?"

he glances at the oven. "root vegetables'll take maybe 25 minutes. why?"

your smile gets bigger. "that's enough time for me."

"time for what?"

you don't answer, opting to take his hand and pull him to the empty space outside the kitchen that should be a living room. well, empty save for a stack of papers and a set of very big, very soft pillows.

his face goes red. "no. you have paperwork to do. i have dinner to make."

but his grip on your hand tightens. and you know him well enough to be able to tell that he's hiding a tiny little smile.

"it's our apartment. our rules. and i want you to kiss me."

men are too proud for their own good. and even though aki is no exception, you find that his resolve is easily destroyed— only when it comes to you.

flowers chosen: sunflowers (small and tall) & yarrow . . adoration, haughtiness, and everlasting love

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#aki hayakawa x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki x reader #hayakawa aki #csm aki #aki #hayakawa aki x reader #chainsaw man #csm fanfic #aki fluff #chainsaw man fluff #chainsaw man fic #reader insert #mitsies 5k

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jovial-thunder · 3 months

Text

Lancer Tactics devlog

I'm gonna try out posting my ~monthly devlog roundup here as well. These suckers are glorified changelogs with anecdotes and gifs galore. Let me know if this is something you like seeing show up on your dash?

Map Editor

Got units able to be placed/deleted/moved in the mission editor

Can paint/remove command zones in the editor

Can paint minecraft-like terrain blocks in the editor

Can paint/rotate multi-tile props in the editor

Can edit unit character sheets and portrait via the editor

3D maps

Did a bunch of art tests with 3D mech models, provided by GeneralChaos, which we ended up deciding not to go with to keep things simple.

To avoid the can of worms that is animation, we'd have to lean into a static "tabletop minatures" aesthetic which we decided is not a style we want to be stuck with. By sticking with 2D sprites, we avoid falling into a sort of uncanny valley; it's easier to get away with not animating a 2D sprite than it is for a 3D model.

We also experimented with 3D terrain. We decided to make a rule that the visual style for a piece of terrain should match its mechanical effect: obstructing terrain that you can't move through, such as rocks or buildings, will be in 3D, while non-obstructing terrain like trees will stick with 2D sprites.

Hooking up the 3D camera to follow events like movement and attacks did a LOT for making it starting to feel like it's cohering into an Actual Game™

Implemented cover! And an attack preview! Cover works by aiming a ray from the target to the originator (technically to and from each voxel of each, respectively, to handle size 2s shooting above size 1 cover) and tracking all the terrain blocks it hits (how we'll handle non-terrain hard cover TBD). I think I have it working according to Perijove's cover rules manual, but I'm sure there'll be edge cases to work out. This is a case where things are significantly simplified by working in squares instead of hexes; hexes have a lot more possible weird angles you have to deal with.

Re-added what I'm stubbornly calling Combat Popcorn; little bits of text that pop out when you use abilities and attacks.

UI & game screens

Added ability for the engine to show UI that's anchored to the game world via a little word bubble line but also stay on screen as the camera moves around.

Got word bubbles working; you can now write dialogue in the mission editor, hit playtest, and see it work in a mission! (it does actually translate correctly now; this gif is just from a bug I thought was funny)

Got ability effects mostly behaving appropriately again, including muzzle flashes. The easiest way to handle them ended up being NOT billboarding them so they always face the camera (like all other 2D sprites in the game); instead, I put them on a plane parallel with the ground and just spin them around the unit to point at wherever their target is.

Did some work ironing out our tooltip system. The standard in CRPGs these days is this kind of nested labyrinth of tooltops that you see in Baldur's Gate 3:

I Did Not Want to try and figure out how to wrangle that much UI, so we're instead opting to cap the nested tooltips at the second layer. You can lock a general tooltip for e.g. an action and then mouseover various items within that tooltip to get glossary definitions...

...and then instead of having those glossary tips be lockable/mouse-overable themselves, I collect all related terms to that glossary definition and let you tab through them.

Added skin overlay functionality to the portrait maker, enabling textures like scars, tattoos, stubble, and vitiligo to be applied to just the skin and not extend off into space.

Midway through writing this update, Carpenter sent me this gif of the randomization button working! There's a still a bunch of skintones/assets missing and a few are a bit janky, but it was exciting to start seeing the range of these lil freaks (affectionate) that this editor can create.

Mourning cloak license!

This is the one I'm probably most excited about: I did a bit of a content dive and implemented a basic character sheet + all Mourning Cloak traits and equipment. They don't have fancy graphics yet, but the weapons and systems can be added via the character sheet and used in-game.

It took a little under a day, including adding soon-to-be common mechanisms like bonus damage. This is great news in that it means the engine we've been building for so long in the abstract seems to do a great job in handling comprehensive actual game content, and that it looks like we've set ourselves up for success when it comes time to buckle down on churning that out.

I'm sure other licenses will come with unique difficulties (I fear the day it comes time to do the Mule Harness // Goblin CP) but I'm feeling good about it!

Vertical slice?

Taking a step back, the pressing question on my mind has been "when will we have a playable early access build?"

I was originally hoping for Feb/March, but what we've internally been referring to as the "3D cataclysm" has pushed everything back by at least three months, so the target for the first alpha build is now in May. So, ah, thanks for your patience! Seeing things come together, I've become more and more convinced that moving to 3D was the right call.

#lancer tactics #made with godot #godot 4 #indie game dev #game dev #lancer rpg #tactics rpg #indie dev #godot engine

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miheartsedthings · 2 months

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All The Lovers in the Night

“Smells like rain.”

Billy glances from the movie he’s watching to where you’re leaning on the window sill, your nose nearly pressed against the screen.

“Hm?”

It’s cool out, early spring.

“Rain,” you say again, “C’mere.”

Graduation was months ago, and since then you and Billy spend as much time as possible together. Now, you’re at his place while his dad is away on a business trip. Susan doesn’t stand in the way of you being together, as long as you all have some idea of which friends Max is hanging out with. She’s with Lucas and the others, so you and Billy have the house to yourselves and you’ve taken up in the living room.

You’re on your knees in front of the window beside the TV, transfixed by the little green yard and the trees just beyond. All settled under graying clouds. Billy comes to stand beside you.

“Smells like…” he pauses, leaning down and closing his eyes. He’s been so at ease since his dad left. Since his ribs healed and the nightmares lessened. So much more thoughtful. More like his true self than he ever would’ve been before.

“Kinda like ocean.” He says as he looks out. He’s smiling but only with his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, taking another big inhale. “Wet dirt, and like…” another breath “the way it smells on foggy mornings, ya know?”

He nods. He sits down on the hardwood, one knee bent as he reclines on the opposite arm.

“You’re missing your movie,” you say.

His eyes are far away, looking out into the sky.

“It used to be quiet in our house when it stormed,” he says. “My grandma lived with us and she used to make me and my mom huddle up in the living room and pray until it passed. Normally, my dad bitched about everything that woman said, but…when it stormed, something came over him, too. Everything would just get mellow and we’d sit there…damn. I forgot about that.”

A cool, damp breeze rolls over you, and slowly a shush drums up from the ground as the rain starts to fall. Quietly at first, and then louder, filling the air with scattered water and the sour smell of soil. Billy loops an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses the chilled skin before returning his eyes to the window. You settle into him, closing yourself into the warmth of his arms.

“There’s so much I wish I could change about what happened to you.”

Your words feel thin. Maybe they’ll slip right out the window and be trampled by the rain. Broken through like butterfly wings.

“I know,” he says “I know what you'd do for me if you could.”

His arms tighten around you, somehow bringing you closer to his chest. You know the words are meant to be comforting, but they make you feel powerless. You sit there drowning in all the nothing you can do to fix the things he suffered with. Before you know it, you’ve sniffled, and he turns you to face him with a hand under your chin.

“Hey,” he says, his face tightening into a stern glare. “You don’t get to be mad at yourself about shit you can’t change. Remember we made that rule?” You nod, but it only makes it worse that he cares so much. “Keep being a crybaby you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

A laugh bursts out of you, regardless of your tears. He’s able to make you laugh whenever he wants, it’s like some weird superpower he has. He smiles a little and kisses you, letting his lips linger.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You can’t have more regrets than me and shit…I’m here.”

