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nelapanela94 · 2 years

Note

I found out that you’re looking to write Dad!Levi and Fluff? Well i cooked up a request that includes both 🥺 feel free to ignore it if its not your type.

It’s AckerBaby’s first day of school. You’d expect the reader to be the emotional parent having a hard time saying goodbye. But its actually Levi.

Just Levi and Reader dealing with this realization of their little bean growing up 🥺

MIAAAAAAA THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!

tw: fluff, post-war, Dad!Levi

The walls of your house had swallowed Isabel. You had been looking for her for the last fifteen minutes, unsuccessfully. She had disappeared. Your four-year-old was waiting in her bedroom for you to finish ironing her jumper. The last moment you saw her, she was sitting at the edge of the bed, pouting, with her arms crossed over her chest.

And she was gone once you returned to her room.

The mini version of Levi had been upset, even insolent for the entire week because her first day of school was approaching, and having to face this new stage of her life made her anxious.

Levi glanced at you as soon as you entered the kitchen. He was preparing breakfast and packing Isabel’s lunch.

“I can’t find her anywhere.” You let out a sigh of defeat. The ravenette rolled the eyes and took his apron off. “I’ll take care of the brat.” he said and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Thanks.”

“It’s not your fault, y/n. She’s just nervous, and will get over it soon.”

Isabel would listen to him. After all, she used to spend the whole day with Levi at the tea shop while you worked at the postal office from 9 to 5. An unbreakable bond had bloomed between those two; a bond only they shared, and although you had tried to shrug that obnoxious feeling off, sometimes jealousy slithered through your chest like a venomous snake.

Delving in the drawer, you searched for the whisker, and the corners of your mouth turned upwards. Isabel loved pancakes.

You mixed all the ingredients in the bowl as you moved to the rhythm of the song from the radio.

Levi leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest, and with squinting eyes, he scanned Isabel’s room. “Don’t make me count to three, brat”

“One, two,” he granted her one more second, “and…”

“Wait!” the shrill, tiny voice gushed out from under the bed, and a victorious grin replaced Levi’s stern grimace.

Isabel crawled out, wiping her glossy eyes before staring at her father. “Don’t you love me anymore?” She climbed up to the bed.

Levi let out a sigh and took a seat next to her. “Why do you think so?”

She looked down, jutting out her lower lip. “Because you want to send me away” Levi muffled a snort by biting his lips “I want to go to the tea shop with you like every day.”

“c’mere,” he patted his left leg, and the little girl sat on his lap. “We can’t always get what we want, and it isn’t always fun,” he embraced his bundle of joy. “It’s ok to feel apprehensive by the unknown, but don’t let your fears take over.” His eyes softened as he pressed his lips on her head. “You’ll meet other kids, learn new things, play games, and I’ll be there to pick you up every afternoon.”

“But what if I’m not good enough?”

“Just try your best in everything you do.”

A mix of pride and sadness stirred in his chest. All of a sudden, his little baby was not so little. You and Levi had been the staple in her life since the moment she came into this world, thus it was not easy for you to let go.

“Dad” Isabel jumped off and rummaged through the backpack for her notebook and a crayon, then came back to Levi who threw an inquisitive look at her. “Put your hands here” she opened her notebook on a random page, but he only placed his left hand. “Both!”

Fine.

Levi watched her carefully tracing the outline of his hands and the ghost of a smile drew on his lips. Those simple acts meant the world to him.

“Now, I’ll always have you with me,” she beamed. “Whenever I think of you, I’ll put my hands on yours”

Levi ignored the jolts of pain that stabbed his right leg as he kneeled down to her level. He hugged her tight, as if he was afraid to lose her, the same way he hugged you before embarking on a new expedition back in the survey corps. His lower lips quivered and tears filled his eyes. Why did she have to grow so fast?

While wandering aimlessly between losses and farewells, he found you unleashing a hurricane of emotions he had never felt before, cracking the walls he had built around his heart to fill him with your light. You, natural disaster that turned his world upside down.

His joy, his reason, his cause.

Years later, between fear and illusion, Isabel joined your lives. She was born in late July. Him, a winter boy; her, a summer girl. His princess in pajamas and braided hair.

Tiny and innocent, with her tangled black hair, he still couldn’t believe she was half you, half him. Tears flooded his eyes when he held her in his arms. It was the first time you saw him crying.

It was not long ago that he had taught her how to walk, and when she said ‘dada’ for the first time, he felt the proudest dad in the world.

They played in the living room, drinking imaginary tea, while she looked at him with such adoration. Sometimes he wondered if he was worthy of that innocent love.

No one would have guessed how great he was at being a dad.

He felt indebted to you for granting him all the happiness in the universe, for giving him what he could’ve never dreamed of. You and Levi had created a family together.

“Dad, are you crying?”

Dad cries too.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He pulled apart and wiped his tears. “I just... I’ll miss you too.” She kissed him on the scar of his cheek.

“Let’s get you dressed; we don’t want to be late for your first day.”

You smiled when Isabel and Levi stepped into the kitchen. She ran towards you, extending her arms for a hug. “I love you, mom”

“I love you too, Izzy.” You glanced at Levi with an inquiry look, and he simply shrugged, smiling at you.

Isabel’s first day of school was such an emotional event, thus you immortalized the treasured moment with a photograph of your two favorite people in the world.

#levi aot #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reade #dad levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi x reader #fluff

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

Text

angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

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joonsrack · 4 years

Text

+Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

+Genre: One shot (maybe an eventual series). It’s not fluff, it’s not angst, it’s....idk i’m bad at this.

+Word count: 2.1k

+Summary:

“Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.”

Meeting your boss in a BDSM club is probably the last thing you were expecting coming here.

+Warnings: NSFW (nothing graphic but story takes places in a BDSM club), BDSM themes, implied switch namjoon, implied dom reader, i know nothing about BDSM and BDSM clubs, don’t @ me. (if i should have tagged anything else pls let me know uwu)

+A/N: This is my first reader x member type of fic, and i gotta say, it was pretty fun. I wrote this for the Secret Santa event organized by the amazing people at BTS writers collective, as a gift for the lovely @freekyegg 💖💖💖. You said your fave namjoon was harness and choker namjoon, so my brain went straight for the kinky stuff.... I hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! Also this fic has nothing to do with Christmas, idk how that happened..

ENORMOUS thank you to @spicykoreantatertots who edited this on a 2 hour deadline, when it wasn’t even finished yet 🥰💖

Of all the places you thought you’d be spending your Friday night, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, discussing SSC and setting up your membership, was not one of them. But here you are, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, going through the terms and conditions of your membership.

Jung Hoseok smiles at you before handing you a gold pen. The man looks immaculate in his double breasted gray suit, not a crease in sight. Despite his smile, there’s a dangerous aura to him. One of complete and utter control.

“Sign here, here, and here. It’s very important that you respect these rules, for everyone’s safety. We also insist that first timers stick to observation during their first visit. Wear this.” He says, putting down a red bracelet on the desk before you. “Then other customers will know not to propose you. You can also choose to wear this bracelet whenever you feel like just watching from the sidelines.” You hand him back the membership contract after you’ve finished signing on all the proper lines, and he examines your signature before nodding in approval. “There’s a bar at everyone’s disposal, but we don’t allow heavy alcohol consumption, since we prioritize clear consent.”

The nameplate on the desk with 'Jung Hoseok - Headmaster' engraved in cursive makes you feel like you’re back in high school. Except this is not high school, and sitting on the other side of the desk is a successful attractive young man, not a bald idiot.

“There’s some private rooms to everyone’s disposition, which you can either reserve in advance or the same night depending on the availability. We have one room for people who like to have an audience, which we call the Window Room.”

You nod along with him, a little overwhelmed by all the information. He smiles reassuringly at you, noticing your deer in the headlights look. It feels more predatory than anything else.

“There's single mixers every last Thursday of each month, open to the BDSM community, and sometimes there’s special events, themed nights or performances, which are posted on the website. Any questions?”

You shake your head, feeling so far out of your element, sitting in this chair, about to enter a whole new world you’ve been fantasizing about but never dared to seek out.

It took your best friend, Taehyung, digging a little too deep in your closet for one of your blouses and finding your box of accessories and outfit. You had flushed a deep red in embarrassment at having your secret exposed, but your friend had been quick to reassure you there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Then he’d shocked you into admitting he had a similar interest.

“You asked me once why I have a leash at home when I don’t own a dog.” He had said, shrugging one shoulder, and that had been an eye opening moment for you.

And then, after revealing you’d never shared with anyone your interest for all things leather, whip and power dynamic, he had talked to you about this club.

“It’s called Club Dionysus. It’s for people interested in BDSM. There are spaces reserved for scenes, but you can also just chill at the bar and observe. It could be good for you, to explore this side of you, you know? Without any pressure to participate in anything.”

