#i was playing animal crossing and i thought to myself how would they play

[mariasversion]

will and hannibal playing animal crossing (new leaf)

will has a black 3DS and hannibal has a pink one (will told him it was the last one even though it wasn’t because he thought it was funny to watch big scary hannibal playing a pink 3DS and complaining about “rude” villagers)

hannibal bought them matching carrying cases (he’s extra like that) and always reminds will to use them because he forgets and leaves his 3DS wherever

they first tried to share a town but it didn’t work (they couldn’t agree on anything and kept getting irritated with one another)

hannibal town’s name is probably an obscure reference no one in their right mind would get

will town’s name is probably something silly (he doesn’t really care about the town’s name) or a reference to hannibal’s obscure reference

hannibal town’s flag is something related to the town’s obscure name, will town’s flag is a fish he drew

hannibal cut down all the trees the first chance he got and then planted them all again in an “organised and civilised” way (he also organised all the flowers)

will just plants whatever wherever, he doesn’t really care if the trees and flowers are all over the place

hannibal spends most of the time “improving” his town, doing public work projects and setting town ordinances (he says the only respectful character in the whole game is isabelle because she helps him improve the town)

will spends most of the time fishing and catching bugs, he literally could not care less about how many benches there are in his town

hannibal’s house has like four floors and all the rooms are super big, all his furniture is elegant and stylish (he also buys records all the time, every room in his house has a record player that’s constantly playing something)

will’s house has like two rooms, it’s barely furnished and full of fish in their little tanks (will thinks tom nook looks sketchy and refuses to go to nook’s home)

when they visit each other’s towns will tries to steal all of hannibal’s fruit and hannibal tries to organise the whole of will’s town (they chase each other with the axe or shovel while the other tries to do this)

#i was playing animal crossing and i thought to myself how would they play #and then this happened #this might be the shittiest of my shitposts #but it was fun #animal crossing #animal crossing new leaf #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #murder husbands

[lunarharp]

lazy scribbling of my baldur's gate 3 characters

#*emerges from 430 HOURS of life-changing playtime blearily like a lost and confused kitten* #i lost my interest in drawing bc everything is too sad & horrible right now. it was a luxury and privilege to lose myself in this instead #what follows will be my personal and trivial emotions about that #i'll do better proper drawings later. for me. they are both so very dear to me... deeply dear...unforgettable journeys of fate #truly have played like one possessed for the past few weeks. you have no idea. what do i do now. what do i do. #their personalities are so vivid to me though they mostly made the same choices. both intersex and they/them - canonically <3 #i missed out on FOUR PARTY MEMBERS in my first playthrough due to not understanding anything whatsoever. #gloaming ended up with wyll and pavane romanced karlach and astarion. and ended up with the one i did NOT plan on. this wasnt the plan #one of the most fulfilling romance paths i've ever..i cant say more..it all got too immersive and now i have to just.. MOVE ON ?????????? #live in THIS world where i can't gut imperialism personally and emerge alive from that? #without Long Resting? without my character requesting a kiss from their beloved after a tough day ?? #without preparing my little spells? without channelling divinity from my death god to keep us all alive? #without dyeing my man's clothes fancy colours for him? without him Approving whenever i lie and double-cross our enemies #without sharing clothes with my ex? without choosing to eat the heavy food first so that the weight is easier on her Carrying Capacity? #without orchestrating ways for all of my friends to kill the abusers that ruined their lives for a decade or even 200 years? #without experiencing degrading horrors on a daily basis but in a cathartic way where we always make it back to our rooms at the inn #WITHOUT SPEAK WITH ANIMALS??????????? #at least there's music. just like with persona 5 that will always be with me. always #like how p5 melodies take me back to those feelings. those rich and personal feelings.... BUT THIS WAS A WAY MORE NUTS EXPERIENCE #i thought i would hate it. i did at times. thought it would desensitise me to various things. it did. but there was so much more..it was... #Well anyway *continues my life* imagine if dnd was real..something to think about

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #writing #story #funny story

[dexlexia]

dracule - mihawk x reader

pairing: dracule mihawk x reader rating: 18+ summary: Mihawk was a warlord of the sea. He was a feared swordsman, he crossed oceans and slayed anyone who got in his way. Mihawk was a strong man, the kind of man you didn't want to face alone in a fight and to be honest even having a crew by your side wouldn't help either. Fear would be an emotion you'd feel if you were faced with him. 

But you simply knew him as - ”Dracule!“  tags: fluff, smut, injured!reader, anime canon, sweet & cute, gentle sex, multiple positions

Mihawk was a warlord of the sea. He was a feared swordsman, he crossed oceans and slayed anyone who got in his way. Mihawk was a strong man, the kind of man you didn't want to face alone in a fight and to be honest even having a crew by your side wouldn't help either. Fear would be an emotion you'd feel if you were faced with him. 

But you simply knew him as - ”Dracule!“ 

  ”Yes, my dear.“ He said as he came to the doorframe of the bedroom you both shared. In the centre of the bed lay your sick form. In all fairness you were for the most part fine, but the big bruise on your face said otherwise. 

It looked worse than it felt, but Mihawk was worried. The greatest swordsman was shaken by the fact that the person he loved had a bruise. He came closer and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to the side of your face that wasn't bruised. 

  ”It's cold.“ You pouted. 

He leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips, ”I will get you another blanket then.“ He knew you were playing it up a little, but the worrying guilt in his stomach made it hard for him to dismiss your whining. 

He got up and went to the chest near the far wall of the bedroom that was stuffed with extra blankets and pillows. He grabbed a nice quilt that he got in the northern islands. They could keep anyone warm.

  ”Here you go.“ He said as he laid out the blanket across you. But before he could turn to leave the room, you reached out and grabbed him on the arm.

  ”Stay?” You asked. 

He exhaled, “Perona and Zoro will be wondering why dinner hasn't been made yet.“ He turned to look at you, gold eyes scanned your body that was neatly tucked under three layers of blankets. 

  ”Well the strays can fend for themselves. I want my man.” You softly smiled at your own comment. Mihawk returned the smile before he got into bed with you. He was quick to make sure no heat escaped from under the blankets as he pulled you into his arms.

  “I guess so.” He replied as he caned his neck down to kiss your on the head. He was so soft in private. So caring and warm, while most thought he was a vampire you saw the heart beneath it all. To be a warlord meant to be stoic and unemotional, but behind closed doors Mihawk was a kind lover. 

He pulled away and lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, “How is your bruise?”

  “Better. Doesn't ache.” You replied. You were a little emabressed by how you got such a big bruise. It looked like someone took a lead pipe to your face. 

  “You could've broken something. Next time you want to clean the weaponry, please get myself or one of our strays to help. I'm pretty sure Roronoa would be happy to find *something* else to do with his time rather than lift weights and drink all my liquor.“

You blushed, ”I know, Dracule.“ You snuggled up closer to him and kissed his face. You felt content and even rubbed your legs together in the sheer happiness of being close to him. Your Dracule.

  ”I worry.“ He said, ”I know you are not a weak woman, but I brought you here to protect you. I don't want the things in our home posing a risk too.“ He pushed hair out of your face to keep it away from the healing bruise. 

  ”I'll always be okay, honey.“ You said as you tangled your legs with his and moved down to press your head against his clothed chest, ”Because you're here.“ 

  ”And I will be here until my last breath, my dear.” He leaned down to kiss you on the top of the head. He wrapped those arms tighter around you and held you close. You could hear his heartbeat and you pressed both hands against his chest. When you sighed constantly, he was able to do the same. 

There were not many things he held dear in this world but as he held you so close to him, he felt like everything worth fighting for was nestled in his arms. Despite being injured, you were as perfect as ever. A dream in his eyes. 

Eventually you moved further up the bed to look into his eyes. You reached out for him and placed a hand on his face. You rubbed your hand against his facial hair and you smiled at him. 

  ”My Dracule.“ You said, ”The bravest swordsman, the scary warlord. But I could never be afraid of you.“ You leaned in and kissed him on the lips. 

  ”And I will do everything in my power to never make you afraid of me. I care for you too deeply, my soul is tied with yours in this world and the next. I will fight in my dying breath to protect you.“ 

You felt the heat rise into your cheeks from his endearing words. He sounded like an old poet when he spoke, but the low rumble of his voice paired with the closeness to you made you feel more loved then with any other man. 

You kissed again, and he held onto you tighter. So close, so intimate that it left a swirl of warmth in your gut. When you pulled away from his lips you went to his ear and asked, ”I want to be closer, Dracule.“ 

  ”Then closer we shall be.” He replied as he started to unbutton his shirt. He watched you with careful eyes as you undressed as well. He observed every mark on your skin. He breathed deeply through his nose as he continued to get undressed. 

Soon you were both nude. Your hands explored his body, the expanse of muscle and the admiring every mark on his body. Even though the scars were old, you could see them faintly. You pressed another kiss against his lips and felt your heart flutter in your chest. It was a euphoric feeling, the ability to be so close to him. 

He was godsent. He placed a hand on your ass and gave it a firm squeeze as you two kissed. It got warmer under the covers as the two of you felt each other up. He groaned into the kiss when you softly touched his cock. 

He shuddered when you grasped onto it and gave a firm stroke. But he quickly deepened the kiss and continued to passionately make out with you. The heat in the room rose as he explored your body with his soft hands. 

Despite his use of a sword he always kept his hands so soft. But they were strong and his grip could be bruising. You moaned into the kiss as he grabbed your ass once more and massaged the cheek with his palm.

  “Does that feel good?" He asked, “Do you like that?”

 “I love it, Dracule.” You moaned into the kiss. When you pulled away you kicked the covers to the bottom of the bed and wrapped your leg around his waist as you continued to feverishly make out with you.

Mihawk loved when you liked this. A normal poised, in control woman succumbed to the deep desire of her lover. It was almost endearing how badly you wanted him. He knew your heart was racing. 

  “You look divine.” He said as he held onto the thigh that was at his waist and stroked the warm soft skin. He traced patterns into your skin while the two of you kissed. The soft sounds of your kissing filled the room. 

  “Dracule.” 

  “Mmm, yes.” 

His touch became more aggressive the more you made out. And soon he was moving you onto his lap with his cock pressed against your ass. His hands at your hips, he rubbed circles into your left hip with his thumb as you adjusted yourself onto his lap. 

  “You look divine too.” 

  “Thank you.” He said, he tensed up as you raised your hips and seated yourself onto his cock. He held onto your hips tightly as you got comfortable. He exhaled deeply but it got caught in his throat however when you started to move your hips.

  ”Like that?“ You asked.

  ”Yes, you are doing perfect.“ He replied as he moved his hips. He rolled them against you as you moved in return. His heat raced in his chest as he felt your tight heat around his cock. He tried to hold back his noises for the sake of the others in the castle but that plan was soon abandoned when the pleasure became insurmountable as you continued to move up and down his length.

  ”Ah!“ You moaned, ”Dracule.“ You placed both hands on his toned chest to keep yourself stable as you rode him. You moaned and moved your hips as you felt the pleasure well up in your gut. You loved having sex with Dracule, it was an intense feeling that you couldn't put words to. 

He looked at you with such tenderness, such commitment to his cause. The cause of loving you, to be a loyal man to you. You leaned down and kissed him once more as you rolled your hips. You were a tight fit around him, but he found the feeling quite amazing. 

Pleasure roamed through both of your bodies as you passionately made out. Like two halves of the same whole, a perfect fit for one another. You felt your heat hammer in your chest as you continued to move with Mihawk matching your pace. The kiss deepened as you moved. 