You’re flooded with more words, more sentiment than you’d ever burden one person with. It’s too much. So you kiss him again and try to telegraph it all through the dense space between your internal self and his. You try to send him healing and care. Compassion beyond description. Forgivenesses not yours to give. All of it. Everything.

For a moment, when he’s filling you, you think he feels it. By some miracle of the body and the sound of rain, he finally feels how much you love him. You’re so happy you could die.

Artist Credit: Cécile Berrubé

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #fanfic #billy stranger things #story

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whitherwanderer · 1 year

Text

Pride Backlighting Tutorial

A few people have shown interest in replicating the pride backlighting I did, so hey, here’s a quick tutorial below the cut.

Enjoy, and happy Pride Month. 🏳️‍🌈

STEP 1 — SETUP

First thing you’ll want to do is find a suitably dark background to bounce the light off of. I use the White Screen housing item dyed Soot Black, available from the Housing Merchant or Apartment Merchant in any of the housing zones for 3000 gil.

I line up 2-3 of them for coverage, but one will do if you're trying to be frugal.

If you don’t have an apartment or an FC room to use, try asking friends, FC mates, or even folks you share a Discord server with. You might even find someone who already has a studio space set up and is willing to let you use it!

Lighting in your studio space should be 0 (though you might have success at 1 as well), so make sure to adjust that or ask the studio owner if they can make that change before you start posing.

STEP 2 — GPOSE

Position your character(s) just a little ways back from the edge of the screen. You want some space between them and the screen so that the lighting can float there without casting a weird circle on the wall.

Hop into /gpose and bump up the “Manual brightness adjustment” to about 120 or whatever level allows you to see your character well enough to pose them. Pose to your heart's content.

STEP 3 — LIGHTS

Here’s the fun part. In the Light tab of the Gpose menu, switch all of your Light sources to Type 1, which has the shortest falloff radius (meaning it doesn't reach as far as Type 2 or 3). I also set all of my lights to one strong color to differentiate them while I worked on lighting—red, green, and blue, all maxed out at 255 (for now).

Swing your camera (still on all default settings) around to your character’s back and up above their head a little ways. This is where Light 1 (red) will go.

Now pan your camera down at about mid-back height and set Light 2 (green) there.

Pan your camera down one last time until you have a nice shot of your character’s butt and set Light 3 (blue).

Spin your camera back around and enjoy this nice little macaw-colored gradient.

STEP 4 — CAMERA

Set your camera angle.

The way FFIXV’s lighting works is partially dependent on how much light is in a shot. It will adjust a lot like your eyes do when you’re entering a dark room from a bright room, or vice versa. Your zoom level and camera angle are going to directly affect the lighting, so set this before you start messing with light strength and color. Sometimes this means weaker lighting will actually light your character better.

I ended up bringing my lights down to around ~160 and boosted the "Manual brightness adjustment" up quite a bit to get lighting I was happier with.

For a straightforward vertical shot, I like to have my Field of View (FOV) at 200 and of course my rotation is set to 90. Zoom in or out as needed. Remember to save your camera angle if you plan to pan around and fix things!

STEP 5 — COLOR

Make it ~queer~.

Take your flag of choice and pick out 2-3 “main” hues. Generally these will be the strongest hues in the flag, if not the only ones. Some flags, like the Pride/Progress/Intersex-Inclusive flag itself, are difficult to replicate for the sheer number of colors that are in it. You can loosely represent a rainbow with some adjustment to the RGB colors, if you’re determined to have a whole rainbow in there.

Shader Note: I recommend picking a shader preset that doesn’t mess too much with color so that colors are represented correctly. You may need to adjust light strength and “Manual brightness adjustment” to be compatible with your preset of choice. Bloom will also heavily affect the way your colors are showing up, so you may need to tone down the bloom FX or toggle it off entirely. This all depends on your preset, however.

If you’re not into RGB math, here are some cheat sheets! Not every flag is represented here of course, but I tried to cover as many colors as I could so that you could grab a color from another flag as needed! Please note that colors will need some adjustment for your own screenshot, presets, and preferences.

And that’s it, y’all! 🏳️‍🌈

(Open this image up in a new tab for more detail.)

These were taken using a heavily customized shader for that nice glowy effect.

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #[ ooc ]#[ tutorials ]#i didn't actually have a tutorial tag but #now i do #enjoy ❤️

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onceuponastory · 5 months

Text

ball of fluff - bucky barnes

Plot: Bucky tells Y/N how he met Alpine. Pairing: BestFriends!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (but maybe there's something more there... 👀 it's me, of course there is) Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky's past as The Winter Soldier, and how we was used and controlled without his consent. Also includes mentions of how Bucky hates himself for what he did, and the nightmares he has. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: Hey, I finally finished a WIP, hahaha. And it's another episode of "this was supposed to be a drabble but it's over 1k words."

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Morning.” Y/N smiles, walking into the kitchen at Avengers HQ. The room is mostly empty, aside from Bucky. He lounges on the couch, scrolling through his phone and laughing to himself about something on the screen. When Y/N sits beside him, he murmurs a greeting before immediately going back to laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s just Alpine.” Bucky replies. “Look, I got him a new toy mouse a few days ago, and he’s already destroyed it.” He grins, holding out his phone to show her the picture. Y/N leans in, laughing when she sees the picture, especially the satisfied look on Alpine’s face. It’s nice, seeing Bucky laughing like this, sounding so happy. Although, it is a little weird.

Because Bucky looks so intimidating usually, the master of a death glare. And yet here he is, making cute cooing noises and laughing over pictures of his cat like a completely different person from what history and the news will tell you. But she likes this version of Bucky a lot.

Well, she likes everything to do with Bucky Barnes a lot. Like the way he always makes her heart skip a beat, or how she always has a lovesick smile on her face whenever she’s around him. She just can’t bring herself to tell him that though.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Y/N asks, her brow raised. “How did you find Alpine?” Bucky’s own brows furrow.

“You’re asking that like it’s a weird question.”

“I just mean, knowing you, I thought you found him on a mission somewhere and rescued him from an evil base, from some supervillain like in James Bond.” She chuckles. “Screw damsels in distress, you rescue cats in distress!” She grins.

“What is it you actually think I do?” Bucky raises a brow, yet can’t stop another grin from tugging at the corner of his mouth. A sight that makes Y/N’s smile grow just that little wider. God, she’s got it bad.

“You know, superhero stuff.” Y/N shrugs, and Bucky chuckles.

“Well, I may be a hero, but I found Alpine in a perfectly normal way.…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One year ago….

The room is filled with noise, and Bucky awkwardly fiddles with his gloves. He really should take them off at some point. New year, new him and all that. And, of course, being pardoned helps as well. That one might take a little longer, though. This task is small, and manageable. Although, when you have spent your entire life being used as a weapon and fighting space monsters on the regular, everything seems minor in comparison.

Right now though, it feels huge, like when they first faced down Thanos for the first time. Or when he came back to earth after being gone for five years and became a man out of time all over again.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” The voice of a staff member makes him jump slightly. He’s still not used to this, to being noticed and to being someone, to being Bucky Barnes, rather than a weapon used and controlled without his consent. Rather than The Winter Soldier.

To be honest, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to it.

“Hi. I was thinking of getting a pet. I was thinking about a cat, but I’m open to anything, really.” Of course Bucky doesn’t tell him it’s because he’s so alone, and thinks he might lose his mind again if he’s alone any longer. The nights get so lonely sometimes, especially with as many nightmares that he has. Being alone with his thoughts, forced to confront what he did for so long every night, is his own personal hell. A punishment he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Maybe being responsible for another life, rather than taking it away, will be good for him.

That is, if he doesn’t fuck this up, too.

“Of course, sir.” The man smiles, beckoning for Bucky to follow, which he does. “We have plenty of cats available, from kittens to seniors. Do you have any specific breed in mind? Any age or gender?”

All the questions make Bucky furrow his brows together. Choosing a cat seems to be harder than he thought. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to just walk in and for someone to just hand him a cat, but still. “Not really.” The staff member nods, smiling.

“That’s totally fine. You’re not the first who just wants to walk around. I’ll show you what we have, and we can go from there.”