A few days later, after a hellish week of dealing with your tyrannic boss, distracting yourself with a new experience seemed like an excellent idea.

The corset is hugging your body just right, your sheer stockings held in place by some garter and disappearing into your leather pencil skirt. The heels you have on would never be appropriate for a setting other than this one, making you feel like there’s power to each of your steps.

It’s definitely not the kinkiest outfit you own, but you chose to keep it tame for you first visit.

Taehyung is waiting just outside the door as Hoseok dismisses you from his office, wishing you an excellent time. He steers you toward the bar area, but that doesn’t stop you from mapping out the place. You had sneaked a peak at the club before being ushered into the Headmaster’s office, but it’s still a lot to take in once you’re finally free to let your eyes roam around.

The general theme colour seems to be dark palettes, dark wood details, and a little touch of red here and there, but definitely less than you were expecting. There’s the bar corner, which looks like any other club, save maybe for the bartender’s outfit. There’s some tables and then an open space, but it doesn’t seem to be for dancing, judging from the handcuffs hanging from the ceiling.

“For public punishment.” Taehyung specifies once he sees what you zeroed on.

You try to act unaffected, but it’s definitely going to stay in the back of your mind.

There’s a hallway that leads to a few closed doors, some with signs on them. It’s probably safe to assume these are “occupied” signs. Then there's a corner with a small stage, where those performances Hoseok mentioned probably take place. A Saint Andrew’s cross is placed on it, which you were kind of expecting, coming here.

Then, there’s a ceiling to floor window, giving into a darkened room.

You leave Taehyung at the bar waiting for you drinks, curious about what is standing on the other side. The room is dark, so you need to stick your face to the glass and shield your eyes from the light to see anything beyond the window.

You see some outlines, but you can’t make out exactly what’s in there, other than some dark furniture. You push your face even closer, tightening the shield around your eyes.

“You’re allowed to peak inside through the door, you know.” Someone says from behind you, startling you from how close they sound.

Your body seizes up in fight or flight response, survival instinct kicking in at the familiar voice. You know it so well; Too well. It follows you all day long, barking orders left and right, calling you at all hours to add to your workload. And then it wakes you up in the middle of the night, most of the time from stress nightmares.

Most of the time.

You deliberate about turning around and facing the most humiliating moment of your life, or just going straight for the exit without turning back. There isn't a lot of patrons in the bar right now, so the path to the door is probably clear. The only problem is that your feet are grounded to the floor, your heels feeling like they're suddenly made of concrete.

There's a little voice in the back of your mind whispering something that resemble 'Don't forget he's here too', but right now all you’re able to focus on is the presence you can feel, hovering over your shoulder.

That's probably what describes best your relationship, him hovering over your shoulder.

Kim Namjoon has been breathing down your back since the first day you started working as his personal assistant, making your every waking moment a living hell. Go figure he would be doing it here too.

You brace yourself for his usual cold demeanour. You're persuaded this man hates you, always bossing you around and criticizing your every move.

You aren’t expecting the soft grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

Neither are you expecting… everything else.

Gone is his everyday slicked back hairstyle, his silver hair coiffed into a more relaxed, swoop to the side look. He’s wearing this black satin blouse with see through sleeves and leather jeans, which is already a lot to compute, quite different from the suit you’re used to seeing him in. What makes your brain short circuit though, is the harness.

A leather belt cinches his slim waist, two leather straps attached to it, running over his strong shoulders. There’s two leather cuff on each of his wrist, over the sleeves ends, and the harness look is completed by a simple black choker, looking stark against Namjoon’s neck.

You feel your mouth go dry, your breathing getting a little short and heart beating a little faster.

All because of the stress of meeting your boss here, of course. No other reason at all.

“Hello sir.” You say, finally finding your voice. Your head is in a state of chaos, your brain on a loop of everything going on with Namjoon’s outfit.

“Rule #6 if I remember correctly; Relationships and dynamic with people you might know outside of these walls do not apply inside Club Dionysus.” Namjoon recites, eyes on your red bracelet. He takes a very small step back that doesn’t do anything for the lack of space between you.

You would feel caged in, except he has his hands in his back.

You’re not exactly sure why he’s telling you that, although you vaguely remember Jung Hoseok mentioning this earlier. The confusion must show on your face, because Namjoon carries on.

“You don’t need to address me as sir here.” He says, his smile turning sharper. “That is… unless we’ve previously agreed upon that.”

Oh. Oh.

There’s something happening here. A shift in the air. A glint in his eyes.

You swallow, and it sounds ten times louder than usual, despite the soft background music.

“I- hm. Interesting.” You’ve probably never sounded so dumb, but you can’t think over the sirens going off in your head.

This is a weird situation. Something you were not expecting, not in a million years. And how could you?

Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.

Unaware of your internal struggles, Namjoon snorts at your lack of response, looking...endeared? Is that the correct word? Is your obvious lack of brain cells endearing to him?

“I’m not your boss here, and you’re not my personal assistant.”

“Ehrm, I see. Should I call you Mr.Kim then?”

“If you wish to.” He says, looking particularly amused by your awkwardness.

Which, rude. This is a stressful place to meet your boss, how dare he.

“If I wish to, huh? So, I could choose to call you anything I’d like?” You can’t stop the slight flare of temper, not liking being made fun off. If he wants you to treat him as an equal, then treat him as an equal you will.

Namjoon nods once, his tongue quickly wetting his lips before adding, “Of course I will need to agree to it beforehand.”

You catch Taehyung from the corner of your eyes, waving at you from the bar with a question mark on his face. Namjoon follows your line of sight, focusing on your friend and frowning.

“Would you agree to being called ‘baby boy’, then?” you taunt, standing straighter than you have so far.

He snaps his attention back to you, looking taken aback by the switch of demeanor.

You can’t stop your mind from conjuring the memory of those dreams, the one that wake you up in the middle of the night. Blurs of a long body tied to a bed, a diamond choker sparkling on his neck, a voice, usually hard, sounding soft and whimpery.

The wide eyed look Namjoon is giving you is pretty close to the one you usually see on his face during those short nighttime visits.

“I-” He says, but stops, looking flustered. You feel a growing satisfaction at having reversed the roles.

The novelty of the situation, that left you feeling unsteady, is starting to subside, leaving you sure footed in your stilettos.

You purse your lips, cocking a brow.

“Only if you agree, of course.”

You see his throat work, making his choker shift as he swallows once, then twice.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not allowed to take part in the events tonight,” You say, showing off your bracelet. “so I guess we should keep this discussion for next time.” You side step him, never breaking eye contact.

“After all, we need to talk about what you’re going to call me, too.”

“In fact,” He finally says after a moment of silence, his earlier confidence replaced by something more tentative. “we should discuss it in great detail.” He finishes.

You smile in lieu of a response, before giving one last appreciative look to his attire, lingering on the black choker. You feel his eyes on you as you make your way back to the bar, already looking forward to next Friday.

#magicshopnet #secretsanta2019 #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #namjoon fic #i hope you enjoyed Roxy uwu

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peaches-of-1 · 5 years

Text

(BTS) Golden Lover: Chapter 4

Namjoon x Black!Reader

High Fantasy, Magic, spells, gods and goddesses

Mstrlst in bio!

Everyone was dressed up for the festival today. The stage had been built and tested all day yesterday. You, Jimin, and Hoseok were dressed in the traditional wear of both your cultures. What you wore was a stylized hanbok as did they. The word felt fun on your tongue. Hanbok. The fabric was heavier than you had expected, but you’d change into your regular celebratory clothing soon after the performance.

It was a stunning display of flexibility and skill from the three of you. Every once in a while there would be a collective “ooooo” or “ahhhh” from the audience. Bare feet moved to every perfect rhythm and every beat. You smiled with every turn and every leap. Your heart started to pound with the drums. Then it was over with a solid pose, a grin, and heavy breathing.

There was applause as the three of you bowed. That was just the opening of the festival, so your father announced in his regalia that it had officially begun after all the ritual rites had been completed. There hadn’t been much joy in the kingdom for what has felt like years.

Your hair had been taken down from their twisted state and had shrunk to its usual size. You put on your more free flowing outfit and your crown which featured cat ears. Your people tended to call you by your middle name, and you smiled at them as they did. Even as your eyes searched for one prince in particular.

They had all dressed so nicely today. Of course they would have.

“Princess!” An overactive voice called you. Prince Jin bowed. “May I have the honor of spending this evening with you?”

“Maybe not the whole evening, but you shall have my attention for the next hour. I have an important decision to make.”

He smiled, “Then I hope to be a part of it.” The oldest prince offered you his arm.

Jin took you to a stall where the two of you were served large mahshi alongside koshary. The two of you shared the meal while he described each bite in detail. He told you about the Korean dishes these would go great with and that he would love to make it for you sometime, perhaps have it served at your wedding.

“Wedding. Jin--” You started.

He looked up at you with cheeks full and an eager glint in his eyes. You had to tell him the truth.