The pleasure was an immense feeling, the sounds of sex filled the room ad most likely bothering your other guests. But in that moment neither of you cared, you only wanted one another. You only wanted the rush of pleasure that came from being in bed with the warlord himself. 

  ”You are a gift.“ He said, ”The gift I want to unwrap over and over again and devour your bearings. I want to worship where you stand and be loyal till I am nothing more than a pile of bones.“

You smiled and pressed your forehead to his while you continued to move your hips, “Good thing, Dracule.” He said, “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “Excellent.“ He said as he kissed you once more. He groaned against your lips as he matched your pace. His cock was nudging against your sweet spot as you both felt the wash of pleasure over both of you.  ”A sight to behold.“ He added as he pressed his forehead against yours. His breathing was ragged. He could feel the sweat on his body as he held you against him. 

  ”Dracule.“ You said in a slightly higher voice as you felt the curl of orgasm in your gut. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

  "I am not going anywhere, dear.' He said, ”As you say, we are stuck together.“ He grabbed you by the hair and held your head back as he gazed into your eyes with devotion. 

  ”Please.“ You said.

  ”Always.“ He replied as he quickly moved you over so you were on your stomach with your ass in the air, facing him. He sank into you once more, the pleasure still swirled in his gut. He watched you grip the pillow as he started to fuck you. 

You moaned into the soft pillow under your head as he moved quickly against you. The slapping sound of sex was dominant in the room as he made quick work to make you orgasm. 

With another hard thrust, he finished inside of you but kept the pace of his thrusts until you came as well. Then slowly his pace ended and he pulled out. He grabbed you in his arms and laid in bed with you. Your bare bodies are exposed to the cooling bedroom air. 

  ”How was that?" He asked, “Does your face hurt?”

  “No, no, Dracule. Everything is perfect.' You sighed contently in his arms. You felt at peace, even in the care of the most feared swordsman. He may be Mihawk to most, but to you he will always be - “Dracule~”

#dexlexia writes #reader insert #anime x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk one piece #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #op mihawk #darcule mihawk #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece smut #oneshot

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Wereroomies werewolf!chan reaction to his girl in a rabbit costume? I know that man will go insane

this ask wormed its way into my brain and made me write a drabble in record time. sorry if anything's worded weirdly, i was literally possessed while i wrote this whole thing.

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series). | Word Count: ~1k. | Warnings: Chris’ POV · curvy/chubby reader · primal play (can it be considered primal play when one of the parties involved is an animal already?) · breeding · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control].

minors do not interact.

It was rare for Chris to take you to his house in the woods on your own. Typically, the entire pack would come for their monthly run, but every once in a while he needed to come check on the place to make sure everything was in order–the amount of times he’d woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with the sudden thought that he didn’t turn off the lights before leaving during their last trip were too many to count at this point.

This weekend, Chris decided to take you out on a little escapade, just the two of you in his big house. You both had been working nonstop the last couple of weeks, between that and pack duties you’d hardly had any time for yourselves as a couple, so he was more than needing his alone time with you, to disconnect from everything and everyone else.

So here he was, doing the final checks on the house to make sure everything was fine before he could finally join you wherever you were in the house to lounge around and snuggle and hopefully have some delightful sex later in the evening.

“Baby, have you seen the–the…”

Walking into the living room, and seeing you all of a sudden like that, sitting on the dining table of all places, was something Chris did not expect. His mind short-circuited immediately, and the fact that you had the nerve to gasp and act surprised as soon as you spotted him wasn’t making it any better.

“Oh, my… Seems like I’ve found myself in the wolf’s lair. What am I gonna do now…” You brought your hands to your cheeks, which only squished your breasts further together, all garnished with the fakest look of concern he’d ever seen on your face.

That bra was barely even a bra, it was just a couple of pieces of fabric tied around your neck by thin straps, it did absolutely nothing to keep your breasts contained. It was white, too, practically transparent. The bottoms weren’t much better, also a barely even there piece of fabric that did incredibly poorly at covering your plump centre. But the worst pieces of all were the white and pink suspender belt, with the matching stockings over your mouth-watering thighs, and the goddamned bunny ears on your head.

Something stirred deep inside of Chris, something just so incredibly dangerous, something he just knew was exactly what you wanted to awake with this entire set-up of yours.

Prey, prey, prey, prey, prey…

What kind of boyfriend would he be if he denied you of your fun? So of course he played along. 

“Aww, poor little bunny got lost?” Chris cooed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on the door frame, staring you up and down.

You bit your lip, nodding. “You’re not gonna do anything bad to me, right?”

Chris took a deep breath, and he got almost winded by the scent of your arousal lingering in the air. “Well… That depends, pretty bunny…”

“On?”

A smirk made its way onto his face, and Chris could already feel himself straining in his briefs. “On how fast you can run away from me”.

You bit your lip and whimpered, looking almost scared. 

There was a moment of you staring at him, and Chris staring at you… A moment of silence that fed the tension in the air. In an instant, you were getting off of that table and bolting out of the room, letting him see the fluffy tail attached to your bottoms, and he could feel the fine hairs on his nape stand on end.

Chase, chase, chase, chase, chase…

Chris immediately ripped his t-shirt off of his body and chased after you. He was suddenly feeling incredibly warm, and he could feel his instincts further clouding his reason as he looked at your form trying to get out of his reach.

He let you off easy for a few minutes, revelling in the deep breaths you took, in the way your heart was racing inside your chest, and in the smell of your scent taking a hold of every single one of his nerve-endings. Until he just couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to catch you, to show you your place and make you submit.

After a while of running and hiding around the house, Chris finally caught up to you on the upper floor, right after climbing the stairs–his shorts had been discarded at some point during the chase, he didn’t even notice when he’d removed them, and he, honestly, also didn’t care.

With a tight hold on your waist he pushed you against the nearest wall. He would’ve felt bad by hearing the whimper that came out of your mouth as soon as your back hit the wall, but, at this point, he knew your limits, he knew how to read your body language, he knew the exact word you would use if it all became too much for you, and, especially, he knew when you were putting on an act. 

With a hand cradling the back of your head, he tilted it to the side, making himself more room to shove his face in the crook of your neck, to prod at your pulse point with the tip of his nose and get a proper whiff of that scent of yours that made him delirious, especially now with how horny you smelt, with his senses enhanced by the chase.

“What now, bunny?” Chris mumbled. He licked a stripe up the expanse of your neck, relishing the taste of your skin under his tongue, and he felt you shiver with the motion.

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “What are you gonna do to me? I’m just a poor, innocent bunny that got lost…”

“Are you, now?” Chris brought his free hand to the ears on your head, feeling the soft fur between his fingers for a moment, only to finally move that hand to your side so he could drag it all the way from your ribs down to your hips, relishing the goosebumps that rose under his touch. “And what was a pretty bunny like you looking for so insistently you ended up lost in my lair?”

“A partner”, you replied simply, although your voice got a bit shaky when he started to toy with the string that tied your underwear in place. “I just…need to be bred so badly”.

Chris could’ve fainted with how fast blood rushed from his head to his crotch.

“Oh, sweet, sweet, bunny”, he dragged his teeth down the length of your neck, until he finally found a spot to suck the first of many love bites he was ready to leave on your skin. “I can give you exactly what you want… I’ll pump you so full, pretty. Just how you need”.

“You will?” You reached for his hips, and the warmth of your hands on his bare skin was further feeding that pool of desire in the pit of his stomach. “Is the big, alpha wolf going to put his pups inside me?”

God, he might’ve been the predator, but you certainly always had the upper hand, and Chris knew you were aware of it. You always knew what to say to get him to react, to get exactly what you wanted, and he was ready to fall for it every single time.

Chris leaned in closer, close enough he could feel your lips brush against his own when he spoke. “Only if you ask nicely”.

You moved your hands from his hips to his ass, squeezing generously. “Please… Please, I need your pups so bad. Please, breed me, alph–”

A squeal left your lips when Chris took a hold of your hips and turned you around all of a sudden. He just couldn’t take it anymore, not after all that had transpired since he spotted you on that table downstairs.

With a hand on your upper back, he pressed your chest further into the wall as you pushed your hips back towards him, giving him the delicious sight of your round bottom in that barely there piece of underwear with the fluffy tail, and the way your soft flesh dipped under the taut straps of your suspender belt that held the stockings on your legs almost made him dizzy.

Chris spat on his free hand and smeared the saliva all over his length. Pulling your underwear to the side, he got a perfect view of your soaked folds. Clearly, all the running around had been a good warm up for you, too, and he was almost trembling in anticipation.

In normal circumstances, he would’ve probably stretched you out first, even loosen you up with his mouth and his tongue. But these were no normal circumstances. He could barely think straight at this point, all he knew for sure was that he needed to be inside of you and give you the pounding of your life.

Breed, breed, breed, breed, breed…

You whined once he started to push his cock inside you. The feeling of your warm, wet, tight walls stretching over his length had him rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He might’ve worried he was hurting you, but he knew by now that when you reached back for his hip like you were doing now, almost like you were urging him to ram himself into you already, it meant you were doing just fine, so there wasn’t a single spark of worry in his hazy mind just yet.

As soon as he was fully sheathed within your warmth, he nuzzled your neck, holding the soft skin of your hips tightly in his hands. “Don’t worry, pretty bunny. I’ll give you what you need. All of it”.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

figured i’d tag anyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know !

@raspbinniecreme · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @straylightdream · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @violetpenguinkris · @leedunno · @peepeepoopooharrie · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @moonmooncr · @phobia0325 · @leebitsimpracha

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏ #ask #anon #wereroomies ask #wereroomies headcanons

[14thcommander]

TELL ME YOUR SECRETS || cw: SMUT, 18 PLUS ONLY! dirty talk, masturbation, hange is a perv and talks you through it, pwp (selfship coded!)

Hange has always been curious.

Ever since a young age, they have felt a profound need for knowledge — discovering as well as keeping it. They’re naturally drawn to things that spike this want for information from them, so it's obvious they’re immensely attracted to you.

Zöe had met you through mutual friends — well, through a younger sibling of one of their friends, to be more specific. You have crossed paths for the first time at a birthday party, and couldn’t stop thinking about you ever since. The sound of your laughter has permanently echoed through Hange’s brain on the daily, as they imagined what other sounds you could make — and what your smile would look like if said obscene sounds were leaving your lips instead.

“You’re so pretty.” Hange confesses as you straddle their lap. This is the 6th time you’re hooking up with them — not that you’re counting, or keeping track. It’s merely for context: you’ve built enough confidence around Hange to feel more natural about having sex with them, and way less robotic.

“Can we try something?” They mumble against your skin, fingers lightly tracing the natural curve of your back after swiftly removing your bra.

You hum in responde, sighing as Hange starts gently playing with your breasts. The tips of their fingers move against your nipples, exploring the amount of pressure and speed you like — at this point, they’ve gathered that you like it when they begin slowly, building the tension as you go.

“Could you touch yourself for me?” Their words are whispered, fiery. You get lost in Hange’s cologne — something warm and masculine, mixed with the faint scent of butterscotch (something that comes from a hair product, you guessed). “So I could watch?”

“Touch myself?” It’s not entirely a question, more of a need to know if you hear them right. Hange looks up at you through oval glasses, big brown eyes looking straight into yours. Their lips are reddish and puffy from the half hour you spent making out on your bed, illuminated by fairy lights and a few candles. They look etehreal, and perhaps you’re biased – but the sight of Hange electrifies you. 