Bucky looks at every variety of cat and kitten at the shelter. They’re all adorable, but none of them feel right, like his cat. Suddenly, he sees a little white ball of fluff curled up against the corner of a cage. They don’t even move when Bucky approaches. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“That’s Alpine.” Alpine looks up, looking for whoever came to see him. His blue eyes stare at Bucky for a moment, and he cocks his head to the left slightly before burying his face back into his fur. “Sorry, he’s really shy. We’re not sure if he likes people that much.” Bucky chuckles. Well, at least he sounds like him. Bucky doesn't like people that much either. Maybe this’ll be a good match after all. “Do you want to see some more cats?” The staff member asks, but Bucky keeps staring at Alpine, watching as his little head pops up again, checking to see if the stranger outside his cage has gone.

“Hey there, buddy.” He whispers, smiling. He expects him to curl away from him again, but to his surprise, he takes a few steps forward towards him, tentatively sniffing the air, then Bucky’s gloved hand. Bucky chuckles, murmuring an “aww.” to himself as Alpine brushes his head against his fingers, nuzzling into them and purring.

“Wow! He rarely does this. You must be special.” Yet the man’s voice fades out as Bucky and Alpine make eye contact. At Christmas time, Sam and his nephews showed him that movie The Grinch, where his heart grows three sizes after he discovers the true meaning of Christmas. Originally, Bucky wrote that off as cheesy nonsense, but now he feels it happening for real as he looks at this tiny little cat. He smiles. He’s perfect.

“I’ll take him.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Brought him home about a week later, and the rest is history.” Bucky smiles.

“Oh. My. God.” Y/N gasps. “That’s so cute. Turns out you’re just a big softie deep down, huh, Buck?” She chuckles. Bucky flushes pink, and Y/N continues to grin.

“Don’t say a word.” Bucky hisses, but Y/N keeps laughing and smiling. And despite how much he wants to keep it cool, and act like it’s not affecting him, Bucky can’t help but laugh. Because she’s right. Sometimes (more often than he’d like to admit) Bucky hangs onto his Winter Soldier persona, using it like a mask to hide behind. After all, it’s better than having to meet new people all the time, and to actually make relationships with people. People who could disappoint him, or leave him when things got too hard. Nobody would ever go near him if they thought he was still like that, still an asshole who would kill you if you looked the wrong way at him.

But with Y/N… he doesn’t want to hide himself anymore. She makes him the happiest he’s ever been in a long time, and brings out the best parts of him, the parts he thought were gone forever. Her laughter rings through the air, the sound the sweetest melody he’s ever heard, and Bucky just can’t stop smiling. Y/N likes him for who he is, and despite how much he hates himself… Bucky loves the way she makes him feel.

Well… he loves Y/N more than anything in the world. But she does make him feel pretty damn great.

“You know, Alpine sounds amazing. Maybe I’ll meet him one day.” She smiles. The thought makes Bucky’s heart grow even more, this time so big it could explode out of his chest. His two favourite people, the people he loves most in the world, meeting each other.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, smiling softly. “Maybe one day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maybe we'll see reader meet Alpine..... 👀

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #fanfiction #fanfic

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beenbaanbuun · 8 months

Text

Love Sick - Lee Chan

Words - 3.4k

Genre - fluff

Warnings - making out, Chan is sick, language, nudity but nothing really NSFW

You were in the shower when your phone started to ring, interrupting your impromptu karaoke session. Of course, you ignored it. It was one thing to stop your music for a few seconds, but pulling you away from your warm, way-too-long shower? That was too much. Besides, you were wet and your hair was still covered in shampoo suds. If they needed you that desperately, they’d surely ring you again.

After a few seconds, the shrill ringing stopped, replaced by the sound of your favourite vocalist's voice once more. You began to sway, a smile finding its way onto your face as you danced to the beat of the song. You were just about to open your mouth and sing along, but before you got the chance, the song was cut off once more.

You tried to peer over at your phone to see who it was that needed you so badly, but the glass surrounding you had fogged up, obscuring your vision of anything outside of the cubicle.

“This had better be worth it,” you grumbled as you yanked the door open and stepped into the much colder room. You ignored the puddle that formed under your feet as you stepped onto the tile. It was something you could clean up later after you were done chastising whoever it was that apparently needed you so badly.

You read the name on the screen, your eyes rolling on instinct when you realised it was your oldest friend - and most annoying friend, for that matter - that was so desperate to get in touch. Knowing Seungkwan, it probably wasn’t anything important he was ringing you with. Probably just the latest drama that he’d heard through the grapevine and thought it to be of the utmost importance that you knew too. Usually, you loved to sit and gossip, but not when it was getting in the way of your morning routine.

Still, you bit the bullet and answered, but before you could even say the word ‘hello’, Seungkwan had already started talking.

“Chan has a cold.” He said, cutting you off.

“Huh?”

“Chan. He’s sick.” Seungkwan repeated.

“And what does that have to do with me?” You asked, trying to save face even though your heart was aching. You had to stay strong, you reminded yourself.

“He’s your responsibility,” Seungkwan argued.

“Since when?”

“Since five months ago when you two finally decided that the rest of us had suffered your pining enough,” he sassed down the phone. You frowned, but you couldn’t exactly protest. Neither you nor Chan had been subtle with your feelings in the months leading up to him finally asking you to be his girlfriend.

“Touché,” you grumbled, “but that still doesn’t make him my responsibility. There are 12 of you and one of me. Surely it makes more sense for you guys to take care of him.”

Seungkwan sighed on the other end. You were being annoying, and you knew that, but for a good reason. The last thing you wanted to do was to seem ‘overbearing’ - Chan’s words, not yours - and you couldn’t help but feel as though showing up to the dorms to take care of your boyfriend would be just that. It was only a cold, you told yourself, Chan would be fine without you.

“Listen,” Seungkwan started. You could practically see the sympathetic smile on his face as he spoke. “Chan told me what happened. I understand why you’re trying to keep your distance right now. You’re hurt and you’re trying to give him the space he claims he wants, but I need you to ignore what he said. You’re usually so good at ignoring what people say.”

“Seungkwan, I can’t,” you fought back, ignoring the very blatant dig.

“Yes, you can,” he practically growled at you, “Chan is sick because he hasn’t been taking care of himself. He’s been acting weird since you two argued and he keeps saying he’s just tired but we can all see right through him. He hates himself right now and he misses you so much, but he’s too stupid to do anything about it. If you want this relationship to work, you’re going to have to take the first step. If you prove to him that you’re still there, he’ll come crawling back with an apology.”

“I don’t need an apology,” you whined into the phone. “What I need is to not fuck up this relationship! Chan made his wishes very clear, and if he wants me to be around less then I will try my hardest to do that for him. Even if it is killing me.”

“It’s killing him too!” Seungkwan yelled down the line, trying to get his point across. He knew you were stubborn, but this really was taking the biscuit. “Whatever you think you’re doing, it ends now. Stop being childish and get over here.”

And with that, he hung up, leaving you with a war raging inside of your head. On one side, you wanted nothing more than to go and cuddle into his side and feed him soup until he was back to his regular, lively self. You wanted to dote on him and make him feel loved, but for some reason, you just couldn’t get the argument from only days before out of your head. He asked for space, and the last thing you wanted was to go against his wishes just because you couldn’t bear the thought of him being sick. You really didn’t think you could take it if he turned you away, especially when he needed someone to take care of him. It would break you, you were sure of it.

But then Seungkwan came into your head. The lovely, irritating Seungkwan who made sure to tell you when you were being dumb, or taking things too literally. Who made sure to never send you down the wrong path or put your feelings in danger of being hurt. You trusted him over anyone else in the world, so if he said that Chan needed you, then your mind was already made up for you; you were going to see him.

Before you knew it you were outside of the dorm, dressed in some clothes that you frantically picked up from your bedroom floor and your hair still dripping wet from your shower. You looked a mess, but you felt worse. The constant conflict of emotions in your head had given you a headache, and the anxious stomach ache you had made you feel even worse. If you didn’t have a job to do, you probably would’ve turned around and gone home, taken yourself to bed and refused to come out again. Instead, you knocked on the door and tried your hardest to swallow down your nerves as you waited for it to be opened.