“Prince Seokjin, my heart is not with you. I refuse to marry someone for the simple purpose of financial gains and protection.”

The disheartened prince swallowed, “I see. Is it with my brother Namjoon, then?”

You looked at the plate in front of you, “...I believe so.”

“Then I shall make sure you have his, too. Let’s finish our meal, Princess.” He smiled at you kindly.

Jin became more of himself than an heir, telling you jokes every chance he got. Sometimes it got lost in translation, but the way he told them made you laugh along with the goofy prince nonetheless. Once the meal was over with, you two walked. Seokjin told you several childhood stories about Namjoon.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were grateful the prince was being more open. It made you feel closer to him. Still, your heart was not with him as much as you tried. And you wanted it to be for your people. How much would it hurt your heart, though? To be married to the brother of the one you truly loved?

It’d be a pain greater than death.

Yoongi approached with a lion cub in his arms. He had visited earlier, and Muharib had placed this little girl in his lap. Seemed so very small, perhaps the runt of the litter. The prince asked for information in taking care of the tiny beast in order to let her grow up nice and strong.

“Please excuse me, Prince Jin.” You bowed to him.

He did the same, “By all means. I know how much these cats mean to you.”

You and Yoongi spoke in a hushed tone as to not wake the sleeping lion cub. He asked if these things extended to real children which made you laugh.

“It seems as though you’ve heard about my reputation here.”

“Healthy babies and less maternal deaths. I’m sure whoever gets to wed you will be most grateful for those gifts having come from you.”

You smiled, “I have an odd question.”

“What about?”

You bit your lip, “I am simply curious, but has Prince Namjoon ever been involved with anyone before?”

“Once, but she married a rival nation in order for there to be peace among their nations. They wrote until she ended contact with him. It’s been nearly 6 years, but he knew his love didn’t lie in someone so close to him. It would’ve been the smart marriage. Not the right one.”

“You speak as though you know what the right one would be for him.”

He grinned and his eyes did that silver gleam, “I have an informed notion.” Then Yoongi bowed. “I am glad that the black cat made it back safe with Namjoon the other day.” and he left to prepare proper transportation for his pet.

Your dance partners soon met up with you once more and spoke of the praise they had been receiving from the performance. There had been such words said to you throughout the night, but most knew what this night meant and let you be courted in peace. You asked about Prince Namjoon’s whereabouts.

Hoseok spoke, “Not sure where he went, but I saw him earlier. He said you looked quite beautiful in our traditional garb.”

Despite you knowing better, you let yourself blush, “Did he now? I hope I someday get to see him in mine.” You covered your mouth. “By that, I mean that I think he’d fit the look quite well or that he’d...oh my.”

Jimin laughed, “You’re quite adorable, Princess. A part of me does wish that we were a better fit for one another, but my eye does tend to wander from time to time.”

The three of you passed a group of young men with their dark chests bared to the outside and covered in sweat to the unending heat. White skirts were clasped at the hips in gold. Prince Jimin made unwavering eye contact with them as he brushed his hair back and licked his lips, unable to hide the smile they formed.

“This seems like the place where they do it the most, Jimin.” Hobi laughed. “Or what was the nickname that man from earlier gave you?”

“The one at the river?” The smaller man asked.

Hoseok nodded, and you listened with intrigue.

“Chim Chim.” Speaking of which. He waved at a tall man with cleancut curls.

A past suitor of yours.

“Tony!” He called out and left you two to join him.

Hoseok and you then saw Taehyung who showed you his painting that he began of the boat and the river. The three of you sat with each other and watched Jungkook sing a song he had prepared for today. Again you asked the location of Kim Namjoon. Your heart cried out for him so much more than your mouth did.

His younger brother replied, “He’s performing next, so I’m guessing he’s behind the curtain there.”

You looked for the outline of the tall gats the princes wore but could not see it. Namjoon was not behind that curtain. He couldn’t have been. You ate your words as he walked onto the stage in outfit similar to what your father wore. Many men wore this type of outfit. Shirtless with heavy jewels imbedded into a wide golden collar, but this was the first time you ever truly enjoyed the person wearing it. You swallowed.

His eyes darted across the audience, “I was asked by the Princess herself to prepare something for this night of festivity. I truly hope this pleases her…” He made eye contact with you. “I hope this pleases you, Princess (Y/N).”

He unrolled a piece of parchment and began to recite the words in a rhythm your ears did not know but loved all the same.

Is this love? Is this love? Sometimes I know Sometimes I don’t The next line What should I write? So many words are circling me But I don’t like a single one I just feel it Like the moon always rising after the sun Like nails growing, like trees shedding their leaves When winter comes You’re the one To turn my recollections into memories Before I knew you My heart was only in linear motion I’m just a person, person, person You erode all my sharp edges You make me Into love, love, love We’re people, people, people Among all of those countless linear lines My love, love, love When you sit on top, you become a heart I live so I love I live so I love Live & love, live & love Live & love, live & love I live so I love I live so I love Live & love, live & love If it’s love, I will love you You make I to an O I to an O I found out because of you Why “person” and “love” sound similar You make live to a love Live to a love I found out because of you Why a person must love as they live The distance between I and U is far but Forget JKLMNOPQRST I went past all those letters and reached you See, “me” and “you” are the same too Though that doesn’t mean I am you I want to be a part of your page I want to interfere in your story As your lover I’m just a person, person, person You erode all my sharp edges You make me Into love, love, love We’re people, people, people Among all of those countless linear lines My love, love, love When you sit on top, you become a heart I live so I love I live so I love Live & love, live & love Live & love, live & love I live so I love I live so I love Live & love, live & love If it’s love, I will love you What if I went away, what would it be like? If I leave, would you be sad? What if I wasn’t me, what would I be? Would you leave me? A blowing breeze, breeze, breeze Hoping it’s not like that A passerby person, person, person Hoping it’s not like that I feel so blue, blue, blue Do you know how much I How much I You’re my person, person, person You’re my breeze, breeze, breeze You’re my pride, pride, pride You’re my love My only love You’re my person, person, person You’re my breeze, breeze, breeze You’re my pride, pride, pride You’re my love My only love

He had confessed his feelings for you in his poem, his spoken song. You knew for sure this was the truth. The pounding of your heart and the shortness of breath at this reveal made if hard for you to think. Your feet were moving before your mind. To him. You took the ankh necklace you wore for this occasion and put it around his neck.

“Kim Namjoon, will you be my King?”

“Of course, my Queen.”

You felt so happy that you could cry. Instead you got on your tip-toes and kissed your future husband on the lips as he held you around the waist and cupped your face at the same time. There were cheers all around. Iset and Asir hugged each other, glad for their friend. You’d be marrying for love. You’d be marrying the one you loved.

And so would he. It was as if he’d hadn’t loved anyone before.

#BTS #Bangtan #Kim Namjoon #RM #RM x Reader #Reader x Namjoon #Black!Reader #ambw #bwam #bts ambw #Ancient Egypt #Trivia: Love

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fatechica · 5 years

Note

Julie julie julie!! This may result in a long response, but how do you 1) find the motivation and time to write so much (and so well) and 2) outline and plan and implement your story? -aj :) ❤️

AJ! HELLO!!

Ooh, this is a good question (and, yes, it’s gonna be a long response). Imma break it down into it’s composite parts and answer them one at a time:

(putting this under a cut since it got L O N G)

Ask me random-ass questions about my fics!

finding the motivation:

For me, I’m so in love with Mileven, that’s most of the motivation right there. I’ve been writing fic for *does the math* 22 years now (haha, holy shit that’s a long time). I’ve spent countless hours thinking up stories in my head, essentially plotting out fic ideas/scenes in my head as a form of story-telling when I’m falling asleep, and jotting down notes and outlines - it’s literally a habit for me to always be creating fiction to the point where I don’t even know how to turn if off. And Mileven (and Stranger Things as a whole, by extension) is the first thing in quite some time to fully, 100% capture and take advantage that habit.

But, that sometimes isn’t always enough to always be actually creating, so part of it is I just write a lot. I try to write every day, even just to play around with something, so I can keep the habit of actually writing going. But I don’t push it most of the time. Sometimes I will if I know it’s just a section that’s giving me problems because I can always go back and fix it. But if I’m feeling lost or unsure or just tired? I’ll write, like 400-500 words and call it a day. Just enough so I feel like I’ve accomplished something but not enough that if I hate it, it’ll kill me to get rid of it.

finding the time to write so much (the “so well” is debatable):

Ok, so, I’m pretty lucky. I work from home most of the time, I don’t have kids yet, and my husband is in class nights and weekends. I have a lot of time to myself. Since almost all of my irl friends are around the same age as I am, we mostly all get together on the weekends with the occasional happy hour after work. So I have pretty much every weeknight after 5 to write and a lot of time on weekends during my down time.