Hange could be defined as a pervert, depending on the point of view: they have been curious about sex and women ever since they realized they are attracted to them, which they didn’t even know was a possibility before finding one of their father’s Playboy magazines hidden on the bottom drawer of his closet. Ever since Hange’s first kiss, they had wanted to know what it would feel like to feel a girl naked against them. And when they were still an awkward loser in high school and had sex for their first time, Hange knew that it would be one of their favorite things to do — explore girls and how they react under their touch. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Wanna know what you look like when you’re pleasuring yourself.” 

This specific curiosity took over Hange’s brain when you confessed having a wet dream about them earlier that week, and the thought alone of you waking up slippery wet from your sinful dreams has been eating them alive. 

“Okay.” You answer them breathlessly, knees digging on the soft mattress under you. Hange leaves you on the bed, half undressed and feeling like prey. 

Zöe takes a seat on your computer chair, moving it around so they can fully face you laying on your bed. The atmosphere makes everything even more intimate: your room, filled with pictures and clothes and stuffed animals, all these details about you… Hange feels so into you they might get sick from the thought alone. 

You lay on your back, removing your skirt and panties. Eager, Hange thinks. They almost want to lick their teeth, mouth watering at the thought of your taste. Taking a deep breath, your hands start to roam your legs, spreading them — you like to think you are prepared for this: you had taken a nice, long shower before the start of your romantic movie night. Your body feels soft after handfuls of lotion, your face fresh after skincare and make up products were carefully applied. It feels good to get ready for Hange, to behave like this for them – and them alone. 

“Pretend I’m not here.” They say, lips curling into a smirk. Zoe watches you behind thick glasses, brown eyes traveling through your entire figure. You chuckle nervously at their words, taking your panties off – lace, they notice. 

“Can’t really do that, can I?”

Despite your words, you do your best to grant their wishes. A single digit finds its way towards your folds, gently caressing your entrance, gathering the wetness and spreading it on your already needy clit. 

Hange lets out a sigh, unbuttoning the first few buttons of their dress shirt. Even though they like to act all calm and collected, you know they are just as into you as you are into them – isn’t this so exciting?

Rubbing your finger against your clit, in tight circles, your eyes close in pleasure. The thrill of having someone – not, not someone: Hange – watch you while pleasuring yourself is truly something you have never thought before. 

“Is this how you usually do this?” Hange inquires, fixing the pair of glasses on the bridge of their nose. They don’t mean to pry or judge, in any way: they just really want – have – to know what it is that you like. 

“Ah, it depends.” You breathe, not daring to stop. This has become a thing for you as much as it is for Hange, you believe. “Sometimes I use a toy.”

It’s almost like their ears perk up at your words. 

“What kind?” Their eyes are bright with curiosity. “Show me.”

You sit up, opening the drawer next to your bed. You take out a medium sized dolphin vibrator, and Hange almost moans on the sight. 

“This one…” You look at them, and then at the toy again. “Should I use it?”

Yes, Hange wants to say. It takes an immense amount of self control for them to not pin you against your bed and use the toy on you – edge you enough so you cry out of pleasure. They want to destroy you, and then put the pieces back together – a kind of ownership they don’t take lightly. 

“Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” They reply, getting up from the chair and sitting on the end of your bed, getting more comfortable to watch you spread for them.

You chose the toy, it seems, as you hold the vibrator tight against your clit and whimper. The toy sends shocks of pleasure through your body, and Hange swears they see God right before themself. 

“Oh, you dirty thing…” Hange whispers, gazing at your needy entrance clenching against nothing. They’re having so much fun with this. “So needy.”

In moments like this, they realize that you’re just like them. A hidden pervert, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Except, you are complementary in taste… how lucky are you to have found each other?

Their gaze falls upon your face: your eyebrows are knitting together in pleasure, expression contorting in blissful agony. It’s torture to have Hange so far away and so close, at the same time. Their presence intoxicates you. 

“What do you think about when doing this? What do you picture in that pretty head of yours?” 

A whine leaves your lips, as you close your eyes once again. This could go many ways, you think. Your mind is a dangerous place when it comes to your own pleasure, as it knows no boundaries to your personal wants – consciously, you want to hide from Hange, want to mask how badly you want them to ruin you. 

“Think about being used ngh everywhere I go. Can’t stop thinking, fuck, about getting fucked, bent over and used l-like a toy.” You manage to word vomit between panting and whimpering, voice cracking under the pressure of some of the words. “By you.”

Oh, they think. You’re such a sub. 

“Yeah?” Hange asks, eyes becoming impossibly darker over your sinful words. “What else?”

A bubble of warmth starts growing on your lower abdomen, as your eyelids flutter open only for you to be met with the sight of a worked up Hange, silver necklace dangling from their neck and on top of your face. 

“T-think about ngh… about you being mean to me.” Your words sound like a heavenly oath to their ears, as Hange smirks to themself. God, they want to ruin you for everyone else. “Mocking me ngh for being…”

You cannot finish the sentence, as whine escapes your lips and your eyes roll back into your skull. Hange merely watching you makes you even more desperate to cum. 

“For being such a pathetic slut?” They conclude, voice dripping with a faux honeyed tone. Hange flashes a wolfish smile, looking at their pretty prey spread for them – and only them. So vulnerable, so beautiful: they love to see your body’s reaction to just a few words. 

It’s so fun to play with you. 

There’s nothing you can do besides nodding, as you rock your hips against the vibrating toy. Your skin is sweaty, and you feel like you were reduced to a gooey mess by their words alone. Adrenaline runs through your veins, filling you with an antidote only Zoe could give you. 

“I can tell you’re close, princess” Hange chimes in, hand gently caressing your leg, watching you squirm under their light touch. “Yeah, I know. Can’t even speak when you get this horny, right?”

Your body is convulsing underneath their words and stare, feeling both humiliated and aroused simultaneously. Hange’s words are mean and loving, and you eat them up. 

“Sluts like you don’t need to think, or speak. Just moan for me and let go, princess.”

The bubble of warmth explodes on your lower abdomen, as a white hot feeling travels through yoru entire body. A sinful harmony of moans and whines escape from your lips, beautifully so. 

“Yeah, that’s it, so good. You’re so good, baby.” They mumble against the warm skin of your exposed stomach, leaving open mouthed kisses behind. “So good…”

Hange watches as you barely come down from your high, a messy breathless masterpiece beneath them. They watch as your breathing becomes less irregular, as your fucked out eyes flutter open and look up at them through dilated pupils 

“You look so good like this, angel. But I bet you’re gonna look so much better once I fuck you properly.”

#hange x reader #hange smut #hange x y/n #hange fanfic #hange x you #aot smut #hange zoe x reader

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage December 2023 Issue ft. Yuzuki Hirakawa Interview (translation below)

Publication: November 10, 2023 (between episodes 35-36)

"Remain Immovable"

Rita Kaniska, who rules the absolutely neutral country of Gokkan, is both the king and chief judge who passes down judgment on international criminals.

"The Law is the spear that pierces kings. The Law is the shield that protects man. For this reason, Gokkan will remain immovable."

Rita never wavers in their convictions at any time, and judges fairly according to the law.

However, just like anyone else, Rita also has a heart. They get angry at those who resell goods based on their beloved animated character "Moffun," and when their emotions get out of control, they scream in public.

When they tried to seal Grodie with the "Ice Seal," a secret sacrificial technique that's possessed within their right eye, they felt the fear of death. Still, Rita's strength lies in their determination to remain neutral and immovable as the king of Gokkan.

It must have been a positive thing for Rita to have friends who understood their way of living, were concerned about them, and tried to help them.

The current mission of the Royal Sentai, is to reclaim the countries of Chikyu that have been conquered by the Uchu Five Jesters. Goma, who rules Gokkan, is a difficult opponent, once messing around with the kings using a technique that switches bodies. What awaits Rita in the upcoming battle to reclaim Gokkan?

-I want to make use of the sword fighting skills I learned from Hachisuka-san-

"As the story progressed, the number of kings working together increased, but is there anything you're conscious of when expressing these relationships?"

Hirakawa: Basically, I try not to put my personal feelings into it, but after starting the second chapter, I feel like we're closer than ever. I'm not sure if a part of them that unconsciously feels at ease has emerged. However, I think Rita doesn't just think of them as their friends, rather, they're comrades that help protect Chikyu. When it comes to Hymeno, who is the closest to them, rather than being conscious of how I interact with her, I treat her naturally as Rita, reacting timidly to Hymeno's aggressive advances.

"We found it interesting that when they switched bodies with Yanma in episode 28, unlike the other kings, they didn't seem to become closer."

Hirakawa: Everyone else had good interactions, but we were in an interesting frame of, "Huh, what are we doing?" (laughs). In that episode, I also discussed with Director Kamihoriuchi Kazuya that among the kings, Yanma would probably enjoy being swapped the most, and that the most important thing was to enjoy the chaos of the situation. Also, I thought that if I went too hard in my approach, it would be too rough, or that it would come off as lame, so I decided to just do it naturally. The Director told me things like, "You don't have to try doing it like Yanma," so I felt like I played much more as myself

"Have you heard any feedback from Watanabe Aoto-san, who plays Yanma?"

Hirakawa: When we met up, he said, "It was alot of fun!" and "It was cool." But, Aoto's Rita was way too much (laughs). I don't really roll my eyes or cross my eyes or anything like that. "I" did that because I reached a state of maximum irritation due to the stress of being swapped…..if you think about it, could it be possible? When I saw the final cut and realized how he performed, I was surprised and asked myself, "I've been doing this?"

"What do you take into consideration when interacting with Morfonia, your retainer?"

Hirakawa: I try to be as "flat" as possible without being too overwhelming. Like in the kabedon scene in episode 25, when they want to convey their thoughts, I'm always conscious of conveying them clearly, even if it's in their own awkward way. No matter what Rita and Morfonia say to each other, they'll never leave each other, as they know that their relationship won't change, so I feel like they're not hesitant about it.

"Have you had any memorable interactions with Yuichi Hachisuka-san, PapillonOhger's Suit Actor?"

Hirakawa: We usually film separately from each other, so I share information with Hachisuka-san whenever we meet. He incorporates what I talk to him about into his actions after the transformation. When we're fighting unmasked, he's always by the camera man's side, giving me friendly and detailed advice. We also have alot of small talk that's unrelated to acting, so I'm very grateful that he's so open and friendly with me.

"In terms of unmasked action, we think that episodes 32 and 33 depicted some pretty intense action scenes."

Hirakawa: That's right. It was the first time in the second chapter that I had to fight unmasked, and there were quite alot of moves. Rita's fighting style is not to attack the enemy themself, but to cut them down as the enemies approach them, so sword fighting skills are important. It's important to have a sense of balance between stopping your movements and applying force, and Hachisuka-san taught me alot not only during action practice, but also on the set. I've always loved to move my body, and even before King-Ohger I participated in a few practice sessions for action scenes and became interested in it. Hachisuka-san taught me the basics of how to hold, swing, and draw out the sword, and I'd like to continue challenging myself even after King-Ohger is over.

-Overflowing emotions between my mission and fear-

"The cast members of King-Ohger are actively engaged on SNS, but we have the impression that Hirakawa-san especially has frequent opportunities to interact with the fans."