It took a moment or two, but soon enough you were face to face with a disgruntled leader. Seungcheol looked even more tired than he usually did after a long morning of taking care of his members. Dark bags rested under his eyes as he sent you a smile that was soon cut off by a yawn. He must’ve had a rough night, you thought to yourself, and for a moment or two, you were glad that you were there to offer what little help you could.

“Thank god you’re here,” he tugged you inside, shutting the door behind you. The first thing you noticed was how quiet the dorm was. Usually, there would be a never-ending stream of noise coming from every which direction, but today there was nothing but an eerie silence. “I’ve been up all night with Chan.”

“Jesus,” you cursed. Seungkwan had said it was just a cold, but now you were wondering whether he’d just said that to keep you calm. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s sad,” the leader sighed, “has been since you stormed out the other night. It wasn’t so bad for a few days, he mainly just kept to himself in his room, but now he’s sick as well and all he wants is you. I kept telling him that you’d be here when he woke up, but he wouldn’t go to sleep without you and I couldn’t just leave him, not when he was as upset as he was. He passed out about an hour ago. It was pretty much when Seungkwan rang you and they all left for practice. I’ve been trying to stay awake to wait for you.”

Your heart sank. So Chan really did want you there. He wanted you there so badly that he had put Seungcheol through hell for a whole night. You felt bad for the guy, in all honesty, but you appreciated him taking care of your boyfriend.

“How did you know I’d show?”

“Oh, please,” he guffawed, “there was no way you weren’t going to run to Chan’s aid the moment you found out he was sick. You’re just as whipped as he is.”

“You’ve got me there,” you giggled as you set off in the direction of Chan’s room. “Go get some sleep, Cheol. You look old with those bags under your eyes.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” he jokingly scolded you, “You should respect your elders!”

“Bye Cheol!”

You stood outside of Chan’s bedroom door, unsure of whether you should knock or not. If he’d only been asleep for an hour, maybe not. It felt a little cruel to wake him up, especially if he was as sick as his members made him seem. He needed his sleep, and you really didn’t want to be the one to disrupt it.

There was still that annoying little voice in the back of your head, though. The one that told you that you should’ve stayed at home because he didn’t really want you there. In that case, it’d be better to announce yourself, right? There’d be nothing worse than waking up with someone you didn’t want to see by your side. At least if you woke him up he’d have a chance to get rid of you before you let yourself hope that things would be different than the last time the two of you spoke.

As your knuckles wrapped against the door, you couldn’t help but feel bad for not trusting Seungkwan and Seungcheol. They’d done their best to convince you that your boyfriend wanted you by his side today, but you were letting your thoughts get the better of you, telling yourself over and over again that this is the one time you shouldn’t believe them. They had to be lying. Otherwise, you’d been keeping yourself away from Chan for no reason other than your own stubborn feelings.

There was a quiet groan from the other side of the door. A groan that sounded an awful lot like ‘come in, hyung,’ and whilst you weren’t his ‘hyung’ you still took it as an invitation to enter the room.

“Oh, Chan,” you mumbled as your eyes finally landed upon his body that was tangled up in his blue sheets. A thin layer of sweat sat glimmering on his forehead and yet he still held the quilt up to his face as if he was going to freeze to death otherwise. All you wanted to do was take care of him, but as you walked closer and closer to his bed, you couldn’t help but let those thoughts enter your head once more.

“Y/N, is that you?” He grunted, sounding just as weak as he looked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “but I can go if you want me to.”

You watched as his face contorted into one of hurt. Great, you thought to yourself, now you’d upset him on top of him being sick. You really were a piece of work.

“Why would I ask you to go?” He sounded offended that you’d even asked, although you thought it was a valid concern. “I haven’t seen you in days. I’ve missed you.”

You sighed, your feelings all jumbled up. The glee of him wanting to see you was mixed with the hurt of him seemingly forgetting everything he said to you to make you avoid him in the first place. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt since he was sick and all, but you couldn’t deny that part of you wanted to cry.

“Can you come and lie with me?” He said after it had been silent for a minute or two. Of course, you wanted to say yes, but for some reason, your feet wouldn’t move from where they were planted a few feet away from his bed. “Please, Y/N.”

Still, you hesitated. Your thoughts were running wild. One moment they told you that you should just turn around and leave, and the next they said you should just forget the argument and run to him. After all, to be in his arms was all you’d been wanting for the past few days you'd spent without him.

“Chan,” you started, preparing to voice your concerns.

“Y/N,” he responded in the same tone, “just come here, okay? Whatever you need to say can wait until I have you close, can’t it?”

You sighed, but you did as he asked, shuffling forward on your socked feet until you were standing just above his bed. You could see his face clearly from there. You could see the soft smile that he wore, as well as the gentle look in his eyes. You could see a thousand apologies swimming within them, and for a second you almost forgave him then and there. You held back, instead choosing to do as he asked and crawl into bed beside him.

“Too many clothes,” he grumbled as you slotted yourself into his arms. “I’m practically naked and you’re dressed like you’re about to walk out into a snowstorm!”

“I’m wearing a jumper, Chan,” you giggled at his silliness. “Not even anything underneath.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pushed his face into your neck as he completely engulfed you in his body, “think about how nice this cuddle would feel without that big thick jumper separating the two of us.”

You had to smile. Chan was a naturally chatty person, whereas you were more docile in nature. It was nice to know that the almost constant flow of words from his mouth didn’t falter when he was sick. It was even nicer to hear him after the radio silence you’d had to endure. You much preferred talkative Chan to any other iteration of your boyfriend.

“If I take it off will you stop complaining?”

He nodded in reply and released you from his grasp so that you could pull the knitted garment over your head. You felt his eyes on you as you did so but it didn't feel weird. The two of you had seen one another so many times now that all shock value had been removed from the action of undressing. No longer was it a sexual act, but just a regular part of your lives. You always watched him when he came back from practice, rambling passionately to you as he stripped himself before his shower, just as he watched you prepare to lie down in his arms by removing every layer that may separate the two of you.

For a second or two, you contemplated taking everything else off, as you usually would, but you stopped yourself. As normal as Chan was trying to act, things still felt weird between the two of you. Going back to normal straight away without so much as a single word said about the incident that occurred a few days prior felt strange. You didn't want to do it, nor did you think you could. So you just lay down, uncomfortable in your bra and jeans, and let Chan hold you close once more.

Nothing more was said by Chan. In fact, you would've assumed that he’d gone back to sleep if it weren't for the small kisses he kept placing on your shoulder and neck. They didn't come very often, and they clearly weren't supposed to lead anywhere else. They were just a simple reminder that he loved you and he was happy you were there with him again.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered into the dark room. You didn't expect an answer from him, you just wanted him to know how you felt.

“I know,” he replied, his voice gruff from the cold, “I missed you too.”

“You can't have missed me that much if you didn't even message me since we last spoke.” It was a petty thing to say, you knew that, but some sick and twisted part of you wanted to make him suffer as much as you had.

“I would’ve done if I knew what to say but it's difficult to admit when you’ve been a complete and utter idiot.”

That got a smile out of you, even though you tried desperately to hide it.

“You still should’ve said something. I’ve felt like shit for the last few days because of you,” you grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, releasing his grip a little, but not completely. You were still practically being swaddled by him, but now you had a little more room to breathe. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Chan,” you shuffled closer to him subconsciously, denying the space that he’d given you only seconds prior, “You’re just an idiot sometimes, and that's okay.”

He pouted before breaking out into a fit of chuckles.

“So I’m forgiven?” He pondered, moving his head so it was only a few inches away from your own. It was an invitation to kiss him, clear as day. If you were feeling particularly cruel, you may have denied him. Fortunately for Chan, though, even you weren’t mean enough to deny a sick man a kiss, even if he was an idiot sometimes.

“Forgiven,” you whispered, leaning in close and pushing your lips against his. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds before you pulled away. Your forehead was still pressed against his; you weren’t ready to back away just yet. “But if you ever hurt me like that again, I’ll set Seungkwan on you.”

“Of course,” he grinned, “I wouldn’t expect any different.”

One more kiss was placed upon your lips. A sweet one filled with love and pure, unadulterated joy. Teeth bumped against teeth as the two of you grinned into one another’s mouths, but you didn't mind. In fact, the feeling was welcome. It reminded you of all the giddy, too-enthusiastic kisses the two of you shared when you started dating. They were far and few between, when there was still an element of shyness between the both of you.