This’ll probably change when I have a kid and when my husband’s no longer in school, so I’m taking advantage of it while I have it. I pretty much spend most of my free time writing. I’ve been doing other things with it lately (like, haha, playing “The Division” in preparation for the sequel - gotta love that loot grind), but I still spend a lot of my time writing and plotting out fics because it’s fun for me.

And, about writing well? Well, if I’m a good writer, it’s only because I read a lot and I’ve written a lot over the years. Again, I’ve been writing fic for 22 years now. My fic writing career is old enough to drink, you guys, holy fucking shit.

And I’m always looking for ways to improve my writing - either by seeking feedback or emulating other writers’ styles. Sometimes, what helps, is actually printing out what I’ve written and doing hand edits and corrections, like it’s fucking essay or something. I also read a lot about story structure (I highly recommend “The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers” and Stephen King’s “On Writing” as amazing books to help) to help me think about plotting and pacing and overarching themes.

Overall, I take fic writing very seriously (which is how I approach pretty much everything in life - I’m very much a 110%, Type-A kind of person) and I treat it like a skill I want to spend time investing effort into growing and building.

outlining, planning, and implementing stories:

So, for short fics, there’s not so much outlining that happens. But for long fics (which is ALL I WRITE BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO SHORT) that’s where outlining and plotting become important to know how to keep everything straight and paced correctly.

I’m going to use “together, you and i” as my example for this since I heavily outlined and planned that fic.

First, I think really high level. Like, if I had to tell a story in 4 sentences, kind of high level. “A happened, then B, and then C, and then finally D. The End.” I call it “tent-poling”. What are the crucial points/story beats that make up the arc of my fic? For “together, you and i”, it was:

Mike and El meet as teachers

They start to get to know each other through working together.

Something happens that brings them really close

They get together

And they live happily ever after

Now, there’s not a lot of detail there, is there? This is just the tent poles, though, the structure that keeps it upright. Everything else is what comes next and that’s when I start asking questions:

What kinds of activities can teachers work on outside of their classroom duties? (Answer: chaperone dances)

Is there any thing that will plausibly get in the way of them getting together? (Answer: intrinsic personality traits; Mike is kind of awkward with his feelings and El is sometimes a little too literal about things. Also, timing: getting together right before they both have to go out of town for the holidays to delay that first date.)

Sometimes, though, you can’t ask all the questions you need. Like the origination of the plot twist in “together, you and i”. I’d pretty much had it all plotted out (like, take out the twist entirely and that’s where I was at) and was happy with what I had. But my thoughts started wandering and I ended up thinking about how Hopper in my fic was alone and it made me sad that he wasn’t with Joyce and my brain literally was all “well, why isn’t he with Joyce?” And that simple thought completely recontextualized everything. I came up with the twist and immediately everything snapped into place. So don’t be afraid to ask “why not?” to your plot.

But, of course, then you have planning. With something like a twist, it’s important to keep all your details straight. But that’s pretty much true in general for all writing. Once I have my big, high-level outline, I literally scene-by-scene outline it. I treat it like a movie or an episode of TV show. It’s the literal play-by-play. When it comes time to figure out chapters, I try to see if I can make themes or parallels that will make each chapter feel like a complete mini-story.

And then, with implementing, the key is not to be so married to your plot that you suck all the joy out of it. There were so many times where I started something and along the way went, “ooh, I should put X in there!” So, I paused and found a way to incorporate it and then went on with the readjustment. Part of incorporating those unplanned things is checking to make sure it’s not going to make things more complicated on you in the long run (my issues with my roommates au fic is a prime example of that), so it’s important to think about the ripple effect when adding new story elements just so you don’t end up with your back against a corner.

So...yeah. That’s my process. It’s taken a lot of learning to get to this point and a lot of trial and error and words I’ve written that haven’t seen the light of day, but were crucial for my development as a writer. But it’s fun and y’all seem to like the output of it, so, I say it’s time worth spent!

#the life of a fanfic writer #my process #i'm insane i think #for being this invested in fic writing #but i'll never stop #it'd be like cutting off an arm i stg #Anonymous

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spidcr-man · 6 years

Text

set it up: one ↬ t.h

summary: y/n and tom are two overworked and underpaid assistants, aspiring to be something more. what happens when the two meet and come up with a plan to get their bosses off their backs by setting them up with each other? pairing: Tom Holland x Female!Reader notes: chapter one is finally here! i hope i didn’t completely fuck this up because it’s a little short yikes. it’s also a little slow to get going, but i feel like i’ll have a ton more inspiration with the next chapter. anyways, i had a really fun time writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy it! word count: 2657 warnings: cursing date published: 062318

Shuffling out of bed, your bare feet hit the cold tile that covered the entire floor of your shoebox apartment. The only form of light was the clock to your right, reading 5:30 am in bright red block letters. Letting out a small groan, you and trudged two steps into your kitchen, lazily removing various packets from your cabinets to make your morning coffee. Ever since your boss’s divorce last summer, she made all her employees start coming in an hour earlier. It was some bullshit about wanting to have team meetings before work, but they usually ended up in her ranting about her own downs in life.

Leaving your coffee maker to its job, you went back into your room to find a suitable outfit. Just as you were about to reach down for a pair of leggings a sudden ‘POP’ comes from the kitchen, followed by the shrill sound of the smoke alarm. If you weren't awake before, you sure were now. Practically tripping over your leggings, you ran into the kitchen to see that your coffee maker had decided to completely give up―much like you wanted to. A light trail of smoke waved above the machine while coffee trickled from beneath it. Carefully unplugging the cord from the wall, you let out an audible sigh of pure exhaustion.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you huffed, standing in front of the mess, unable to properly register the situation due to a lack of sleep. Regaining your composure, you slid an Ikea brand chair out from under its matching table and climbed on top of it, tasked to stop the agonizing noise. After prying open the smoke detector cover, you forced the battery out and chucked it onto the coffee stained counter. Still standing on the chair, you averted your eyes towards the flashing microwave clock.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, hopping down from the chair and rushing into your bedroom to finish getting dressed, not bothering to put the cover back on the smoke detector or clean up the coffee coated counter. You had to be at the office by 6:30 am with a large half-caff, nonfat, soy latte, no foam on your boss’s pristine desk, and it was approximately 6:10. The walk to the coffee shop took at least 5 minutes and then another 10 or so minutes to get to the office. These measurements didn't even take into account how the busy the coffee shop would be. If you didn’t leave now you’d surely be late, which was never favorable in the eyes of someone you wanted a promotion from.

Frantically throwing your hair up into a loose ponytail and sliding on a thinner jacket, you stuffed your phone into your back pocket and ran out the door of your small apartment. The walk to the coffee shop was anything but peaceful. Normally, you had an extra five minutes or so to collect yourself before the rough day ahead, but that was not the case this morning. The speed of your walking only increased with every step you took along the surprisingly busy sidewalk. Finally arriving at the coffee shop, you kindly placed your order, requesting they put it on rush so it would come faster―it didn't. Your leg bounced up and down as your anxiously awaited your name to be called, praying that a miracle takes place. A wave of relief washed over you at the sound of your name signaling for you to come collect your coffee. Once acquiring the warm drink, you quickly turned on your heels to leave but instead, fell into someone. Not even knowing how to react, you simply looked down at the hot coffee that was once securely in your hand but was now covering your sweater and the once clean floor.

Your eyes immediately met a pair of soft, tired brown ones, “I―I 'm so sorry, “ the man spoke, trying his best to read your neutral expression. Were you going to scream? Cry? Worse yet, scream at him? No. None of that. You simply glanced down, noticing two perfectly untouched coffees wrapped in heat protectors in his hands. At this point, you were going to be late anyway, but whether you showed up with or without coffee was the question. Then without even thinking you grabbed the cup from his left hand and darted out of the door. The sound of a distant yell, fading as you made your way across the street.

Walking down the paved sidewalk, you buried your free hand into your pocket, the brisk air feeling like repeated smacks in the face with each step. Though the coffee you stole from the man just moments before warmed your hand, it offered no aid in warming up the rest of your body. Just a few more blocks and the distant outline of your office building came into view. As expected, you were late. It was only by a few minutes, but still not something your boss would easily brush over. Your feet carried you all the way to the glass building before stopping at its front, allowing you to take in your disaster of a morning. As soon as you entered the bustling building, you reached for your phone in your back pocket and sent your co-worker, Charlie an incoherent message.

Y/N: elevator with new sweater.

Once the text was sent, you swiftly made your way to the elevators, pressing the floor number in which you needed to go. The soft noise of the elevator in progress filled your ears as you patiently awaited your destination. Your thoughts only growing louder and louder with every stop that wasn’t yours. The number of your floor flashed in orange above the metal sliding door causing you to shuffle your way to the front in order to exit.

“You’re late, Y/N,” Charlie piped out, already waiting for you upon your entrance.

“Don’t remind me,” you replied as she handed you a grandma-esque sweater.