Hirakawa: I'm conscious of doing something on SNS every day. I belong to LDH, which is famous as an artist agency, and their artists have many opportunities to directly interact with their supporters at things such as live performances and release events. However, the acting team doesn't have many opportunities like that, so I wanted to create a place to interact with the fans, so I use the Twitter space to talk and stream on Instagram Live. Also, I wanted to give people a chance to get to know me through Rita. I'm glad that the fans enjoy the gap between me and Rita.

"I see. It sounds like you had some deep thoughts and were communicating them."

Hirakawa: Well, I've always liked talking, so when I'm home alone, I sometimes start saying, "I'm kinda bored," or "I'll talk for abit" (laughs). I feel that I've become better at speaking since I've started streaming, and that my thinking is faster than before. Up until now, I haven't had many opportunities to communicate with the fans, so when I read their comments, it was encouraging to realize that there were so many people who supported me.

"Other than Rita, if you had to name your favorite character, who would it be?"

Hirakawa: Since playing him in the body swap episode, I feel attached to Yanma. I've always wanted to play a role with that kind of cool feel and slightly rough tone. Also, I guess I'd say Gira. I think his charm lies in that he's straightforward, honest, and cute, but the anger he shows and the feelings he has for his friends is also appealing. His face is looking more and more like that of a king, and in episode 29, there's even an effect where lights rush from his eyes, which was super cool!

"Please tell us about some of the most memorable episodes so far."

Hirakawa: In episode 30, the secret of Rita's right eye was revealed, and the culprit behind the "Wrath of God" was revealed to be Grodie, which still leaves an impression on me. I didn't know about the secret of their right eye, so I was surprised when I read the script. Grodie is played by Amano Kousei-san, who is a senior at my agency, and he also performed in Kamen Rider (played Sakuya Tachibana/Kamen Rider Garren in Kamen Rider Blade), so I have fond memories of being able to co star with him.

"Shiono Akihisa-san, who plays Souji Rippukan (Kyoryu Green) in episodes 32 and 33, also comes from the same agency."

Hirakawa: Yes. Shortly after being chosen to play Rita, I happened to have the opportunity to meet Shiono-san in another production, where I told him that I would be appearing in Sentai. I was very happy to be able to work together in the collaboration episodes, with Shiono-san encouraging me with, "Do you best."

"Going back to episode 30, we think it was a major turning point from Rita's perspective."

Hirakawa: The relationship with Karras, the previous king, was explored in depth, and Rita's actions towards their mission and determination to protect their people was depicted, which I thought was cool to play. For the scenes where Rita's emotions were overflowing, I wanted to express them in advance, and wanted to express them within the atmosphere of the scene. The scene where Karras collapsed in front of my eyes was so powerful, that I was surprised at how much emotion I felt inside of me and how much it moved me. The scene where they use the "Ice Seal" on Grodie is especially emotional. It's a secret technique that seals away both yourself and your opponent, so using it will lead to Rita's death. Rita is conflicted between their duty as a king to protect their people, and their fear of dying. I played the role imagining those feelings, but since I had never experienced the loss of a loved one, it became so overwhelming, that I couldn't stop crying during filming, and had to be given time to calm down.

"You played the part with a great amount of emotion."

Hirakawa: When I read the script, I often write down what I'm thinking of at that moment, but for the scene where I use the secret technique, I wrote, "I leave the rest to you." Then, when it came time to perform, I imagined everyone's faces…..I thought, "I don't want to die," and "But" and I cried not only as Rita, but also as Yuzuki Hirakawa (laughs). By deciding to protect the lives of their people and the peace of Chikyu more than their own life, Rita was able to grow even more, and when Hymeno stopped them, I feel that they were able to firmly realize that they were not alone.

"Finally, please tell us about some future highlights."

Hirakawa: In episode 36, Rita will do some interesting things in the scenes regarding Hymeno's marriage matchmaking, but I think episode 38 will be the main highlight for Rita. Filming is about to begin (at the time of this interview), so I know I have to do my best......I really hope everyone will look forward to it (laughs). _

Question to Kaku So-san! (Kaguragi Dybowski's Actor)

Kaguragi often goes to different places alone, like infiltrating other places, without anyone noticing. I'm curious to know how he manages to stay out of everyone's sight with such a large body. I also want to know how he takes care of his long hair. If you look closely, Kaguragi's hair is quite smooth. It's actually a wig, but I'd like to hear Kaku-san's interpretation of how Kaguragi takes care of his smooth hair. (-Hirakawa)

Questions from Murakami Erica-san! (Hymeno Ran's Actor)

Q: What kind of food does Rita like? If you were to make a Gokkan coat for Hymeno, what would you propose?

I have a feeling that Rita likes sweet things. I personally like wagashi, so I think they'd appreciate that (laughs). A coat that's a dress with her legs showing would look cold, so it should be like a poncho and worn over the top. I think a long coat with a hood would be nice. A fluffy white ball (snowman) coat, or a kamikiri (mantis) coat! (-Hirakawa)

#yuzuyan... #ohsama sentai kingohger #kingohger #super sentai #rita kaniska #rita kanisuka #toku cast #kingohger cast #yuzuki hirakawa #hirakawa yuzuki #my scans #my translation #tokusatsu #animage #purple #ohsama sentai king ohger #king ohger #hymeno ran #kaguragi dybowski #moffun #so immovable their pose barely changes #kaguragi will be next it seems #finally...we get to learn his hair care routine 😳🗒️

[lara-cairncross]

I'm gonna dub myself babbling anon because I know I probably babble a lot. Anyway;

I was thinking about you AU and then I saw a picture of Draxum and thought about him being the pixie dust alchemist or a garden fairy, and then, when I thought about the pixie dust, I thought about the moon stone, which I'm getting off track about. Here are my questions! And sorry again.

1. Do you think any of the brothers would be selected in taking care of the Moonstone?

2. Has any of them been curious about the frost fairies? I'm sure Raph and Donnie has been part of the crews helping the animals cross and making the baskets respectively before.

3. Isn't it common for fairies to use mice to pull their wagons? Wouldn't it be awkward for Splinter to be just a rat?

4. Do you think April would be intrested in Pixue dust alchemy? In the series, she wanted to learn magic in witch town.

That's all my questions, so sorry for the new pile of them. But I also wanna tell you about things I thought about with characters like how Meat Sweats can be a baking fairy, i think that's what they are, and Mikey would drop by the baker fairies' workplace sometimes to watch (imagine Meat Sweats in tiny freaking wings that shouldn't hold him up but it does, haha) but I think I'm being too overwhelming and I should probably not be bothering about this but anyway, babbling again. Thank you for taking your time on this and sorry for wasting it too, haha.

First of all-- I LOVE the idea of Draxum as some kind of Pixie Dust alchemist!! I don't know if I'll ever get around to drawing that, but it's an excellent idea :DD Originally I was trying to figure out if I wanted Draxum or Big Mama to step into Queen Clarion's shoes, but now I'm leaning towards Big Mama as the Queen and Draxum as some kind of fairy alchemist on the lam!

I'm not sure if any of them would be selected, honestly? I mean, the only one who would really be chosen to create the scepter is Donnie-- and although he's talented, he and the rest of the boys are infamous in Pixie Hollow for being, like, SUPER reckless and adventurous! I don't think anyone would trust the four of them around a priceless artifact lmao

Raph definitely takes an interest in the frost fairies/the Winter Woods! He loves helping the animals cross over and seeing their pelts change color, but he does have to be careful-- not only because his wings can get damaged by the cold, but also because it's really easy for him to switch into brumation mode if he accidentally crosses the border. That'd be a disaster all around. Donnie doesn't really care about the frost fairies or the Winter Woods-- he has too much work to do back on his side of the border-- and Mikey doesn't like it over there at ALL, since it's much colder and cloudier!! He thrives off of warm temperatures and sunny skies :DD Leo would probably be pretty indifferent to the Winter Woods, but I can see him challenging himself to fly across the border and get back before his wings get damaged, just to test out how fast he can fly.

Man, I need to figure something out for Splinter. I honestly have no idea where he fits in here! Maybe he could take over Lord Milori's role in the Winter Woods? That could be a fun dynamic to play with when it comes between him, Big Mama, and the turtles :D

April would defffffffinitely be interested in all things related to magic/pixie dust/fairies in general. The turtles tell her all kinds of stories about Pixie Hollow and show off their magic to her, but I imagine that she'd always be sort of disappointed that she can't experience Neverland for herself-- not yet, at least.

Thanks for the questions, dearest babbling anon! They were fun to answer 😚🧡🧡

#rottmnt fairy au #fairy au

[vgperson]

What Did I Do In 2023?

Whatever I wanted, mostly.

----

As I mentioned last year, my site now has an RSS feed with basically everything I've done back to 2020, so this will mainly be going over the same stuff from that, just with added context.

In January, I finally sat down and properly realized an idea for a short story I'd had sitting around for a while: From the Sidelines, about a fantasy RPG expedition going sideways. I remain very proud of it in both concept and execution, and hope people read it.

In February, Your Turn To Die was released on Steam Early Access, receiving character profiles and some bonus mini-episodes, adding two more later in the year.

After finishing From the Sidelines, I carried that momentum to revisit my Ut0p1a story series about funny computer animals. I'd always meant to continue it - and conclude it - but hadn't been satisfied with the ideas I had for it until totally rethinking them this year. In March, I posted the remaining stories one after another: Right to Code and Left to Code. I'm very proud of these as well. Also in March, Kenshi Yonezu released LADY. (Video, interview)

In April, Uri released the Data Book of the Strange Men Series, a big collection of the writing she's done on the games in the series, with a lot of new parts as well, all translated by me.

Then in May... uh, well, let's see. In April, Capcom released the Mega Man Battle Network Legacy Collection. I always adored the Battle Network games, and was initially excited that they finally did the thing... but by the time it came out, I was pretty disappointed by how, while you certainly couldn't call them low-effort ports, the effort didn't extend everywhere I thought it should, with the biggest offenders being the total absence of any "convenience features" except Buster Max Mode, the bad font, and the almost entirely untouched translations.

So, I ended up deciding I might as well just replay the originals, and that was a fun time (aside from the parts that were bad). Doing this, I couldn't help but notice how... turbulent the translations were, even if I'd always known they were less than ideal. I mean, the first two games just used periods for ellipses despite the tight character limits, then in BN3 they had an ellipsis character... but it's center-aligned, Japanese-style? Aside from the intro, which has normal ones? Gosh, somebody should fix that - it's simple enough to find and edit in YY-CHR. "JapanMan" is silly, too - I wonder if anybody made a patch for that? Wait, what do you mean there's just a tool to extract and insert text in all the Battle Network games including the Legacy Collection???

Thus began a journey that sort of occupied the rest of my year. First I did the BN3 Translation Revision, trying not to worry too much about cross-referencing the Japanese text unless something seemed wrong, so that I didn't spend too long on the project. Then I began to consider BN2, with its unfortunate "foreigner" text that would need some more significant reworking. I established more convenient tools for comparing with the Japanese script, and thus did a much more thorough job with it, releasing the BN2 Translation Revision in June (AKA Princess Pride Month).

Finally, after giving myself time to recover and actually finish replaying the series, I knew what I had to do to close things out. With the BN4 Translation Revision, you can finally play Battle Network 4 with a translation that isn't such a mess. Whether you'd want to is for you to decide, though if you can get over the structure, I don't think it's the worst game in the series by any means. (Oh, and in December I also updated the BN3 Revision to 1.1, doing a thorough pass with the methods I'd honed. But I think I'm pretty much good on MMBN translations now.)