“You’re going to get me sick,” you whispered against his open mouth. He ignored you, delving back in for more. Despite your protest, you couldn't help but give in and let Chan put every ounce of passion he had into the kiss. You even returned the passion, holding onto his face so as not to let him slip away from you.

It was at this point that you regretted leaving the rest of your clothes on. Chan was right; it felt wrong to have something separating the two of you right now. You needed to be close, to feel his body close to yours. Even if he was feverishly warm and a little too sticky with sweat to be comfortable, you wanted him pressed against you.

So without breaking the kiss, you slipped a band between your bodies to unbutton your jeans. Chan pulled his pelvis away from yours for a few seconds to allow you to slip them over your hips and begin to push them down your legs. You kicked your legs, using your feet to push the jeans down the rest of the way and off of your body entirely. There was a small thud as Chan used his own foot to nudge them over the lip of the mattress and onto the floor.

“You taking anything else off?” He asked, hand already snaking around your back to rest upon your bra clasp. You nodded and within a few seconds, he was pulling the item away from your body and flinging it across the room. “That's more like it. Now we’re back to normal, hm?”

“Right,” you smiled, “back to normal.”

#seventeen oneshot #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #dino x reader #dino fluff

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eph-em-era · 7 months

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hey so i am so so pleased they hired an intimacy coordinator this time around! and you can tell that the actors are much more comfortable too! the intimacy is much much better!!

let's do a lil intimacy breakdown from my knowledge as an IC in training and a director just in general

(this is a long post so it's under the cut)

fact is, there's some awkwardness in the ed/stede s1 kiss, which i am ninety percent sure is due to body placement. i'd wager there was a discussion on set that was like "hey this is a stunning shot, we love what it looks like, let's get the actors in" and they got the actors in and got to the blocking for the kiss and everyone was like "hey this is a bit awkward but we'll muscle through" - cause that awkwardness fits the character arcs.

but it's not actually all that easy turning all the way to one side to kiss someone without moving where your legs are! it's weird! it's an awkward angle! - or more accurately, it's the angle that two people would kiss at if it was a very impulsive, awkward surprise; or if your two lead actors are very good friends faced with playing lovers for the first time and not sure what to feel about that (we've all been there) - there's reticence, but it fits the scene so it's fine.

(Lucius and Pete and Olu and Jim also have moments of intimacy, which for the most part are fine, and I suspect that's a combo of a) their staging is SO MUCH BETTER, b) character choices, c) different directors and d) less of that "OMG WE'RE PLAYING LOVERS NOW" anxiety)

~~onto season 2~~

for the record, intimacy direction isn't just for kissing/sex scenes, ICs can come in for intimacy building exercises and additional blocking, as well as things like nudity, childbirth or any similar sensitive work, but I'm going to be talking mostly about kisses in this. anyway!

Beautiful! Kind, lovely, tender! The backdrop is super nice too. Honestly, the Lucius/Pete stuff has really been so nice all the way along; that's great casting! Especially in S2E5, everything reads as very earnest and space is used very well.

Archie and Jim. Now, we don't have anything to compare it to from S1, but I'm flagging it cause yeah, they definitely have similar staging to Ed/Stede from S1E09. I would say there's a much better range of movement in this one, likely because they're sitting on the floor, braced against the bed, so they can compensate for the weird angle better than E/S could. This might come off as a lil rude but it's also more likely that these two actors are slightly more flexible and can make this staging work better than Taika and Rhys.

Cannot for the LIFE OF ME find a gif of their hug, but they have fantastic chemistry! despite only showing up for like 2/3s of one episode. I've seen people whining about how they absolutely should have kissed - and you know what, I would have liked that too!

however, I suspect that what happened here was that one or both of the actors didn't want to kiss on screen, and voiced their objections to the IC, who found a work around. It was likely not cause of any kind of ill will or homophobia, for the record - sometimes you just don't want to kiss people. Maybe you're sick, maybe you're feeling weird, maybe you're just not in the right headspace, but a kiss might be off the cards that day.

This is behaviour we want to encourage, btw. The goal is to ensure that actors feel comfortable and that the shot isn't be all end all. I've done something very similar, we had 20 mins to get the blocking done and the actors weren't at a point where kissing felt comfy, so we did a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

it is better that the actors are comfortable than your ship is fulfilled.

Hey yknow what I was saying about how ICs aren't just used for blocking, they're used for chemistry building? That's what they've HIT ON HERE. This is genuinely a very lovely kiss. It's deeply appropriate for the characters, and it's private and simple. things get a little more raunchy, and hands start moving, but then it's stopped, for a narrative reason, and the chemistry remains with the hand hold. It's really very nice, well blocked and well performed. the hand placement! the tenderness! it's great. there's none of that s1 reticence, whether that was from characters or actors.

I think the intimacy work, much like the writing and the characterisation is much, much stronger in this season, and that's to the show's benefit. I know we're only halfway through, but I'm thoroughly interested to see where things go in the remaining episodes. I will update this post if anything exciting crops up in the final five.

and this is why you need to hire ICs! they make life easier for actors, directors and crew alike!!

#our flag means death #ofmd #intimacy coordinator #ed teach #stede bonnet #intimacy direction #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers

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allaboutalf · 28 days

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Getting ready to drag out the old stan X/Twitter account cause wtf do you mean people who have watched the show for about two weeks & have only interacted with toxic buddie shippers are now jumping on the Tommy hate train?

There’s someone who got some traction live tweeting their watch about a week ago & it’s mind blowing to see them go from being neutral but into buddie to a full on easily led hater cause they’ve only interacted with vocal toxic fans.

Asking why people like Tommy when “all he did was be awful to Chim & Hen, apologise offscreen and kiss Buck”. If they just watched the eps about a week ago how did they forget that Tommy, Chim & Hen resolved their differences on screen & that Tommy literally risked his job & life to rescue Bobby & Athena just cause Chim asked.

You don’t have to love Tommy but the forced hate & ignoring his character development is frustrating.

It also is weird that they’ll double down on hating him over it all (& I know they’re doing it cause he’s the LI in the way of their ship) but hand wave away anything any of the other characters have done. None of them are perfect.

Plus, this whole virtue signaling narrative they’ve invented that he could have outed Buck to Eddie over a snarky closet joke that only Buck and the audience had context for - Eddie had literally just mentioned closet space - is so ridiculous it’s laughable. None of them cared when the episode aired but cause it’s gained traction within the toxic buddie fandom as something they can use to turn people against Tommy they’re now all jumping on to use it as a reason to hate.

I’m so so close to joining the few buddie and bucktommy/Kinley shippers over there I see trying to push back (& I do see you guys, I know you’re on here cause it’s a nicer environment, & I thank you for being willing to try to get through to those who are willfully ignorant). But while I like to vent here I really don’t want to engage with them.

#911 discourse #911 on abc #911 #911 abc #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #bucktommy #911 show #shipping discourse #evan buckley

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weirdmarioenemies · 26 days

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Name: Zomboni

Debut: Plants vs. Zombies

Plants vs. Zombies is such a silly game. Silly is baked into its very code. And I love that! You know me! I live under rotting wood, eating silly and breaking it down into nutrient-rich soil! But I think Zomboni has the honor of being the silliest thing in this already-silly game!

There is no way Zomboni would exist if it weren't for the wordplay. So thank goodness for the wordplay! A zombie, on a Zamboni. Though, we are informed that it is actually "more closely related to a space ogre than a Zombie". What impeccable word choice! So it's not even actually a space ogre. Just some weird guy creature. Awesome

Zomboni drives an ice resurfacing machine, and I have no idea what the general public's knowledge level of these things is. Does the average person know the exist? I knew, but I played and hated playing hockey as a child so I got to watch the ice being resurfaced, which was the best part. Some guy who may or may not be tangentially related to space ogres will drive this machine around the ice rink, cutting down the surface and laying down fresh ice to make a nice and smooth surface, I think. Now, I may be using the generic term for this product, but commonly, there is one brand name that is used commonly, like Band-Aid or Q-Tip or Velcro, and for that we can thank...