One good thing about working for a fashion company was that there were plenty of spare clothes in the dressing department, however, the inexpensive ones tended to lack the certain modernity that many these days strived for. You gave her a look that read, are you joking? only to receive a sympathetic one in return.

Glancing down the hall to your boss’s glass office windows, you could see the annoyed expression that always seemed to be plastered onto her face. She was doing her least favorite thing, paperwork. Tucking the clean sweater under your arm, you made your way past the sea of cubicles to deliver her the coffee.

Politely knocking on her door, she immediately yelled for you to come in.

“Good morning, Ms. Willem,” you greeted with a bright, fake smile that had replaced a frown from moments ago.

Her expression was anything but pleased. Ms. Willem had never been the most friendly or even kind woman but she definitely had a knack for what she did. It was one of the main reasons why you applied to be her assistant in the first place. Who better to take notes from than one of the most successful businesswomen in the workforce?

She then slowly took her reading glasses off, tossing them onto her desk as you sheepishly set the coffee in front of her. You held your breath as she picked up the biodegradable cup, bringing it to her crimson painted lips to take a sip. Her nose scrunched in disgust and she immediately threw the cup into the garbage beside her.

“Y/N, are you aware that you just handed me a pure black coffee?” she questioned, looking at you with pure distaste.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stood still, not wanting to say the wrong words in the already sticky situation.

“I know I didn’t give you the job of assistant for you to disappoint. Keep it up and you just might find yourself...well, unemployed, “ she harshly spoke, pushing herself up from her chair.

“Make sure you get those fabric pieces for Mr. Marsden. His assistant should be coming to pick them up,” she ordered before making her way towards the door. Then before leaving, she turned to you once more, “Clean up before the team meeting. You look like a mess.“

Speechless, you only turned, locking eyes with Charlie through the large glass windows who was standing up in her cubicle, offering you another sympathetic glance. You opened the heavy glass door and walked into the employee bathroom, picking a random stall to change in. The sweater was quite large and had one of the most confusing patterns you had ever seen in your life. You looked like a complete mess. After changing, you headed towards boardroom 3 knowing the rest of the department would be just starting their morning meeting. You kept your head down in embarrassment as you opened the door, scurrying to find a spot in the back so you would go unnoticed. Today’s meeting was short and surprisingly not all about Ms. Willem’s problems, which came as a shock to all.

From the boardroom you went to straight to your desk, wanting to get some work done before your boss requested your presence. Pushing up the sweater’s itchy sleeves over your elbows, you logged onto your computer to read over your boss’s schedule. From there, you’d be in charge of creating your own schedule, which primarily consisted of doing simple errands your boss wouldn't have time to do. You schedule her meetings, her breaks, and everything in between. You sometimes even have to schedule her personal time with her own family. It mainly consisted of whether or not she’d have time to attend her son’s extracurricular activities—she never did.

Today’s schedule was manageable. There were only a few things you needed to get done before having to pick up lunch at 12:30. The first task on your list to complete was replying to the hundreds of emails that were redirected to you. The emails you received consisted of many topics. They were mostly sponsorships, potential clients, business offers and sometimes even job applications. It was by far the most time consuming and boring task of each day.

Without realizing, a couple of hours had passed and you were still replying to emails and elite invitations. By the time you finished, it was only 8:50am and you already wanted to go home. As you were logging off your email your mind wandered, thinking about what you’d later do for dinner. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the loud sound of your desk phone ringing. Snapping out of your daze, you picked it up, expecting it to be a client or another assistant confirming meeting dates.

“Hello? Ms. Willem’s assistant speaking,” you answered, waiting to hear from the other side.

The line remained silent for a moment while a pair of voices spoke in the background. You waited a little longer before one of the voices came on, “Ah yes, we have a Mr. Holland here to see you. . . he said something about picking up fabric samples for his boss?”

As soon as you heard the words come from the other line your heart stopped. You had completely forgotten to pick up the swatches Ms. Willem had reminded you about earlier in the morning. Cursing under your breath, you lifted up from your chair still on the line with the front desk.

“Yes! I will come down to get him,” you rushed, throwing the phone back on its platform and heading towards the elevators. Thank God fabric was only two floors down.

Arriving on the fabric floor felt like a weight was being lifted from your shoulders. You walked to their front desk and was instantly met by someone in the department. You offered him a polite smile before telling him why you were there.

“Ms. Willem requested some samples. . .” you trailed, hoping he’d catch on to what you needed.

A puzzling look crossed his face as he bent down to open a drawer and search for the order. Shaking his head, he looked back up to you.

“I don’t have the order made, but if you give me an hour or so to collect and cut the fabrics, It will be done.”

Great.

“Oh, no uhm, I need them now,” you replied, in the kindest way you could, not wanting to sound rude.

He shook his head and let out a sarcastic laugh, “One hour,” he stated, turning to collect the materials he needed.

With a timid nod and barely audible ‘thanks’, you made your way back down the hallway and to the elevators that would take you to the main floor.

Just as you rounded the corner from the elevators, you noticed a man patiently sitting in one of the lobby’s artistic yet obscure chairs. He was leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, scrolling through his cell phone. You made eye contact with the woman at the front desk as she pointed at the same man, confirming that it was him who needed to pick up the samples. Straightening your posture, you cautiously walked over to him. The sound of your shoes softly hitting the tile floor made him glance up from his phone and directly at you. You almost stopped in your tracks as your eyes met a pair of unforgettable soft brown ones—the same soft brown eyes you met this morning. Jesus fucking Christ. Of all people it had to be the person you had stolen a coffee from. Instantly recognizing you, his neutral expression contorted into a more stern one. He got to his feet and looked you dead in the eyes, silently taking note that your sweater was different.

“You owe me a coffee— “ he accused before you interjected.

“And you owe me a sweater,” you barked back.

In all honesty, the man owed you nothing. What had happened this morning was a complete accident, but you wouldn't dare let him know that—not if he was going to act this way.

“Looks like we’re even,” he stated, his accent smooth, almost calming when he spoke. He ran his fingers through his curly brown hair, shaking his head unbelievingly.

“We’re not even, you almost cost me my job!” you whisper yelled, not wanting to make a scene in the busy lobby.

The man scoffed, “And you almost cost me my sanity! Do you know how important coffee is to me?” he exaggerated, matching your whispered pitch.

“Who orders plain black coffee anyway?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

Were you really arguing with a complete stranger? It seemed to be almost as unbelievable as your entire morning so far.

“My boss,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

With that, you crossed your arms over your chest, “The samples aren't done yet so if you could come back later that would be great.”

He mimicked your new stance and shrugged, “I’m not leaving without those samples—trust me, love, I’ve got time.”

The way he said ‘love’ made your stomach do backflips in the worst kind of way. There was absolutely no doubt that the man was attractive. It was his personality that seemed to be the exact opposite.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for the next sixty minutes, and I have errands to run,” you retorted, hoping he’d just give up and come back when the samples were ready.

There was no sign of resistance in his expression, “Fine, I guess I am.”

“I’m Tom by the way,” he introduced, not even offering you a proper hand to shake.

What a gentleman.

“Y/N,” you bitterly spoke, biting the inside of your cheek out of habit and partial nervousness.

You then gestured for him to follow you as you began to make your way back towards the elevators.

This was going to be one long hour.

tags: @softboyhollands

(if you wish to be tagged in this series or would like to request something, please feel free to message me here!)

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himluv · 6 years

Text

Blogland!

I can’t believe it, but May has come and gone. Hello June! This morning, as I stepped into my office my bare toes found rays of sunshine that were so warm I smiled. That’s a simple joy, a promise of summer and the warmth to come over the next couple months, and I am here for it!

Now then, what the heck happened in May?

May Goals

Write 500 words/day for The Steel Armada

Write 2 chapters for Sanctuary

Continue short story submissions

Keep reading

How’d I do?

Write 500 words/day for The Steel Armada

YES!!!!! I wrote a total of 15,758 words for The Steel Armada this month. That’s just over 500 words a day. Now, I didn’t actually sit down every day, but I did write more this month than I have any other month this year.

Write 2 chapters for Sanctuary

Nope. I finished chapter 3 and started chapter 4, but that was it. Just under 1,000 words total for the month on this project.

Continue short story submissions

Yeppers. Lifelike is still out (day 41!), and I just received another rejection on The Cost of Rain this morning. Don’t worry, I just turned around and sent it out to another magazine. No tears over here!

Keep reading

Slowly but surely. According to Goodreads, I read four titles this month. Not great, but I’ll take it.

Total May Word Count: 18,545

I kept May’s goals straightforward because I wasn’t confident in my ability to meet my word count goals. But, I did well! I’m really proud of myself.

During this month I wrote a ton, outlined some chapters, and had a heck of a time corralling ideas into something cohesive. This rewrite is a wild ride, and for now I’m following wherever the characters lead me. I think I’m starting to see how it all gels together, but I won’t know for sure until I get there. Scary stuff, but fun too.