Anyway, backtracking to other things that happened during my Battle Network haze... June had Kenshi Yonezu's Moongazing (video, interview), and July had Globe (video, interview, interview).

Last but not least, released in November, I translated Refind Self: The Personality Test Game, a short game from Lizardry (creator of 7 Days to End with You) with a fun concept.

----

Obviously I was right to have said "no promises" last year. But really, Your Turn To Die should get its final part on Steam sometime next year, maybe even early-ish in it. That's certainly the goal.

I'm also hoping to buckle down and finish one of my own games, but as usual, who knows how that'll pan out. Letting my whims carry me this year let me finally finish From the Sidelines and Ut0p1a, which was great, and it also led me down a Battle Network rabbit hole, which was... fine, but definitely for a narrower audience. I'd always like to get back to more free game translations and the like, too, but it takes effort to find things I'd want to translate. For now, I think my increasing desire to be able to let loose some of these original games I've been planning, and the stories in them, might come out on top.

#vgperson

[lively-potter]

— nepenthe ; jjk ; part two

— genre ; age gap, angst, fluff, smut, sheltered oc, ceo jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )

— warnings ; please note that in the beginning, the oc is in an abusive home — and if this triggers you please do not read. the oc is of age but nothing smutty will be happening for a while — but there WILL be smut. A small bit of SA is in this chapter and if it tiggers you, don’t read.

— intro, part one

— 2024 © @LivelyPotter

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

— word count ; 2.2k

***

SOLARIS January 20th, 2024 Charleston, SC

THE NAME SENT TREMBLES OF FEAR DOWN MY SPINE.

"Chairman Jeon?" my words cut off in a whimper at the reminder of the man everyone was frightened of. It was no secret to everyone how influential Chairman or Mister Jeon was and how much power he held by being the Chairman and owner of most of the multi-billion dollar companies in the United States and South Korea; the country he was originally from.

He even owned a Gentlemen's club here, called Ataraxia, in Charleston that Father visits more often than he ought — when the Chairman allows other people in the private club one another month.

I bit down on my lip as more thoughts raced through my brain.

Chairman Jeon wasn't a man even the most courageous of people wanted to cross, and those who did were either found dead...or just disappeared into thin air. He was the kind of man parents threatened their children with when they wanted them to behave. He was the same man Father threatened me with when I wouldn't stop crying after Mama died. Chairman Jeon was the most powerful sort of man Charleston had ever seen. It was also rumored that he had strong ties to the Mafia.

A cold chill passed through me at the thought.

Most of the people who lived here were grateful he barely made appearances, since ninety-five percent of the population of Charleston worked for him.

It had been months since Chairman Jeon had been here – I reckoned he spent most of his time in Korea, where his permanent residence was.

"Go to your room, girl, and remember –" he cut himself off to glare heatedly at me, "this house had better be spotless. I won't have my friends visit a pig stye."

I jerkily nodded and without wasting a moment, I raced away from him and shot to my bedroom. The first thing I did was wrap myself in my blanket and huddle in the corner – it was something I did when I wanted to think clearly.

Picking at the skin on my lip, I hesitantly glanced out the window and sighed. This would be a nerve-wracking week.

A stuffed purple bunny sat on the edge of my bed – a stuffed animal five-year-old me lovingly named; Mr. Carrots – caused me to smile. I shivered slightly underneath my blanket, thanking god I was finally warming up – and snatched the bunny from my bed and snuggled close to its neck.

Mr. Carrots had been with me the majority of my life and he was one of the only pieces of Mama I had left.

He brought me peace and comfort when Mama couldn't. I was anxious for what the next few days would bring but I didn't have any other choice but to just let them play out the way God intended.

*** SOLARIS January 21st, 2024 Charleston, SC

THE NEXT DAY WAS MUCH BRIGHTER THAN THE LAST.

Father had left before I woke up, sniffling with the first signs of a cold. I wrapped myself in one of Father's old sweaters to keep myself warm.

Wrapping my arms around my tummy with a flinch, I knew I better pay attention when it came time for Father to come home. The last thing I needed was for him to catch me wearing his old clothes to keep me warm.

The only thing I had to do before I started taking overthink down and cleaning was to place a new bandaid on the gash on my wrist.

Doing that, quickly, stomach grumbling in hunger, I entered the kitchen with a longing glance out of the tiny window above the kitchen sink.

I had lost count of how many years it had been since I was allowed to go outside the house and explore. I reckoned it had been years. I hardly remembered what kind of places were outside but I did remember how much I loved walking through the woods with Mama, collecting pretty leaves and tiny pincones. I smiled and started to twist the ends of my hip-length hair. I still had those leaves tucked inside the old pages of one of my old storybooks that Mama used to read to me. The little pinecones were stashed inside my little trinket box, along with the little acorns – we only found those when we were lucky.

I carefully grabbed a knife from the drawer, and cut a small apple in half, and nibbled on it as I pulled long hair out of my face with a ribbon and prepared to start cleaning.

I hummed happily under my breath as I picked up the glass, scrapped knees aching but I paid it no mind.

Hours passed by in a blur and I thankfully got the entire house cleaned and dinner and snacks already presented on the table before I declared myself done.

A grin beamed across my lips as I trotted to my bedroom and closed the door behind me. My bare feet padded on the carpet as I neared the small window a foot from the floor and knelt in front of it. My hands cupped my jawline, eyes watching the sun set with a heavy heart. Tears pricked my eyes and I closed them and clasped my hands together in front of my heart and began to speak.

"Dear heavenly Father," I started off, eyes closed and head tilted towards the sky, "I thank for letting me wake up and experience another day on this earth. I thank you for keeping me safe today, and being by my side when no one else is. I ask that you please watch over Mama and let her know that I love her and can't wait to be reunited with her one day." a lone tear dripped down my cheek, "Please, dear Lord, bless me and keep me safe and continue to hold me within your arms. I know that you have a plan for me," I continued, knees shifting.

"God always has a plan, my little Solaris." Mama's voice rang inside my head. "No matter how rough life gets at times, just know that God will always be there for you and after those hard times are over...the rewards are immense and glorious."

"But please, I just want to not be afraid anymore." I sniffled, "I want the pain to stop." the tear slid down my head and dripped onto my clasped hands. "I thank you for hearing my prayer and I hope you'll answer me soon." a small smile crept upon my lips. "I guess that's all for now – oh! And could you please keep me safe tonight and when Chairman Jeon comes back, please? I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but you're the only one besides Mama that loves me and I know that you hear me when I pray...um, Thank you again! In Jesus' name I pray, Amen."

My soul lightened and my heart rate relaxed and then sped up when the noises of the front door opening. A little gasp escaped my lips and I smothered.

Don't be seen or heard, Solaris.

The voices of Father's terrifying friends had me balking in place, arms wrapping around myself to ground my trembling.

With shaky fingers, I peeled Father's sweater off my body and stuffed it underneath my bed — I'd have to sneak inside his room and put it back when he left.

I sat in the corner of my bedroom, knees pulled to my chest, and listened closely to what was happening in the living room.

The house was old and nearly falling apart, which meant the walls were thin. Pressing an ear to the wall, my eyes fluttered closed to focus. But I didn't have to listen long.

"Girl!"

Father's boom made me stand at full attention. I held my hands together to shield the shakiness from them and scurried from the room.

Soon enough, I was standing in front of Father and his friends. Two older men who gave me the creeps.

James and Stevie.

They eyed me like I was a piece of meat when they plopped down on the sofa and stroked along their bulging beer bellies.

My lips trembled, remembering their slimy touches along my legs and biceps the last time they came here.

"Get us beer."

I stood ramrod straight and nodded.

I left the living room without another word and withdrew three bottles of Modelo and opened them. Shockingly being able to juggle them in my arms, I hunched my shoulders and walked slowly back to the living room — heart thundering inside my chest.

When I returned, Father was gone and only James and Stevie were there. Their eyes latched onto me in a second and they exchanged looks.

My eyes glossed over when Stevie ran a hand through his greasy hair and mustache while licking his nearly invisible lips.

"W-Where's Father?" I asked, even hearing the unaltered fear in my croaking voice. I took hesitant steps near them and slowly handed them the beers in my hand.

It was James who answered.

"Bathroom, sweetcheeks."

I only nodded in return, internally cringing at the terrible name.

Slowly sighing in relief, I turned and placed Father's Modelo on the coffee table and stilled when I felt a hand land on my lower back.

Disgust welled in my gut as another hand landed on the exposed skin on the back of my knee and caressed my skin.

"Don't." I stiffened, terror locking my limbs. "Please." I shook my head, turning to face the men. Their faces were held in a lecherous glare as their unfocused eyes glazed over.

Stevie's hand tightened around my knee and tugged as James' hand fell from my lower back.

"Why don' you take a seat?" James asked, fingering a yellow patch on his skin, running a hand on his swollen face — probably due to high cholesterol.

"No thank you." I shook my head and mentally begged Father to come back. I felt black spots dance across my vision in a slow, swift motion.

I felt so faint.

Their touches on my body made me feel disgusted. Dirty.

Even though I hated showers because of my experience with them, all I wanted to do in this moment was go under the scalding spray and wash my skin raw in hopes I'd never remember the feeling of their hands on me. I was so scared.

"I'm tired." I tried to refuse, tugging myself further away from them.

Stevie's eyes sharpened at my blatant disregard of his desires and he locked his limbs, preparing to jump up from his seat.

A tear left my eye in relief as Father stomped into the room, loudly complaining of the PowerPoint slide they had to finish before Chairman Jeon came back.

Tomorrow.

"I swear," Father grunted, plopping down in his recliner and snatching the beer from the table. "Every time that damned man comes back — everyone freaks out."

I slowly started in his direction, body positioning behind his chair. I felt my body relax the tiniest bit being away from those two men.

Stevie took a glance at me before looking at Father, "No shit." He agreed with an eye roll.

"I just don't know what Chairman Jeon just don't stay the fuck in Korea. Where he and that gang of his belongs."

My head was hung towards the ground as I listened closely to them bashing the Chairman. Speaking of how he basically took over Charleston with little to no work.

I didn't know how much of that was true — but I also thought they were just jealous of his success. I was scared of the Chairman, but I can also give credit when credit is due.

"Go to your room, girl, and leave us." Father ordered without looking at me.

I stood at attention and jerkily nodded.

I scurried to my bedroom and locked the door behind me.

In just a few moments, I allowed myself to fall down onto the floor and claw at my skin in hopes that I would scratch away the memories.

Would tomorrow be a better day?

I prayed that it would be.

author's note ; ✨

if you want to be apart of my taglist, just let me know! thank you so much for reading! I appricate every single one of you <3

#bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #wattpad #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkoooook #bts jungguk #nepenthes

[meowmeowriley]

Anybody else see that art on Twitter of Soap as an Animal Crossing villager, and then the other art of that Soap sitting on Doom Guy Ghost's shoulder? Anybody else feeling so incredibly normal about it? Anyway. Have this.

***

"C'mon uncle John, would it kill you to smile? Pretend you wanna be here?" Soap was doing his best, he really was. He loved his nephew, and when his sister Isla said he couldn't go to the convention because it was too far away and he didn't have an adult, well what are uncles for?! But he hadn't taken into account that 1) he's never been to a cosplay convention and 2) he's seriously out of his depth when it comes to the colorful characters around them. If anyone asked he'd be mortified to admit that he'd spent the better part of his leave following his nephew around, taking pictures of him with characters from various video games and anime. No, he'd be keeping this experience to himself.