Name: Frank J. Zamboni

Debut: Utah

Frank J. Zamboni! Hooray! What do you have to say, Frank?

Wow. So true, Frank. I'm sure this message is reaching its intended audience in this post. Anyway, ol' Ice Tank Frank made such an iconic machine that it is THE ice resurfacing machine in the public consciousness, and there is even a trademark for its iconic shape! That seems unnecessary but ok. Now, when the ghost of the Zamberino was scrying the mortal realm for references to his work in media, he came across parody in a funny video game, and OBVIOUSLY something had to be done about that!

And from then on, Zomboni's description was updated to reflect that it is NOT to be confused with a Zamboni® brand ice resurfacing machine, you silly billy, why would you think that? And they also plugged the Zamboni website in-game, so that the audience of, I must emphasize, a silly video game, would be more likely to buy an entire ice resurfacing machine, or at least its related merchandise. I really would think this would all be fine under parody law, but maybe it has to do with the shape trademark. Whatever. To the Zamboni company's credit, they have some incredible merchandise.

What a powerful item. With this, the course of a baby's life can be changed forever...

Zomboni with an O, I mean with two Os, approaches while creating a trail of freshly laid ice that cannot be planted on. The brand-ambiguous ice resurfacing machine is quite tough, but instant-kill plants are effective, as are Spikeweeds and Spikerocks, which will instantly pop its tires!

Zomboni is a considerable threat, instantly flattening any plant it reaches before its destruction, though the player should be pretty well-equipped to combat it, and the ice is laid on the right side of the screen, rather than the precious left side. Pretty manageable! But Zomboni is only the beginning, and as much delight and intrigue as I have gleaned from Zomboni's existence, it's what FOLLOWS Zomboni that is, in fact, my favorite zombie(s) in the game.

If Zomboni is allowed to create an ice trail, it will be used by Zombie Bobsled Team! Yeah, Frank got a whole "name/debut" section and these guys just get a bolded name in a sentence. You never know what I'm gonna do next! Hee hee!

Zombie Bobsled Team is exactly what it sounds like! A team of zombies, in a bobsled! So that's four zombies, with a defensive vehicle that has to be destroyed before they can be harmed! Zomboni was already over-the-top silly, and then Zombie Bobsled Team goes even higher over that top. And it's a Big Top, where they keep all the clowns. There is not much else I can say about Zombie Bobsled Team, but it really speaks for itself!

For some reason there exists official art of "Mullet Zombie", the Zomboni driver without his vehicle and hat. And for an even somer reason, they put it on the box art for the DS version! PvZ1 is simply very strange when it comes to official key art. Messed up.

#zomboni #zombie bobsled team #zamboni #frank j zamboni #utah #plants vs zombies #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako #long post

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mrsackermannx · 6 months

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— A GOOD DEED | GOJO SATORU

MDNI | nsfw drabble, jealous roommate satoru, no curses au, mentions of body hair (shaving, trimming), female oral receiving, porn with plot, slight marking, use of “princess,” satoru is obsessed with his roommate, unfinished draft. | 2.3k |

AN | ive had this lurking in my drafts for way too long so i thought i’d clear it <3

You were so annoying, not annoying in the same way Gojo was, but almost worse, or so he thought. He was utterly obsessed with you and not in the way most guys eventually found themselves with their pretty female roommate, but in the, if Gojo could fix any problem you faced, he would, no questions asked.

In the way he noticed his best friend was with the people he cared about, how Geto always asks his girls or his friends, “Have you eaten? Do you want to eat? Are you stressed right now?” Frowning and almost pouting, as he tenderly asks, “Are they working you too hard? Is it too hard on you?”

It was also eerily similar to Nanami’s unflinching nature, firm and unyielding whenever he insisted he could take on whatever job was plaguing his juniors. Gojo often found himself in the same boat; he couldn’t admit it without smirking, but he loved to help. He loved to fix. He had a weird little rule where he challenged himself to six good deeds a day; six was his lucky number, and he liked the fuzzy feeling he got whenever he did something nice for someone.

But that’s why you were so infuriating. You never let him do a thing. It drove him crazy. He hated it because he wanted you to take up space, but he was also Gojo fucking Satoru, and he wanted to run you ragged with your own game.

Any day now.

Not to mention he had one deed left, and he knew you have a date tonight.

His first deed of the day was tugging you out of bed by your ankle. After the fifth alarm rattling so loudly from your room had made his teeth ache, he’d decided to use his first deed.

His fifth was sending Megumi a large sum of money, which he called a contribution to “the fun fund.” Megumi was over studying veterinary medicine in Musashino, but he simply wanted him to indulge in some student life whilst he buried himself in the books.

He let out a deep, satisfied sigh as he watched Megumi’s messages ping and then stack on his lock screen one by one. He was parked in front of the house, admiring the hot pink beams of colour embracing the horizon of the neighbourhood. It looked like summer, but the crisp air reminded him of the sweet calls of fall.

Toasted marshmallows, candy apples, pumpkins, and the fireplace crackling as some Christmas classic played on the tv. All with you.

He glanced in his rearview at your car parked snugly behind him; knowing you were already home sent excitement shooting through him like caffeine. In hurried yet swift movements, he’d already stepped out of the driver's seat, thrusting the keys into the door and turning it.

The scent of you clung to the air and filled the air with warmth, and it was unmistakably you. Even if he was at work, he could place it in the elevator, by the vending machine, wherever you went, you left a mark.

But here’s the thing: You weren’t infuriating just because you’d kicked your work shoes off beside the welcome mat without lining them up. Or because walking down the corridor felt like walking into a sauna from how scalding you’d had your shower, nor the noises of you humming and singing along to the energetic music you were playing to get ready to, it was something else entirely that Gojo struggled to put his finger on.

Your bedroom door had been swung open as you sang along in your bathroom, so he walked in, his steps slow and gentle as he wandered toward the display of your bed. A little black dress with blue lace panties laid out as if the dress was wearing them. He surmised that because a bra was missing, it meant you weren’t wearing one.

An emotion hit him so square in the gut that his teeth clenched as your music rang out into the corridor. He walked a little down the hall, and there you were, bathroom door ajar, in a silky little robe, earrings in, blinking your lashes into the thick curled wand of your mascara.

You looked beautiful, and you smelt like heaven. Whatever butters and oils you slathered your skin in after you’d showered lingered in the house and smelt just like sweet icing.

Your face lit up as you saw him coaxing open the door. “Heyy, you!”

He lingered at the door first, looking at every part of you. He was shameless about it too, until you laughed nervously and broke the tension, “Been a while for you or something? Here I thought you and Sugu jacked each other off sometimes.”

He chuckled, finally breaking his eyes away from your lips, “Not since college!”

You swallowed as he sauntered in, hands slotted in his pockets, his height alone swallowing you up before he finally sat on the edge of your bath, looking up at you in awe. “Going out with Shoko or something?” he asked, pretending to care about the notifications he was swiping away on his watch.

“No, I have a date…” You stood on your tiptoes as you swiped the mascara off of your eyelids with a cotton swab, “Remember? That guy I’ve been talking to?”

Gojo’s eyes wandered up and down the backs of your thighs. They glistened under the lights of the bathroom with whatever lotion you’d applied. The sight made his fists clench at his side. With his mouth dry, he blinked as he said, “Oh? Hmm…think I remember. The guy that still lives with his mom, right?”

You snorted, tapping at your speaker to turn down your music. You turned to him, “And you live with me. How many girls have liked that, huh?”

“I want you here,” he said simply, “Humans aren’t meant to be alone, you know? You save on rent in the city, and I get to have you here.”

You laughed sweetly, the tension leaving the air as you turned your music back up. “I don’t know who’s getting the better deal here, hm?”

“Watching you doll yourself up is plenty of fun for me,” he hummed, folding his arms and leaning back, taking you in as you fluttered a brush across your cheekbones.

“Oh? Is it? Which part?”

You checked the time and then furrowed your brow a little, quickly moving on to your hair. He smiled at the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, turning your face this way and that to catch the way your hair was framing your face. It was as if you didn’t know what suited you, but Gojo felt like every single thing you tried was perfect. “All of it,” he said, his voice impossibly low as he ran his fingers over his undercut.

You smiled at his answer, ignoring the way it made your heart race.