Oh, Sanctuary, I’m so sorry I didn’t get more work done on you. I may have to admit that this project is going to take longer than I initially planned. As long as I finish it this year, that’s fine, but a part of me was really hoping to knock this one out quick.

I did write a couple tumblr drabbles this month, which padded my word count a bit, but they were good fun and had good responses from readers, so yay!

Short story submissions are trucking along. I have a couple thoughts for blog posts about this process so far, so that will probably go up sometime in June.

Reading has ground to a bit of a standstill as I’m caught in a battle of wills with The Master Magician. I’m having a really tough go of it, but I only have 70 pages left. I’m going to make an effort today and tomorrow to just get it over with.

Honorable Mentions?

I’m wracking my brain to think if there were any extra-curricular activities this month. I’ve been table top gaming with my husband and our good friend Ben. One such game saw me acting as the “Game Master” for the very first time. I was nervous, but I had a blast, and I’m definitely considering running a game as a nice storytelling alternative when I need a break from blank pages and condemning cursors.

The blog had its best month EVER this month! Here, have some stats!

Posted 11 blog posts; 4 Weekly Goals Summaries, 3 Book Reviews, 2 Editing Check-Ins, 1 Monthly Recap, and 1 personal post about my laptop.

525 views, with 406 visitors!

Links were clicked 14 times!

7 comments were left!

8 new followers!

This blog is a tiny thing, a determined little tank engine of a site that keeps chugging along despite its relatively low viewership and interaction. There are plenty of writing blogs that have thousands of followers and a number of views that would make my head spin. But that isn’t this blog. And that’s fine. I initially created this site as a place to hold myself accountable and to share my writing experiences. This year, I’m finally doing that. And book reviews, random thoughts, and opinions on fandom and fanfiction.

This consistency in posts is proving itself in the blog’s stats this year. Expect a post about it around the end of June, a sort of six month update.

Madhu and I have been going on biweekly Walk ‘n’ Talks. She’s a morning person, so we usually hit a local park around 9/9:30, before the masses, and march about talking about our books. We hash out any foggy areas in one another’s feedback and I tend to do a lot of brainstorming/thinking out loud when I’m with her. Plus, I need motivation to do more activity out of doors. I’ve been a bit of a hermit this month.

Which brings us to June.

June’s To-Dos

Write 500 words/day on The Steel Armada

Write chapters 4 and 5 of Sanctuary

Continue short story submissions

Keep reading!

Straightforward worked last month, why change it? I am upping my workload on Sanctuary, mainly because I don’t want to sit on this project forever. I’d really like to have both The Steel Armada and Sanctuary done by November so I can work on something new for NaNoWriMo this year.

Short story submissions will continue until the stories find homes. It sort of feels like cheating making it a goal for the month, but I suspect that, as the rejections pile up, it will be harder and harder to convince myself to carry on. So, I keep it on the board. That way I’ll be reminded and determined to keep submitting.

And the reading. We all know by now that writing and reading go hand in hand. What’s the phrase? Can’t stop, won’t stop! Also, a quick shout out to the lovely folks that left series recommendations on my review for Skin Game. I’ve got the first Vampire Files audiobook on hold, as well as the first book in the Peter Grant series. I appreciate you both, and can’t wait to try these stories out!

As for non-writing/reading plans in June… I got pretty much nothing. Which is wonderful. We’re supposed to start playing Gloomhaven this month, which I can’t wait for. I’m trying to keep myself spoiler-free for this game, but what little I’ve heard about it sounds very, very exciting.

Um… other than that, yard work, a couple of nebulous hiking plans, and catching the Farmer’s market on Saturdays. That’s all I got, but it’s wonderful.

Happy June, everyone.

The Recap – May 2018 Blogland! I can't believe it, but May has come and gone. Hello June! This morning, as I stepped into my office my bare toes found rays of sunshine that were so warm I smiled.

#Blogging #Book Reviews #Books #Editing #goals #goodreads #Reading #Rewriting #Short Stories #stats #Submissions #word counts #Writing

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fidelishaereticus · 6 years

Text

OK so this isn’t gonna look like anything i’ve ever read before but uh here’s what I’m thinking of for how I want to tell Cardhouse and the Cage: The Shithow. It’s still very much in development so feel free to attempt an intervention before it’s too late

THE PLAN

- 1. Prologue A catchy scene from inside the Cardhouse, probably in prose, probably staring Jezebel, with an accompanying illustration doodle. You know, so the reader understands that this is gonna be a fun story about fucked up fairies and not like,,,,Some Bullshit forever. Also obvs sthg that’s going to be plot-relevant in the not-so-distant future of the narrative.

- 2. Meet Our Narrator (or: Some Bullshit) A handful of diary entries by HQ in the vein of La Nausée* (only a lot sillier). These should establish HQ as both endearing and wildly unreliable. Before long, HQ starts talking about fairies. She gives a brief overview of what a fairy is (what she’s “discovered” about their nature) before launching into a dissertation on the Star Program, following Alice as a case study. This section will be really short. I already have way too many HQ diary entries written but most of them can just be part of the expansion pack (i might even do some of them some of them as supplemental youtube videos tho because i think that’d be hilarious).

- 3. First Arc: Alice’s Story. HQ’s outline for her “dissertation” breaks Star-cultivation down into four or so phases, which form the major subsections of her oeuvre. At the beginning of each section we get a brief paragraph of intro-prose, as one would in a formal essay (naturally to be taken with a grain of salt). Instead of continuing as an essay, however, the prose gives way to a series of visuals in the style i’ve been posting lately (with the miniatures). Once the scene is set, the narrative might shift either into comic form or into prose-with-intermittent-illustration form. We could also get things like raw dialogue as IM-chats n shit, who knows, i’ll feel it out. In any case, it’s not clear whether the more visually-driven segments are HQ’s own creation, or rather a window we’re being provided into the story she’s found (that is, a more objective glimpse of the “raw data” she’s working from). HQ will sometimes break for analysis, or might even dissect a particular scene with circles and arrows and notes or whatever, but for the most part the comic/prose+visuals mode tells Alice’s story and should command the greater share of the reader’s attention. HQ fades into the background for a while and functions primarily as a remote framing device. - 4. Second Arc: lets kill this SOB alright alright alright As Alice’s story approaches it’s conclusion, we get some more personal diary entries from HQ interspersed amongst the narrative. Upon the conclusion of Alice’s story, HQ clearly becomes unhinged. She abandons her dissertation, and the framing device shifts dramatically: we’re not reading her study or examining past events anymore: we’re in the “present”. I could shift narration to another character (possibly CR or LV--who have access to some degree of removed & mysterious omniscience), or proceed with first-person HQ prose (ugh that would limit me tho, don’t wanna do that), or just move on to a more objective mode of storytelling, where the narrator isn’t actually a character in the story. I’m considering writing this segment of the story in present tense, to further set it apart from the first segment (which i will write in past tense). This arc is (probably?) shorter than the first arc? It should be very tight, continuous, and driven, in any case.

CONCERNS - will this make any fucking sense??? - i love my framing device but will it take too long to get to The Main Thing? - will i be able to fit everything i want into this framework????? - will i be able to draw this many things? They’ll be simple things and there will be a lot of words to help them along but like,,,,,,i draw so slow, and so bad. will i??? be able??? IS MY ART EVEN GOOD ENOUGH??? 8((( ON THE OTHER HAND - while i am not very motivated to write atm, i am motivated to draw. are my drawings great art? no, but they serve---and why not take advantage of that? Like, yes it takes me longer to draw than to write, and my writing is of a higher quality than my visual art, but all that is worth nothing if i can’t even bring myself to write (which often i can’t). Drawing one panel a day will be so much faster than my current average of like two sentences per month. Also, doodling my characters makes me want to write about them more? so idk MAYBE THIS COULD WORK,, DESPITE SOUNDING ABSOLUTELY INSANE -----

*It’s like La Nausée in that it is a [failed] historian’s personal investigation into a trippy depressive episode ~the intrinsic horror of conscious existence~. As in Nausea, something goes uncomfortably odd in the way that our narrator is perceiving the world; everything seems off suddenly, and in a very bad way. Our narrator looks a little too deeply into the oddness, decides this is a Cosmic Issue, and proceeds to make it weird. It’s better than unlike Nausea in that the narrator is a cooler character is a mercurial shitposter who refuses to give specifics about spacetime. She also believes that she can get to the bottom of the oddness by studying fairies while repeatedly asserting that they’re not real and she doesn’t believe in them, and that naturally makes everything more fun.

#Cardhouse and the Cage #writing

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browndragon · 3 years

Video

Liquid Tiles and State Machines

Hello again! I got stuck in a rabbit hole, but I had fun.

One of the things I built is strictly less fun than the other, so I'll lead with it even though it's not what you wanted. The other is the pretty video above.