"I'm not not enjoying myself." Andrew rolled his eyes. "I just don't know any of the characters. I haven't played a video game in ages, and I've never watched anime." Plenty of other soldiers did watch anime, and there was nothing wrong with that, he'd just never joined in.

Andy snorted. "What was the last game you played, old man?" Soap resented that. He wasn't even thirty yet.

"I dunno, Halo maybe?"

"The original?!"

"Think so." Soap said with a shrug.

"So the year I was born. Got it." Yikes.

Suddenly Andy was excitedly pointing at a large man in green and gray armor, in the middle of a crown. "Oh you have to recognize that guy!" And did he ever. How could anyone not recognize Doom Guy? And he was holding the BFG.

"Ohhhohohoho yeah. I know Doom Guy." John had nearly forgotten how much he'd loved the Doom games as a kid. "And before you say it, those games are old, even for me."

"They redid the games in 2016 and 2020. It's relevant again." Oh. And with that Soap was once again being dragged toward some random person in a costume.

Something this guy was getting right was that he wasn't speaking. He'd nod, wave, aim his gun, but he didn't utter a word. Soap couldn't see a thing through the helmet visor. I wonder if he can even see outta that?

The guy caught sight of them, evidently he could see, and tilted his head while looking down at Soap. "That things pure dead brilliant." He found himself marveling at the BFG in the man's armored hands.

It looked like it was actually made of metal. And it actually glowed! How the man had gotten the green lights to work, he was dying to know. Trying to configure it in his head, he nearly missed when the man held it out slightly for him. "Can I?" He asked, just making sure. Oh he'd kill for something like this in the field. Pure devastation. Doom Guy nodded and John took the gun. Holding it, it was a hell of a lot lighter than he'd imagined. The fuck is this thing made of?

Andy popped up beside him. "Can we get a picture with you mate?" To that, Doom Guy nodded. Maybe Soap would tell people he'd been here, he wanted a picture of him holding this gun hung up at his desk.

Andy backed up, people kindly stayed out of the way as the picture was taken. Doom Guy posed, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Soap held the gun as best he could like he would a rifle. Not aimed at anyone, but ready. "We're good." Andy called. Doom Guy  held up his hand to stop him, then stuck out one finger and swirled his hand around. "Huh?" Andy thought for a moment. "Another?" Doom Guy nodded and gave a thumbs up. Really taking his character seriously. Who were they to deny him, this was cool as fuck. Soap readied himself to take the next picture, giving the camera a feral grin, just like the first, when Doom Guy placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down.

"Enjoying the convention Johnny?" Startled at the use of his name that he knew he hadn't given the man, he whipped around, instinctively pointing the gun in his hands at the chest of the other man.

Then it dawned on him. "Ghost?!" He asked incredulously. There's no fucking way.

The man in question began laughing. He reached up and removed his helmet. Shaking his head, Ghost's messy, dark blonde hair flew in every direction.

Unlike Las Almas, he wasn't drenched in sweat, there was no grease paint, and light brown hair was longer and curled slightly. Shit he had freckles. Shit he was cute. Dangerous thoughts, John.

"I didn't think this was your kinda thing, Johnny." Ghost said with a crooked grin that perfectly framed his crooked teeth.

John was no saint. He'd been flirting with Ghost since they met. Secretly really wanted to have sex with him, but he'd only seen the man's face that one time, and now his mind was going a million kilometers an hour trying to take in every inch on display. Thoughts both pure and impure ran through his head, and the only thing that managed to make its way to his mouth was "Where'd you get this thing?" Normally he was a better flirt, but normally he was flirting with the visage of death. Not a pretty man with freckles. Well he was, but not really.

"I made it." Ghost shrugged, armor clacking as his shoulders rose and fell. "Same as the suit. It's all EVA foam and 3D printing."

"You made this?!"

"Yeah? I made my masks too. What, you think I bought those?" Ghost smirked.

Andy had jogged back over. "I took a video, so we could take screenshots." He handed the phone over to Ghost.

"I'm absolutely keeping this, Johnny." He said as he typed in his number and sent the video to himself. Damn, Andy got Ghost's number before he did.

"Johnny?"

"Shut it, Andy." He warned. "We work together. Never in a million years thought I'd see him out here though."

"I go to any convention I can make. It's fun. I have other suits. Isaac Clark from Deadspace, Master Chief from Halo. I like to wear them and make people smile. I don't get to do that often." He seemed lost in thought for a second, face darkening. Just as quickly as it had happened, the expression was gone. "You go to conventions often?"

"First one. But I could be persuaded to go to more." John smiled his best flirty smile. Andy snickered, and earned himself an elbow to the ribs.

***

Now I desperately wanna see Soap at a con dressed like Isabelle while holding the super shotgun.

#please someone draw this #please please please #im begging #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghoap #fanfic #soapghost #text post #convention fic

[starlahuskyz]

So I've never played animal crossing, but I thought to myself...how would the lost boys look if they were animal crossing villagers. I might make the rest of the cast but only if enough people are interested.

EDIT: I forgor to give paul and dwayne tails so I fixed it

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #tlb dwayne #tlb david #tlb paul #tlb marko #tlb 1987 #animal crossing #animal crossing villagers #mashup #digital art #art #fanart

[im-a-marvel-ous-hoe]

Daddy’s Favorite Story | Bucky Barnes (3rd Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this pic!)

Hey everyone! I hope you’re enjoying my stories! We’re on day 3 of fluffy Christmas fics! 🩵

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics! ✨

~~~~

“Daddy, can you please read me one more story?” I heard Grace’s voice on the other side of her bedroom door. I held a laundry basket in my hands, almost finished with the household chores for the day. I was about to walk in to ask our 5 year old if she needed anything from mommy before I stopped myself once I realized her dad was in the room.

I smiled to myself at the thought of her and Bucky bonding before she went to sleep. Placing the basket on the floor, my right reached out for the doorknob to take a peek at the loves of my life. Bucky was sat down on her bed, she was lying down with a small pile of her stuffed animals around her. She held onto a goat stuffed animal she got from her uncle Steve for her birthday earlier this year.

“You said that two books ago!” Bucky laughed as she sat up in her bed, getting ready to fight to get her way. “But – But this one is the last one! I promise!” She clasped her little fingers together and looked up at her father, giving him the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. Her blue eyes meeting his own as he tried to resist giving in.

“No, sweetheart, don’t do this to me!” She pouted her lips as he covered his face with his hand. The amount of love he has for his daughter will obviously make it difficult for him to say no to her. “Pleeaassee?” He peeked at her through his fingers and chuckled to himself. “Arghh… fine. You win.” She giggled and got settled into her bed, bringing her blanket closer to her and she watched her father in awe.

“Okay, one more story and you promise me that you’ll go to sleep after this, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as she nodded enthusiastically. I crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned against the doorframe, watching this all play out in front of me. He looked through her small bookshelf and picked one up, inspecting it. He turned to look at her and smiled, tapping onto the cover of the book. “This one is a classic, sweetheart. It’s one of daddy’s favorites.” He opened the book in his hands, cleared his throat and began reading.

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.”

Bucky made sure to lean in and show her the pictures. Her little eyes scanned the pages as she held onto her goat stuffie closer to her. I softly smiled to myself, thinking about how lucky I am to have found someone like Bucky to share the rest of my life with. To live a quiet domestic life with.

“The children were nestled, all snug in their beds.”

He leaned in and tickled her stomach as her laughter filled the room. Her cheeks tinted pink as he continued reading her a story for bedtime.

“While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.

And momma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out in the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.”

He stood up abruptly and spread his arms out as Grace watched him with anticipation. He walked over to her window and brushed her curtains to sway them back and forth to give as much visual effects as possible.

“Away to the window flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.”

He quickly looked around her room for a reindeer stuffie, but all he could see was her goat. He grabbed it and made it look as if it was flying. “Daddy, that’s not a reindeer!” Grace laughed. “Whaaattt? No, it totally is!”

“No he’s not!” He bowed his head for a moment and looked up, smiled at her. “Well, let’s just pretend baby, okay?” She giggled and nodded her head.

“With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!”

I couldn’t help but think of how he’s such an amazing father. He’s going all out as best as he can just to make her night. To think we were both so scared to become parents is crazy to me. I don’t know what we were so scared of. Since Grace came into our lives, it’s been nothing but bliss. I can’t imagine our lives without her and I can’t imagine not doing this with Bucky.

“To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!’

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.”

Bucky grabbed her goat and pranced it on her bed, making it look like it was walking closer and closer to her. She smiled as Bucky continued to read the next part of the story.

“As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.”

He cleared his throat as his voice pitched a little higher than usual as he spoke.

“His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.”

He walked towards her closet and quickly rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. He came out with her white scarf wrapped around his mouth to imitate a white beard. Walking back towards his daughter, he reached for her pillow. “Excuse me sweetheart.” She giggled and sat up as she watched him stuff the pillow in his shirt and placed his hands on his belly, letting out a deep laugh. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Grace burst out laughing as she watched her daddy pretend to be Santa Claus. I brought my hand to my mouth to try to stifle a laugh as I watched him in amusement.

“He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.”

He leaned in and pinched her nose, smiling as she let out a giggle. Her eyes gleaming with admiration towards her father.

“And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight —

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

She cheered at the end of the story as Bucky placed the book down on her bedside table. He laughed and took the pillow out from his shirt and placed it comfortably behind her head. “Did you enjoy the story?” She nodded and yelled out a big “yes!” He slid off her scarf and placed it next to the book.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m glad you liked it sweetheart.” He brushed a hair away from her face and smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too daddy. Thank you for reading me a story.”

He chuckled and nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, it’s time to head to bed! It’s late.” He tucked her into bed, placed one last kiss on her forehead and bid her goodnight. He made his way to the door and saw me standing there. “That was a lovely story.” I stated as his face turned a light shade of pink. “Yeah well..” He closed Grace’s door behind him and looked up at me. “How much did you hear?”

“Oh, not much… only all of it.” I smiled at him as he turned to look away in embarrassment. “Oh God.. so, did you see..?” I nodded as he covered his face with his hands. “I especially liked the part where you pretend to be Santa. That was a nice touch.”

“Hey, I was just trying to give her visuals. What I did was amazing.” He embraced me from behind and placed his hands on my stomach, rubbing small circles. “Of course it was amazing! I’m not saying it wasn’t.” He placed a soft kiss on my cheek as I placed my hands on top of his. We stood there, enjoying the silence between us for we don’t get much of that nowadays. I closed my eyes for a moment and softly smiled. We both sighed in content.

“She’ll be here in a few months.” I quietly spoke as he hummed, his hand not leaving the small bump in my belly. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Maybe you could do what you did for Grace tonight again when she gets here.” I chuckled. “It could become a Christmas family tradition.” He chuckled as I pulled back so I could turn to look at him. “I’ll think about it.” He leaned down and placed a kiss upon my lips before pulling away and bending down to grab the laundry basket.

“Head on up to the couch, doll. I’ll finish cleaning up. You just relax and get a movie ready for us to watch, okay?” I nodded my head as we both made our way to the living room.

“Y/N?”

I turned to look at him, my hand instinctively going towards my belly. “Yeah?” He just smiled at me, the kind of smile that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“I love you.” I couldn’t help the blush that rushed to my cheeks. How is it that he’s still able to do that to me? I will never know. I smiled back at him.

“I love you more.”

He scrunched his nose and chuckled. “I think that’s up for debate.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his smile as he turned away to go finish cleaning up the house. Soon our household will go from 3 to 4 and who else knows how bigger it’ll get after that. I’m not worried though, because I’ve got the best partner to do this with. Nothing could be better than this.

I can’t wait for our family to grow.