“Well good.” Your swift movements made his heart thud, the lantern sleeves of your robe swishing over your wrists and falling down your forearms so you looked like an angel blessing his vision.

He crossed his legs together, blue eyes never tearing from you, he was watching so closely he noticed your robe tug loose. The silken belt giving out within its loops and then ballooning down to your sides.

He held his breath as you leaned forward to change the song, the silk hitching open and revealing the soft slithers of your breasts. He inhaled a deep breath and turned just slightly away for a second. He should tell you, but he won’t. Not when you’re so focused, right?

“Where’s he taking you?”

The bite in his question makes you internally flinch.

“He said it was a surprise.”

He scoffed, “A surprise, or is he gonna drop you a pin to a restaurant downtown?”

You gave up on your hair, but Gojo didn’t mind because he liked it like that. A little messy and all glossy from whatever you always used. You turned to him with an unreadable expression, hand on one hip as you regarded him, “What do you want me to do? The only true gentlemen left are like…Kento.”

He shrugged, fighting everything to keep looking at your done-up face, ignoring the silk of your robe that was now splitting open with velocity. He eyed the bottle and then the glass of champagne beside your makeup bag. It must not have been your first glass because you weren’t noticing.

He wondered if you were drinking to ease any nerves and found himself growing all the more prickly.

He hummed thoughtfully. “If I was taking you out, I’d take you to Miguel’s Michelin star to get some real food. Get the best seat in the house,” his thumb stroked his chin in mock thought. “Have us driven, perhaps?”

“Well, you’re not,” you tripped on your words and then instinctively reached out for your glass to swig the last of its contents.

“As if you’re such a gentleman, huh?”

He returned your snark ten fold. “Oh, me, no? That’s why I’ve not told you that your robe’s coming undone.”

You looked down, your robe a deep v exposing your centre but still covering everything important. You kept your eyes locked but lifted your chin in feigned triumph, “It’s supposed to be this way.”

“Oh? My bad,” he said, standing suddenly, making you freeze at the movement. Time seemed to slow as he closed the distance between you both, his hands closing over yours. The heat of his skin on yours made all your hurry to be ready dissipate. It was as if he stopped time just by making contact with you.

“Oh you look nervous, princess.” He sighed, “Got nothing underneath or something?”

You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze, finding your eyes fixed on the crisp shirt tucked into his tailored black pants. He must have already taken off his suit jacket, you thought. “Then why does it matter if it opens?”

“I’m gonna be late,” you weakly offered as he trailed his finger down the side of your neck. He tutted, grinning at the way your lip quivered.

“Just sayin’ this guy should be on his knees. He’s lucky he even gets a date with you,” he hummed, running his thumb across your collarbone. “Shall I show you how?”

You only managed to lick your lips, feeling a heat pool in your core as he lowered himself slowly. He hissed something in Japanese as he slid his palm up and down the side of your thigh, peering up at you with curious eyes, gauging your every reaction.

He took your waist and suddenly pushed you up against the wall, hooking your thigh over his shoulder. You grabbed onto him, making him laugh as he kissed your knee, one hand firmly on your waist. “You’re not gonna fall, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?”

He grinned up at you, running his hand up and down your calf as he avoided your question, “Oof. Shaved your legs, huh?”

You could feel every single part of your body heat, “I’m wearing a dress, so.” You pushed your robe between your legs, trying to hide that you were wearing nothing underneath.

He toyed with the belt of your robe, tugging easily at the end of the bow until it fell open. Your pubic hair was trimmed and neat, and the sight made Gojo’s cock harden.

“Mm, cute,” he whispered, running his thumb over your cunt until he brushed your clit. You whined into your palm, eyes fluttering shut. “So, what are you gonna let me do with you?” he drawled, his voice so seductive it made your ears burn.

“Nothing,” you stammered, but he watched your pussy twitch before his eyes, slick pooling out of you. “I’ve got a date and I’ve got high hopes for this one.”

“Oh? Is that why you gave yourself this cute little haircut?” He threw back his head and laughed, “I don't think he deserves to see this. But I do.”

“You shouldn’t be seeing it.” You whimpered as he used his thumb to drag your slick all over, “Satoru. Don’t make a mess. I just showered.”

“Nuh uh. You’re making the mess, baby.” He clutched your hip harder, painting your arousal all over with all four of his fingers.

You moaned as he smeared your juices all over, “How are you gonna show Mr. Loser now?” He leaned forward, his breath against your sex as he kissed along the crease of your inner thigh, latching his mouth there. He sucked so hard you bucked your hips forward and when he pulled away, a dark stamp of his mouth was left, blooming and bruised.

“Satoru!” you groaned.

“Because I’m such a gentleman, I’ll clean you up, yeah? Least I can do.”

“D-don’t!”

He grinned, “Oh? Here, I thought you were running late.” He glanced purposely at the slick dripping down your inner thigh. He swiped it and sucked, “Think of it as my last good deed for the day.”

You eagerly nodded, almost shrieking as he lurched forward and took your clit into his mouth. He suckled it between his lips, flicking his tongue up and down until your legs shook. You grasped onto his hair as he buried his face into you with loud slurps and groans. He hummed with every sound you made, and in minutes, you were climaxing into his mouth, gushing and making even more mess. “So perfect, baby.”

He went back in, holding your clit captive in his mouth until you forcibly shoved him away. He stood, smirking at you as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Oop, he’s calling. Better get to that date.”

He left you, walking out as if he’d not just given you the best orgasm you’d ever had. You were barely able to stand as you scrambled to answer the phone. You debated still going, because you didn’t know how you would face Gojo now.

When you joined him in the living room, he was reclined back, arms supporting his head as he watched a movie, throwing candy into his mouth every few seconds. He looked like he’d just taken a load off, like eating your cunt like it was his last meal had somehow revitalised him.

#divider creds: @dvluc <3 #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #biggest munch of the jjk men im telling u <3

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torscrawls · 1 year

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The Suspicious Wayne Family

Summary:

“Well, several of them have come back from the dead so I just had to check it out for myself!”

Tim felt himself go cold. “…How do you know that?”

“Ghosts take note if someone manages to come back from the dead, you know?” Phantom leaned in and lowered his voice as if sharing an embarrassing secret, “It’s a terrible faux pas.”

Phantom comes to Tim with some concerns about the Wayne family. Tim really isn’t ready to deal with this.

Words: 2 023

Can be read on AO3!

“Augh!” Phantom groaned as he slumped across Tim’s desk in the Watchtower, utterly ignoring the fact that Tim was very much in the middle of work.

Tim, used to several dramatic siblings without any concept of personal space, simply sighed and tried to shove him off the desk. “Can you go be dramatic somewhere else? Some people are actually trying to get some work done.”

Phantom ignored him as he fused himself halfway into the desk, preventing Tim from depositing him onto the floor, much to Tim’s annoyance. Instead, Phantom groaned and splayed his arms wider, completely blocking Tim’s view of the screen. “You wouldn’t believe what just happened!”

Tim heaved a deep sigh as he gave up on work for now, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and asked, “Alright, I’ll bite. What happened?”

Phantom immediately perked up. “Thanks for asking! You see, I was minding my own business—”

“Getting up to your usual shit,” Tim muttered under his breath as he sipped his coffee.

Phantom ignored him as he continued, “—when I ran across this huge house and there was this guy inside, which I know isn’t that strange by itself. But! He was reaaal big, and he had this white strip in his hair, which, I know, is a bit hypocritical for me to comment on, but this guy looked like such a try-hard—but anyway, he just attacked me on sight! With guns! Sure, they were regular guns, not ecto ones, so you know, I was fine, but still! So rude!”

Tim choked on his coffee. A huge and angry guy in a big house with white in his hair? That sounded awfully familiar… Hadn’t Jason mentioned that he would drop by the mansion today? Tim coughed to clear his throat and then managed a weak, “That’s… weird.”

Ah. So that’s what Damian had meant when he called in a disturbance in the air earlier. They hadn’t believed him since the cameras hadn’t picked anything up, but if it had been a ghost… Maybe he owed his little brother an excuse. Not that he would ever admit that to said little brother, but still. And that also meant that Phantom had definitely been in the Wayne mansion.