State Machines

TL;DR: See https://www.npmjs.com/package/@browndragon/sm .

I got annoyed that the big state machines in javascript were too verbose for what I wanted, so I wrote my own. I think I've already written this post, but this time it's even better.

Each "state" (inconsistently called a node) is a function that returns another node. You load some initial node up in a state machine (here called Cursor). The Cursor invokes its current node whenever you call next (and whatever it returns is the next node). However! It's invoked in the context of the Cursor itself, so you get some interesting bells and whistles automatically: this.here is the current node, for instance -- normally it's hard to get access to that in javascript, but not so here. Since they're each function objects, they're less prone to object equality stupidity of certain sorts, and more prone to it of other sorts. There is no method to predeclare the set of states that exist, so your states can create states (by returning inner functions for instance). These are all features I thought I'd need ;).

You can write nodes that assume they're useful for their side effects, or nodes that assume you'll examine the state machine's here. Cursors implement the iterable & iterator interfaces, so you can use them in loops and such also.

However, for more power you need the full Machine (which extends Cursor). This does things like track state for every node (which is why the nodes are not called states...), with advanced features like history, traps (so that if a node returns undefined it can be rebound to actually go to handleUndefined()), and similar. This makes them O(n) in the number of nodes (and indeed, O(n) in the number of calls to next), but sometimes that's the featureset you need!

Give it a try. Or don't!

Liquid Tiles

TL;DR: The demo above, but the code isn't published anywhere [yet].

I kept playing with dough connected by springs, but I think I'd need to do tile deformation or shader tricks to make the dough look good. As written, the arbitrary offsets allowed glue tiles to shift, leaving gaps. Ensuring coverage would require stretching the tiles or having additional backing color. Or: a change in scheme.

Dough is just a really thick liquid, right? (Over a long enough timescale, aren't all solids?) So how would I model a liquid? I might do it with freely chosen blocks connected by links (the current dough system), but that would likely be too chaotic. Instead, I'd probably split the liquid up into regular domains and analyze each domain. So I did that! Liquid tiles are the result, a system similar-to but different-from phaser Tilemaps, but providing a similar grid-based interface to the world.

First, the data structure

I'm continuously at a loss for high quality datastructures, so instead I write my own low-quality ones. I needed a store of tile information -- unindexed integer 2-tuple keys, arbitrary1 values. Easy enough; I wrote a dense one which uses an allocated array of fixed size (so that array[y*width+x] is the value for (x,y)) and a sparse one which uses fully arbitrary (x,y) pairs and stores points under their stringification. As I write this, I realize that these data structures are not so very different in javascript, where arrays can arbitrarily allocate keys, but what's done is done.

I called the keys in this datastructure x,y tuples, but that's not entirely true: they're really u,v tuples; I wrote a little tilemath class to hold the geometry for mapping between an XY space (like phaser) into the UV space of the tiles (like the tilemap indices) and vice-versa. I am pretty sure it still has some ugly edge effects (tiles do nothing to fix the default anchor(0.5, 0.5), potentially favoring the top/left sides! etc), but it's functional by visual test. The naming scheme (xy space vs uv space) provides very sensible method names -- u(x) is pretty unambiguous. There's no obvious uv analogue to width and height, so I settled for uCount and vCount, which is what it is.

Second, a dip in the Pool

Obviously, we need a Pool of tiles (where tiles are just managed instances of Image, Sprite, or subclasses). A Pool is obviously a Group2, providing mechanisms to manipulate its managed contents -- putTileAt and removeTileAt for instance. But then the next question: what are you putting in these tiles; how are you passing the grid-based information which you need to pass to them into them? I say that Tilemap got this right, you're passing them a tileId (whatever your arbitrary first parameter to putTileAt is); I say that Tilemap got this wrong in that it knew that tileIds were lookups into arrays which were preregistered along with spritesheet geometry etc.

Everything else: mappings and shadows

Anyway: I created Conformers to address the problem of how to map tileId onto actual asset. Conformers are functions which take a tile entry (a gameObject, uv coordinates, tileId, maybe other stuff) and makes the game object conform with the other parameters. A simple one can setFrame(someTexture, someFrame) by just looking the tileId up in a big array; a more complex one might play(someAnimation) or do wangId calculations or whatever. This is also a great place to put state transition logic, since you can detect whether this conformation is a change from a previous state, or a put for a state that the tile was already in.

Okay! Now we're ready: since I know I want this to follow dough blobs around, and the doughblobs are acted upon by the rest of the physics system, I needed some ability to have a sprite "cast" an effect into the dough tile system. I called this a ShadowPool (which extends Pool extends AutoGroup extends Group). Every element of the shadow pool's WatchGroup casts a shadow into the pool made of tileIds; each tile's tileId the bitwise or of its place within the element's boundary (so for instance the upper left corner of an element's boundary is 0b0010, the bit for the lower right corner set.) That, at long last, is what the video above is showing, with fancy transition effects.

Next?

The animation of specific dough elements remains tricky; doughjiggle is still going to look bad under this new quantized regime, even as the interior of the dough looks better. But now I can emulate slugs, and spilled paint, and footprints, and other mass nouns without feeling like I've got to pay the cost of a full tilemap. Indeed, since tilemap layers render in one pass, using a pool even for walls might let me do the fabled "figure in front of bush & behind tree" 3/4 view I've been after this whole time. Certainly the ability to "layer" collisions by material type is very valuable to me, and missing from the current tilemap classes.

I'm now imagining a hybrid scheme: dough is drawn as nodules (free moving spheres of dough with weakly drawn borders) on top of a ShadowPool which draws the base of the nodule, thus the outline of the dough group (wang tiles with strongly drawn borders). Dough regions which quiesce could remove the nodule and mark the tiles from the shadow pool as "permanent", so that they can take over the nodule's mass. Animating the movement of the base can add more detail to this, since it can theoretically hide the quantization by masking portions of the tile and sliding it out in the (known!) direction of change. For instance, if the tile had been undefined and now has the bottom right set, it is clearly sliding in from the bottom right. This will cause slightly strange initial effects (of course), but edge effects are to be expected.

Fast moving dough would be represented as nodules (large borders). Slow speed dough would be thin-border nodules on top of a ShadowPool, sticking-and-unsticking the dough and an unstable equilibrium. Stopped dough would be pure ShadowPool entries. Dough spring would be provided via interaction with the shadowpool.

I mean, arbitrary at first. Obviously they're gonna be tiles. ↩︎

As an implementation note, each Pool is actually a singleton group; that's just more convenient to my way of thinking about these things. ↩︎

#gamedev #phaser

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winsister91 · 7 years

Text

This Means War

Summary: Reader and Dean have a bet on who can pick up the most people at the bar and things get competitive.

Characters: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2172

Warning: Language, fluff, implied smut

A/N: Flirt war! Just let your imagination run wild at the end of this I guess, I fear my smut gets repetitive :/ Been nursing a pulled wisdom tooth for the last couple of days so apologies if it's well... crappy. I’m not 100% but writing makes the pain lessen somewhat :)

My Masterlist!

~ Dean and forever tags are open! ~

Tag list originally from @spnfanficpond I deleted a bunch that didn’t seem to be working, and now some of these aren’t working either? I don’t understand Tumblr tags at all. Feel free to lemme know if you’d like to be added/removed.

“The next time Sam says 'ooh it's a simple ghost haunting, you guys can handle it', remind me to hit him in the face with a brick,” You groan throwing yourself onto one of the motel beds.

“Noted,” Dean grunts as he copies you. You're both covered head to toe in black goopy ectoplasm and cut up to hell. It wasn't as simple as Sam thought but...well you had both handled it.

“Aw man, now it's all over the sheets,” you grimace as you sit up and see a perfect black outline from where you've been laid, “Perfect.”

“Well, I'm getting a shower,” Dean announces getting to his feet, “Then we're hitting the bar.”

“Ugh does it have to be we?” you scoff, “Do I really have to sit and watch you hit on skanks all night?”

“They're not all skanks,” Dean laughs, “And yes it is we. I need a wing-woman.”

You roll your eyes and drop back onto the bed.

“Why don't you give it a go?” he asks with a wink.

“Excuse me?” you respond confused, heart skipping a beat at thought of him meaning what you think he might be.

“Let your hair down! Have some fun for once!” Dean shouts, “Relax, get drunk, hit on some guys! You're hot so I'm sure you'd be able to get a sweetheart for the night!”

“Dean Winchester,” you raise a threatening eyebrow, trying to cover your heart sinking because he wasn't on the same wavelength as you, “If I want to grab myself a honey, I do it on my own terms.”

“Spontaneity is a fine thing,” he grins.

“If we both pick someone up, we can't exactly fetch them back here can we?” you argue, “Beds are ruined and we're sharing a room for crying out loud!”

“Who says we got to fetch them here?” he shrugs, “Go back to their place.”