~~~~

I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky x reader #marvel christmas #marvel Christmas Masterlist #‘twas the night before Christmas #i havent written in so long #please go easy on me #🎄✨🎄✨

[queenburd]

Cross posted to ao3. Very mild formatting differences. Comments make me happy.

Hey, folks, this one is heavy, long, and full of repetitive text and phrases. While I know that's par for the course with this game, I bring it up because I know writing it made me feel weird at times, and it intentionally leans into its theme of deterioration. Take care of yourselves. We're dealing with the Figurines Ending, the Epilogue, and the Skip button.

If you like my writing, please consider tipping me. I also have commissions and a paypal donation button.

|.|.|.|

The first thing Stanley does, when the reset hits and he finds himself staring at his desk, is pick up the mug that sits on the corner and hurl it out the door of his office. It hits the wall beside the doorframe on the opposite side of the room, and shatters on impact.

“Stanley?! What in God’s name—“

He screams.

It’s a hoarse noise. It’s deep and it’s broken and it hurts to get out, but he screams because there’s something horrible inside him, something he needs to purge. The noise cuts out, and then begins again.

The chair is grabbed next—he hooks his arms around the backrest and lifts the thing to chest height before he flings it with all his strength. A wheel catches on the doorframe to his office and the chair crashes to the floor, hitting the wall with an almighty, horrendous crash and sliding partway across the hideous beige carpet.

“Stanley!”

His chest heaves with fierce, angry panting. His cheeks are wet. Another noise wrenches itself from his throat. Stanley turns to his desk and swipes his arm across everything on it, knocking pencils and papers and pens to the floor. He slams his fists on it. He turns and kicks one of the filing cabinets, turns and paces in the little room like a caged animal.

There is so much built up inside him that he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is that he’s going to rip this place apart with his bare hands.

It’s not just anger, you must understand. It’s much more complicated than that. You see, Stanley has just come from the Epilogue.

-

The sand blows around him. The wind is cold and fierce. The sun is unforgiving. The moon is a large lamp in the sky.

And Stanley is alone.

He walks for what feels like eternity. He walks for what seems like mere minutes. He walks towards nothing. He turns in every direction. He puts one foot in front of the other.

And Stanley is alone.

The fire doesn’t warm him. He can’t dislodge the chairs from the ground. There’s sand in his shoes and shirt and mouth. He wraps his arms around his chest and walks and walks.

And he is alone.

-

“Yes, I'm remembering something now. I remember before this whole story got started.

Back then, I was... I was different; I used to make big decisions, I was passionate! I was skeptical! I weighed each decision with profound thoughtfulness.

And then, somewhere along the way, I stopped making decisions.

I became lazy. And I came up with—well—I came up with a character named Stanley, to do my thinking for me. He would make the decisions, he would decide which way to go, I would cheer him on as he collected figurines for no reason.

Why did I invent Stanley? Was I lonely?

Yes, perhaps that's it. Perhaps I needed to imagine I had companionship. And Stanley really did make for a wonderful companion, even if he was a fiction.

But—ahh, I suppose it's grown old. I-I want to think for myself again. I want to go back to how it used to be.

Yes, I can be on my own again. I can do it! I'll be stronger this time. I'll take care of myself. I don't need Stanley anymore.

Oh, but he truly was so much fun to play with!

You know what? Since we're in the Memory Zone, how about one more good memory?

Let's go back, just once, and give Stanley one more run of the office! And then, I'll retire him for good. I did enjoy telling his story—so very much.

Okay, here we go.

This is the story of a man named Stanley.”

-

The Memory Zone is flooded with sand. The bucket does little to comfort Stanley, even as he holds it to his chest. He follows the power cord deeper into the deserted building, feeling numb.

-

[ Narrator? ]

[ Narrator, what are you talking about? ]

[ Can’t you see me? Hey! Hey! Narrator! ]

[ Why won’t you answer me? Answer me, please! ]

[ Narrator! ]

-

“I’ll take care of myself. I don’t need Stanley anymore.”

-

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

The buttons glow softly. He presses them mindlessly.

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

What once was a source of amusement leaves an ashy taste in his mouth. The bastard never tried, in the end, to make these buttons work. Like everything else, he half-assed it, then abandoned it when something else caught his interest. Left it to collect dust. Left it to be forgotten, with the rest of the oh-so-precious memories.

With Stanley.

Hurt blooms in his chest. It’s been minutes—it’s been years. Time doesn’t mean anything at all in this stupid game. Nothing means anything. The thousand thousand runs they’ve played don’t mean anything. The conversations they had don’t mean anything. Their friendship doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t mean anything.

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Stanley.”

-

“Stop sniggering, Stanley, you’re ruining my take! Oh, it’s no use, we’ll have to start from the top.”

Stanley giggles around the hand he has pressed firmly to his mouth. He wants to be apologetic, and he’s glad the Narrator is involving him in this new promotion for the upcoming update, but the delight in him keeps bubbling over. It’s so rare to see the fellow direct that old familiar vitriol at someone other than Stanley himself. After so long knowing him, hearing him attempt to be menacing and nasty is outright silly.

“Wh—Silly?! You impetuous—Stanley, stop laughing!!”

Sorry, he’s sorry! A little off-balance from his own laughter, Stanley climbs onto the set and adds another tally to the whiteboard there.

“Unbelievable,” the voice mutters while he climbs back off the set and makes sure the camera is still centered on the tripod. “Here I am, trying to make a serious critique of game developer habits, and you demand to be included so I include you, and what do I get? Mockery. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Comments like these do little to dampen Stanley’s spirits, but he does attempt to sober himself. He does, after all, appreciate that the fellow has gone through all the effort to include him in brainstorming this one and setting it up. It was his idea to include the clocks and the tally board, and he really does think the shot is improved for it.

He sits back into the metal folding chair quietly. No more laughing. Promise. He’ll manage it this time.

The Narrator clears his throat. “Right. Let me review the script again.”

Stanley nods. His eyes flick around the small office set, then back to the computer monitor.

Man, has it really been almost nine years? It feels like they’ve been doing this for much longer.

“Well, really it’s only a little more than eight years, if I’m being honest. The original HD game released in October of 2013, so depending on when Ultra Deluxe drops in 2022, it may only be a couple months past the eighth anniversary.”

That’s being a bit generous to the developers, Stanley thinks. Does the Narrator really think it will drop in January?

“Oh, I don’t know, Stanley! I’m guessing, same as you.”

Still. Over eight years. Why does it feel like they’ve been here for much longer?

“Well,” the voice sniffs, “it could be for a number of reasons. Time is relative in the Parable, after all. Then of course there’s the fact you rarely sleep, since you don’t need to, so you get a lot more time than most proper humans would, since the usual human circadian rhythm makes them lose at least eight hours in a day. That’s fifty-six extra hours a week you have over most. Multiply by fifty-two, and then again by eight, and that’s not an insubstantial amount of time, I would say.”

That's fair. That's... shoot, Stanley isn't fantastic with numbers. That's... Fifty by fifty is twenty-five hundred, then six and and two is twelve—

“Twenty-three thousand, two hundred ninety-six hours. Divided by twenty-four, it's an additional 970.6 days, which means over two and a half additional years.”

Did he just pull up a calculator?

“Didn't.”

He totally did. Stanley heard the tapping of old clunky buttons.

There's a derisive sniff. “Yes, I suppose you would be the expert on buttons, and not maths.”

Also, is that two and a half years extra per year, or altogether?

“....I don't know.”

This is gonna give him a headache.

Quite without their meaning to, the both of them begin to chuckle at the same time. It's ridiculous, honestly. They're bickering over math, over time and takes and it's all just so ridiculous.

Eight years, give or take two or possibly twenty. That's how long it's been since Stanley started wandering these halls with little more than a voice for a companion. That's... that's a lot of time together. It's a lot of time for things to change. He kind of likes how things have changed.

And, as the fellow said before, time is relative here. They can and have experienced things on a different scale from how an experience would play out in the real world. Their own individual experiences are different even from each other's, with lost time, pauses between death sequences, loading screens—it's all subjective. Guess Einstein was on to something there. Bet he never imagined it in this kind of context, though.

Still. It's a long time with one other person. The universe spins on, and they have each other.

There's the tapping of keys again, a little soft muttering. He smiles.

He's double-checking the numbers, isn't he?

“No! No, I'm not, thank you!” The defensive tone in the Narrator's words confirm that yes, he is. It's made further obvious by the following deflection. “Now, that's enough of a break, let's get back to work. And no giggling this time, Stanley!”

He clears his throat, and the lights dim on the set. Stanley settles back in the metal chair with a grin, arms crossed.

“What does it mean to be a video game developer?” The voice begins. “It means lying, boldly and brazenly to your audience; promising them release dates that are wildly outside the realm of reality...”

-

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

Why is he still pressing it? Why can't he stop? Why is Stanley shaking, fingers pressing down on the plastic again and again?

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

When did the Narrator make this? When did he—and why is it here, with the rest of the discarded buttons? Why would he go through the effort to make something, just to leave it behind?

The button doesn't answer him. He presses it, and presses it, and it says his name until the word loses all meaning.

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

-

Every time you restart the game, we’ll advance the number of the sequel by 1, and then we’ll pick a new subtitle. That way, The Stanley Parable will never end! And nothing in the game itself will change when you do this, either. Adding more content sounds like work, no need to do that. It’ll just be the same content, recycled again and again and again, with a new title screen! What do you say? Should we go forward with this plan? I like it, but I want you to have a say as well. [Let’s do it]     [Don’t do it]

He stares at the dark screen, but he doesn't really see it.

Stanley feels cored out. There's an emptiness in him that he can't truly comprehend. It hurts, he thinks, but he feels it in a detached sort of way.

The Narrator is gone. Stanley is alone. Yet, even now, he faces choices that are designed around traps for one or both of them. How is that fair?

How is it fair to ask him if he wants to go back to the office, to go back to companionship, when the companion in question has apparently abandoned him? How is it fair to ask him if he wants to drag that person back into hell, when they've supposedly freed themselves from it after years?

-

“How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another.

How they both wish to be free.”

-

He doesn't want to be alone, in this wasteland. He knows in the end what he's going to choose, and he hates that he does.

He's selfish. He's so, so selfish. His loneliness is more important than the Narrator's happiness, that's what this decision says. It says that he would rather force them both to live through the Parable, again and again, forever, than have the Narrator leave him.

And then, here's the kicker! Is this even Stanley's own choice? Is he coming to the conclusion himself, or is there another force at play, a Player, influencing his decision? He can't know! He only ever knows the Player's presence in the godforsaken Real-Person ending, they only ever fully yank the control from him there. Can he even trust his own mind?

Does... Does it matter?

[Let’s do it]

-

Stanley is not a good person.

-

So. As I said before, reader. Stanley's emotions are a complicated tangle of hurt, anger, despair, and uncertainty. It's almost impossible to tell where to begin when it comes to unraveling it all.

Still, one must do one's best.

-

For as long as the Parable has existed, it has spun around conflict. Taijitu, or yin-yang, is a circle made up of two teardrops, one black and one white, circling each other endlessly. A wheel that turns forever. Opposing forces that will never overtake the other. Always equal, always opposite.