Tim sucked in a deep breath. “That’s definitely worrying.” Phantom didn’t need to know that he wasn't talking about him getting attacked by a sword. Why the fuck had Phantom been at their house?!

Phantom nodded with a laugh. “Right? We didn't even know each other yet! Usually people don’t attack me with a sword until I’ve at least introduced myself first. Or, well, not always, but I can usually at least figure out why they attack me, you know?”

Tim didn’t know and decided not to comment on that worrying statement, instead focusing on gathering information instead. Familiar territory and all that. “What were you even doing in a random big house in the first place?”

“Not just any house!” Phantom wagged his finger. “They’re the Waynes! Which, okay, I didn’t really know a lot about them but my friend said that they are famous or something. And I believe her! The house was like a mansion!”

“Alright,” Tim allowed, congratulating himself on how unbothered he sounded as he parsed through Phantom’s excited rambling. “Why were you in the Wayne mansion, then?”

“Well, several of them have come back from the dead so I just had to check it out for myself!”

Tim felt himself go cold. “…How do you know that?”

“Ghosts take note if someone manages to come back from the dead, you know?” Phantom leaned in and lowered his voice as if sharing an embarrassing secret, “It’s a terrible faux pas.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Yeah!” Phantom nodded before pausing with a frown. “Wait. How do you know that they have died?”

“Of course I do. I’m a detective in Gotham and they are well-known in the city.”

“Hmmm…” Phantom trailed off, and Tim was tensing up in preparation for an argument, but then the ghost perked up as if remembering something. “And Bruce! Bruce Wayne! I’m pretty sure he trains his kids to be like child soldiers or something. Maybe he even uses them as his minions in secret evil schemes!”

Tim felt himself start to sweat. “Let’s—let’s talk to Batman about this.”

“The Gigabat? Why?”

“He might know the best approach.” Might know any approach, cause Tim certainly didn't.

“Alright. Sure,” Phantom agreed easily and followed as Tim hurried out into the corridor, seemingly blissfully unaware of the panic he had caused.

How on earth had they been noted by ghosts without knowing about it? How had Phantom managed to stumble upon this information? If had managed to find the mansion, what else had he managed to put together…? Had he seen the cave?

Tim pushed upon the door to Bruce’s office and walked in as confidently as he could manage at the moment. “B? Phantom has some… concerns he wants to bring up.”

Bruce had turned away from his screens as they entered the room, no doubt ready to admonish them for disturbing him, but something in Tim’s voice must have tipped him off that something was going on because he turned fully towards them and simply demanded, “What is it?”

Phantom didn’t waste any time before bluntly stating, “I think we should investigate the Wayne family. I think they might be a crime syndicate, possibly even supervillains.”

It wasn’t often that Tim saw Bruce at a loss for words. Tim couldn’t blame him as he himself had to restrain himself not to visibly wince at Phantom’s words.

Phantom on the other hand seemed not to notice as he continued, “I thought you would like to know, what with them being in Gotham and all? Really, I’m surprised you didn’t know about them already.”

“Why would you assume they are supervillains?” Bruce asked and Tim was impressed by how calm he sounded.

“Oh, well, you know… The kids all have obvious combat training, the house is riddled with weapons, and the family seems awfully involved with all the major catastrophes in Gotham as well as all the major villains,” Phantom said casually before pausing as he tapped a finger to his lips in thought and adding as an afterthought, “and, of course, because of the secret lair beneath the mansion.”

Well, that answered Tim’s earlier question whether he had seen the Batcave or not. He was very grateful for Bruce and his frankly terrifying poker face as the older man just said, “That’s quite the list…”

Phantom beamed. “Thank you!”

“And why did you start investigating them?”

“Well, on top of all the gossiping grannies mobbing me in the Zone to talk about the young men using the afterlife like some sort of revolving door, I know a thing or two about evil billionaires with hidden identities and Bruce Wayne just screams secrets, you know?”

Bruce didn’t answer, Tim just stared. Phantom clapped his hands, “So. When are we starting the investigation?”

Bruce shook his head, took a deep breath and said, “We’re not investigating them.”

Phantom looked surprised for a split second before raising a single eyebrow, “Is it because he’s so rich? Oh! Is that why you have so many expensive gadgets?”

“What.”

“I mean, that’s why you want to look the other way, right? Because he pays you?” Phantom turned wide eyes on Tim. “All of you?”

Bruce simply stared as Tim managed a weak, “No?” Even if, technically, he was getting paid by Bruce Wayne.

Phantom leaned in closer to Tim and whispered. “Do you guys need help? I’ve beaten up billionaires before, I can do it again.”

“Thanks? But no thanks. Please don’t beat up Bruce Wayne.”

Phantom gasped, turning back to Bruce with way too much delight in his eyes. “It’s consensual? Wait. Does that mean he's your sugar daddy?!”

“This conversation is over.”

“What?! Why?”

“You can’t come in here with baseless assumptions about civilians and expect me to play along.”

“Alright. Not your sugar daddy, I get it,” Phantom said with a wink towards Tim, “But I thought you guys would want to at least look into it a bit more?”

“They Waynes are not a problem,” Bruce all but growled out.

Phantom raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” The words said as a challenge but Tim could see no anger or annoyance in Phantom’s expression, hear nothing but glee in his voice. It was as if he didn’t want Bruce to really look into them, as if he was just looking to rile him up.

Something about the whole situation made Tim pause.

It was a bit strange that Phantom came to them with this, wasn't it? He had no reason to think that they were connected to the Waynes by more than the city they lived in. He usually did his own thing, and he had done that by going to the mansion at first, hadn't he? So what had changed? Why had he decided to involve Tim?

The glee, the probing questions, the way he slowly revealed more information… It was almost as if he—

“Wait a second. You know!”

Phantom burst out laughing. “Finally! Ancients, I thought you would see through me in like one second flat!”

Tim punched him in the arm. “You’re such an ass! I can’t believe you!” Phantom just kept on cackling.

Unsurprisingly, Bruce seemed to catch on pretty quickly as he stood up from his chair, looming over Phantom threateningly. Or trying to, as Phantom was still floating a good few feet in the air. “And you figured this out from other ghosts?”

Phantom snorted and wiped at his eyes. “Mostly. Contrary to popular belief, the dead do talk. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it, not many of them ever visit the Human Realm and I can guarantee that they have no idea who you are. They are not up to date when it comes to human affairs.”

Bruce frowned and Tim immediately recognized his patented brooding face. “That’s a security risk I hadn’t considered.”

It must have hurt him to admit it, but Tim couldn’t really take any joy in it; he was right there with him. Tim groaned as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Aren’t they supposed to not tell any secrets?!”

Phantom laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, they very much do.”

“Well, considering a certain someone, I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Tim said with a pointed look at Phantom.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” Phantom exclaimed in mock anger. “Have you guys considered not dying? I mean, man, I thought I had a problem with staying alive.”

Bruce cut them off with a no-nonsense, “You will not tell anyone about this.”

Phantom mimed zipping his lips shut. “Silent as the grave.” Then he pursed them in thought before adding, “On one condition.”

Tim saw the way Bruce tensed and couldn’t help the way he himself also tensed with anticipation. Phantom could ask for anything.

“What?” Bruce asked bitingly.

“I want some of those cookies that were in the oven. They smelled amaaaazing!”

Bruce silently turned back to his monitor, not gracing that with an answer. Tim grabbed a hold of Phantom’s—thankfully currently corporeal—arm and dragged him from the room as he said, “I’m sure Alfred would love to give you some cookies. You can come over for dinner and we can talk.” Tim paused and then continued, “And you can explain what’s going on to Jason and Damian. I’m sure they’re both freaking out.”

“Non-living dinner?” Phantom asked hopefully and the bizarre question almost made Tim stop walking.

“Yeah? Alfred usually cooks it first.”

“Sure, but, you know, does it stay dead?”

“Yes?” Tim asked with equal parts incredulity and dread.

“Alright!” Phantom beamed. “Count me in!”

Tim had a feeling that he had just made a grave mistake.

#dp x dc #dp #danny phantom fic #dp fic #danny phantom fanfic #dp fanfic #phic #there's big gremlin danno energy in this one #and it might be a spiritual (ha!) follow-up to Mad Scientists #just danny getting his revenge #my writing

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