“Valid point...” you mumble, “Fine whatever. Be quick with that shower then, and don't moan at me when I'm getting ready. It takes time to make this face beautiful.”

“I doubt that,” he smiles cheekily and shuts the bathroom door behind him.

You both enter the bar and you feel smoking. Just a simple tight black tee paired with skinny jeans and boots, but your eyeliner is so on point and hair stylishly tousled. You couldn't remember the last time you'd put makeup on and gone out, what with all the hunts lately, but doing so tonight had given you a new found confidence. Or maybe it was the slight jaw drop from Dean when he saw you that had given you the boost. Nonetheless, you felt pretty damn good.

You stride to the bar, already noting a few eyes drift your way and sit yourself down on a barstool at the end. You order yourself some cheap cocktail, giving the cute bartender a seductive smile.

“Okay,” Dean sips on a beer next to you and scans the room, “Who are you introducing me to first?”

“Hold on there Casanova,” you laugh, “If I'm on my own prowl tonight, I can't be your wing-woman at the same time.”

“You're gonna leave me to fend for myself?” Dean looks slightly hurt, “Fine. I can handle myself. Don't you wanna be going out there prowling?”

“No need,” You give a cocky smirk, “All I gotta do is sit here, and they'll come to me baby.”

“Yeah sure okay,” Dean laughs, “Let's see how that goes for ya. I betcha I can pull at least three chicks by the time someone mans up and comes over to you.”

“How much?” you ask, still smirking.

“What?”

“How much do you wanna bet?”

“Ugh...I dunno, ten bucks?”

“C'mon more interesting than money! I say...whoever gets the most people's numbers tonight doesn't have to drive with a hangover tomorrow.”

Dean looks you up and down with an expression of shock, “I uh...wasn't expecting you to be so laid back and candid about trying to pick people up.”

“Well you were right,” you bite your lip as the bartender catches your eye again, “Maybe I should let my hair down and have some fun for once.”

Dean shoots the bartender a glare, before rolling his shoulders and heading out into the 'playing field'. You narrow your eyes whilst you observe him head up to one of his typical candidates. She may as well have just come out in her underwear there was so much skin on show, and her heels are so high they were like stilts. Each to their own you guess. You feel that awfully familiar pit form in your stomach as he leans in to whisper some sweet nothings. You get this feeling whenever you see him hitting on someone but you don't allow yourself to acknowledge it. Tonight is your time to shine, and you will not lose this bet. A loud smacking sound comes from Dean's direction, from the slap he just received from stilts girl. You can't help yourself but burst into laughter, promptly stopping when he shoots a warning glare in your direction.

“Another?” the bartender asks as you finish your cocktail.

“Hmm it was a little sweet for me, what would you recommend?” You lean on the bar with a lone finger playing with your hair.

“I'm a rum and coke guy myself,” he answers, taking your empty glass.

“Rum and coke it is then,” you smile, biting your lip as you flutter your eyes at him. He smiles back as he fetches you your drink.

“So uh...what time do you get off?” you ask, deciding to just dive straight in. You were adamant not to drive in the morning.

The guy laughs, “You're straight to the point!”

“Have to be when presented with fine specimens like yourself,” you giggle, noticing Dean re-approaching for a new beer, “C'mon, humour me.”

“Well... my husband picks me up at about eleven,” the bartender answers with a look of sympathy.

“Oh...” your face drops and you feel your cheeks turn hot from blushing.

“Sorry to disappoint hun,” the bartender pats you on the head like a child and turns to tend to his other patrons.

“Haha!” Dean laughs when the guy is out of earshot and elbows you, “So that's one to me and nil to you?”

“What?” you quickly spin around to face the Winchester and he presents a napkin with some number scrawled on it in lipstick, “Aw, crap.”

Sometime later you’re at a draw with three all. Your new tactic of hanging around the pool table with a group of guys and joining in their own little tournament was also working out marvellously. Dean had taken your spot at the bar, introducing himself to ladies innocently buying a drink and giving them his full on charm offence. Despite the attention from the pool table hunks, your eyes consistently drifted in Dean's direction. You could have sworn you caught his eyes on you a number of times. That pit in your guts refuses to shift.

On your way back from a bathroom trip, you spot Dean talking to your hunks.

“I mean, gold digger. Completely. My friend woke up and she was gone as well as his phone and wallet,” you catch him saying to them.

“Wait, what!?” you squeal as your new friends make a hasty retreat, “Dean!?”

“What?” he laughs, “The betting rules never stipulated interference.”

“You son of a-” you start before taking a breath to compose yourself, “Fine. This means war.”

Round 1

You skulk up to the blonde Dean has been chatting up just as he goes to the bar to grab them both a drink. “Hey,” you whisper and the girl turns to you puzzled, “My sister hooked up with that guy a week or so ago. Crabs.”

Dean approaches while you dance with a baby-faced cutie. “Again?” he says, pulling out his fake FBI ID, “I'll let you off this night Miss Spankalot, but I catch you in here looking for customers again, I'll have to take you in.”

Round 2

You run up and slap Dean amongst a group of girls on their hen night. “You bastard!” You cry over dramatically, “You're other wife just called to tell you she's pregnant! With triplets!”

“She's loopy that one,” Dean mumbles to your next victim, “I heard she pokes holes in condoms and goes crazy screaming you'll be the perfect happy family.”

Round 3

Dean wanders over to the guy eyeing you up. You watch as he points at you and lip read him saying, “Has a penis.”

You make eye contact over Dean's shoulder to the brunette he's charming. You lean forward, nodding your head towards Dean and announcing, “Micro-penis.”

“Okay okay enough,” Dean sulks sat at a table with you while you chuckle, “Screw the bet.”

“You really don't like the taste of your own medicine do you?” you giggle. It's getting late and the bar is slowly emptying, “It's a draw anyway so no one wins. I'll get us another drink before this place shuts.”

You head on over, noticing the old blush inducing bartender had left and swapped for an upgrade. He eyes you up and down with a sly smirk as you approach.

“What can I get you hot stuff?” he asks with a lick of his upper lip.

“One beer and hmm...I'm not sure what I want...” you pout slightly, tilting your head at the pile of cute stood before you.

“How about a....sex on the beach?” he suggests with a wink.

You continue chatting with him, causing other customers to complain at their lack of service. You feel yourself flirting but again your eyes frequently drift back to the Winchester. He's still sat at the table, watching the bartender with narrowed eyes, he hadn't spoken to any other girls since you left him there. You daydream, absorbing those olive green orbs of his you loved so much. The pouting lips just begging to be kissed. How warm and cosy it must be snuggling up with those strong arms wrapped around you.

“You listening sugar?” you hear the gruff bartender's voice interrupt your Dean fantasy.

“Oh!” you shuffle in your seat awkwardly, “Sorry I uh...I think I should go.”

You go to move but a calloused hand sticks your arm to the bar.

“But we're just getting started here,” he says with a sly smile.

“You really don't wanna do that,” you snap into hunter mode and glare him down.

“Yeah you really don't,” came Dean's voice, now stood next to you.

The bartender's eyes dot between the two of you for a moment. He sighs and lifts his hand off you.

“Whatever,” he shrugs and walks away.

In a second you feel your other arm being tugged. Dean pulls you towards the exit and you both leave. He lets go of you outside the door and starts pacing back and forth.

“Dean what the hell?” you raise your arms and look at him bewildered.

“Y/N...” he starts, still pacing and then just sighs.

“Dean what's wrong?” you grab his arm to stop him pacing.

He looks at you in the eyes, a slight frown on his face.

“Screw it,” he mumbles, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your heart leaps up to your throat and feels like it's going at a thousand beats a second. You can feel your cheeks burning and your hands slightly clench in shock. His lips are better than you imagined, soft and full and there's a slight beer taste which you find oddly pleasurable.

He lets you go and you gasp, “D-Dean...”

“I'm sorry I just... tonight was a stupid idea,” he stumbles on his words, “Seeing you flirt with all those guys drove me fucking crazy.”

“Um...” you laugh, holding your chest like it'll help your heart slow down, “That was your idea?”

“Yeah, a stupid one like I said,” he sighs. His hands are still around your waist and you can feel him pulling you close again, “I just thought you'd want someone better than me.”

“Now that's a stupid idea,” you laugh, now pulling him back and starting a kiss on your own terms.

You wrap an arm around his neck and one through his hair, pulling it lightly. He clenches your ass and moans into your mouth, sending tingles through you.

Another release and your foreheads are touching. You catch him smiling and it makes you do the same.

“Motel?” you wink.

“Hell yes,” Dean agrees, “I just hope they'll give us some new sheets at reception first.”

Tags! @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @bkwrm523 @salvachester @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @revwinchester @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @4401Inc @sis-tafics @mrswhozeewhatsis @arcturuz

#supernatural #fanfiction #spnfanfic #dean x reader #dean fluff #implied smut

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