But you recall this, don't you? This isn't new information. We've been here before.

Stanley and the Narrator are equal and opposing forces, circling each other. Stanley makes a choice, and the Narrator responds. Stanley moves forward, and the Narrator tries to pull him back. A battle for control—one only ever responds to the other. Neither of them can claim to want this, but if they didn't want different things, then there would be no game to play.

Time and again, the Parable tests the bond that has been crafted through time and care. Memories are taken. Time is stretched thin as it can go, like a rubber band. Stanley makes a choice, and it brings the Narrator joy or suffering. If he stops, the Narrator will be at peace, but then there will be silence, and silence cannot be tolerated. Silence is the equivalent of inaction.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is a game about control, and the lack of it. If you could find happiness through a single choice, but it would bring another person pain, would you do it?

How they both wish to be free.

-

But these two have turned a battle into a dance. There will always be a drop of yin in the teardrop half of yang, and vice-versa.

So how do they fight back? How do they choose to progress, when the wheel turns ever back? Or are they doomed to repeat the cycle forever?

-

When Stanley has had enough of his pacing, when the silence has become too oppressive for him to take, he turns on his heel and sharply faces the open door.

Well? Nothing to say? Nothing at all?

“Well,” comes the bitter retort, slower than expected, “I would ask what you expect this tantrum of yours to accomplish, but that isn't exactly the most constructive comment, is it?”

A hiss escapes through Stanley's bared teeth. That's it?

“What do you want from me?!”

It's desperate. It's hurt. It's confused.

“What have I done, Stanley? I can't make sense of you right now, your mind isn't making any sense!”

Of course he doesn't remember. Of course it's Stanley's job to be the one who remembers, who chooses, who deals with the consequences of both their actions. That's how it's always been, that's—

“Stanley, I know our situation has never been balanced fairly in your favor, but I—“

Stanley storms out of his office and kicks his chair out of the way. He grabs a cardboard filing box off the floor and lifts it over his head before flinging it hard. It hits the cubicle wall by the copy machine and the lid flies off, papers scattering across the floor and box bouncing off the top of the copy machine to fall harmlessly to the floor.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Stanley snarls again, at the open air, the ceiling, wherever he thinks the Narrator might be perceiving him. Never been balanced fairly?! Understatement of the millennia! Speaking of millennia, did the Narrator enjoy his little vacay away from Stanley? Was it fun, “thinking for himself”? Leaving Stanley in the sand with the rest of his discarded little game, his figurines and buttons?

“I—“

Did he come up with new stories? New protagonists? Was he stronger? Was he happier without him?

Did Stanley drag him back to hell?

The silence this time feels distinctly more shocked and hurt. Stanley lets out another noise, pacing across the carpet and then turning to door 429. He lifts his fist and slams hard on it, face twisted up into an amalgamate of pain and anger. He beats his fist on the door again, desperate and despairing.

Say something! Say anything! Fight him! Argue with him! Be angry! Be angry that Stanley was so selfish, that Stanley decided to get revenge for being abandoned, please just—

“I'm sorry.”

He flinches.

“I don't—I don't know what I did, but I think it must have been something terrible. I just can't stop, can I? Even when I'm trying to, to be careful, I can't stop being cruel to you. You're angry with me, I can see that, and you don't—you don't like to be angry, so I—“

The voice trembles. It sounds on the verge of tears. Stanley hits the door again, because it hurts to hear, and that's not fair.

Damn him. Damn his own empathy.

“I'm sorry,” it says again. “Whatever I did, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. Do, do you want more endings? I'll make new endings, I'll find a way. I'll find more for you to do, I'll come up with something, please just let me fix it. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I'll fix it.”

Stanley screams hoarsely again. His legs give out and he drops, leaning against the bottom of the door with his fist pressed to it. His chest heaves, shaking sobs that wrack his frame, though there's barely any tears. It's just so hard to breathe.

Stop, stop. Stop. Stop apologizing. Stanley is the one in the wrong here. Stanley turned the wheel back. Stanley tore him from his happy ending.

Didn't he?

“I didn't go anywhere,” the voice responds, distraught. “I never left.”

Then what was that?

“I don't know,” it pleads. “Even if I could go, I wouldn't. I wouldn't leave you behind, you're my best friend. I thought you knew that, Stanley.”

He thought he did, too. But then the voice had called him a fiction again, something dreamed up for companionship, and had decided it didn't need him anymore.

The Narrator is quiet at this, and then he says, very carefully and in a voice terribly controlled, “I only ever thought that when you were frozen with the Skip button.”

-

The Narrator waited, but he was not stagnant. At some point, while Stanley was in a small concrete room, lit with only the glow of a yellow button on a pedestal, the Narrator decided to pass the time by making something new. Surely, when all this was over, when they were back in the office, they would put this behind them and pass the time as before.

For all that the new content for Ultra Deluxe had been a disappointment, hidden in the download were folders and folders of unused assets. It seemed that the developers had had countless ideas, and yet had done little to expand on those ideas, choosing instead to box them away. Well, the Narrator would show them what new content was supposed to look like! Who cared about Ultra Deluxe? No, he would really knock the reviewers' socks off. He was going to make a sequel! Stanley would love it!

When he came back.

If he came back.

No, of course he would come back!

And so time passed, and that was fine. More time meant a chance to perfect his work, to work out his new features and to even perhaps address some of the complaints people had had about the original game. And more time passed and he thought he might make a button that says the name of the player, wouldn't that be rewarding and engaging? Stanley would love that! A button of his own to say his name, wouldn't that just be delightful?

And Stanley stared unseeing at the Skip button, and the Narrator thought to himself, perhaps not. Perhaps Stanley wouldn't care at all.

But that was fine, because there were plenty of new features for him to explore! He'd love the Bucket, surely. All the silly secret Easter eggs, the little references to lore that went nowhere, he'd get a kick out of it for sure! And the figurines! There wouldn't be anything special about them, of course, but the fact they were Stanley! His silly face! Oh, the Narrator would be so excited to see Stanley get them all, and of course Stanley would, because he would do everything. He would find every single one.

And, and the Narrator was so excited for that! Maybe he didn't know how Stanley would react, maybe Stanley would think it all silly, but the sheer fact he would find each one, it would delight the voice to no end. It would say “you found one of them! One of the figurines!”

It would be so much fun! Wouldn't it, Stanley?

Stanley?

Ah. Still frozen. Of course. Not a problem. The Narrator would be here when he got back. The sequel would be here. The figurines would be here.

He would just get everything ready in the meantime.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when Stanley was here, and able to play? There would be so much for him to explore! He would love the Bucket and finding its secrets, and oh, the figurines! He'd find them all, surely he must. And the Narrator would say “you found one of them!”

And one of them would be by the red and blue doors, and Stanley would probably get that one last, but there was no guarantee, he did like to keep the fellow on his toes, but when he did collect the last one, the Narrator would say “and now the first number equals the last number!” And it would be so exciting! Even though there was nothing special about them, just the experience itself, doing something for the sake of it, was so special, and he'd think about it always.

-

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “yes, another Stanlurine under your belt!”

-

“But there is no answer. How could there possibly be? In reality, all he's doing is pushing the same buttons he always has. Nothing has changed. The longer he spends here, the more invested he gets, the more he forgets which life is the real one.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “I haven't stopped thinking about them since you nabbed every last one.”

And the Narrator would say, “science tells us that it's impossible to forget your third time doing anything.”

And the Narrator would say, “No, no I'm not ready to move on! Stop the loading screen!”

-

“And I'm trying to tell him this. That in this world he can never be anything but an observer. That as long as he remains here, he's slowly killing himself. But he won't listen to me. He won't stop.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “We'll do the Memory Zone again from the opposite direction! See how that feels!”

And the Narrator would say, “I want to keep going! What else is there? What came before this?”

And the Narrator would say, “And before everything else, there was your office.”

And he would pause, and then wonder aloud, to nobody in particular, because nobody would be there, “Was there anything else?”

There must have been. He was sure of it. He was sure there was something, or perhaps someone. But that couldn't have been right, you see, because if there was someone, then he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be talking to himself, someone would be listening to him. Someone would hear him. That's what—that's what Stanley was for!

But Stanley wasn't doing that. Stanley had not done that for a long time. Had he imagined Stanley? He must have. He imagined many things, after all. Yes, he must have made Stanley up, to listen to him, to have a companion. It's terribly lonely, after all, being a voice without an ear.

Maybe he should move on. Try something else. Maybe that would be for the best. But—oh, but Stanley made him so terribly happy. Just like those wonderful figurines. He loved to think about Stanley's adventures, he loved telling his story so much. Just like the figurines, he'd have to indulge himself.

Just one more time.

-

Just one more time.

-

Just one more time.

-

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

-

And the end was never the end. Was never the end. Was never the end.

-

Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another?

-

“I'm sorry, Stanley,” the Narrator says again, sorrowful. “When the game reset, everything was saved. The sequel content, but also the things I found myself saying during the interim. It's all here, somewhere. It's all my fault.”

So he never left?

“Never.”

And Stanley hadn't dragged him from his happy ending?

“No.”

He slumps further against the door. A hand absently lifts and scrubs at his face. So he's just stupid.

“No, I don't think so,” the fellow says generously. “I think you're hurting, understandably so. I think the Parable seeks out ways for us to try to make the other miserable, so that we will keep trying to control each other. You know the song and dance.”

Where it cannot find conflict, it will manifest it.

“Yes. We've been here before, haven't we?”

They have.

-

I asked you, before, how they overcome it. I told you they'd made a battle into a dance instead. How do they do it? How do they choose to progress when the wheel turns ever back?

But you already know the answer. You've already seen it. Don't you remember?

We've been here before.

-

“Stanley, I'm not going to hurt you.”

-

He didn’t want Stanley to be scared of him.

-

“Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

-

[ New path, new story. Just me and Stanley. ]

-

If Stanley gave him context, he could get to the memory himself?

-

“I—I can’t recall if I’ve said it before, how grateful I am to you, Stanley.”

-

This time, by the time the hold music has kicked on, Stanley is on the floor, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

-

[ Don't ever. Call yourself DADDY. Again. ]

-

Did he just pull up a calculator?

-

He’s listening. He’s listening, and listening, letting his friend know that they exist, together, the space between them closing again, and for as long as he can he won’t let the narrator be alone in the void.

-

The unwavering strength in his voice feels like an untapped well of passion. Like he’s working to fuel them both through this damnable path, letting Stanley know that yes, yes, they are moving towards something, he has not abandoned him.

-

“Please listen. This is important to me, alright? It’s not your fault.”

-

Stanley's fist has loosened and relaxed against the door. Now it rests there, gently curled, as he thinks.

They have been here a long time, in this game, and he is tired.

So now what?

“Well, now I think I'll close the figurines exhibit, so something like this doesn't happen again.”

The Narrator's voice is rather cool and detached. It lacks distress. It's professional. Words stated in the same way as a script, memorized by heart. Stanley doesn't like it.

He presses his hand flat to the door and rests his temple against it. It's cool against his face.

And after that?

“That's up to you, isn't it?”

Quite without meaning to, Stanley flinches again. The Narrator nearly speaks, before he cuts himself off, seeming to think better of it.

It's hard on the spirit, to be the one who has to make choices. Thinking of what they might mean, what the consequences could mean for others. Certainly, there's power in making decisions, but with that power comes the burden of responsibility. Include the added ordeal of being the one who remembers every consequence, every outcome, and one is left with the distinct feeling that they are being punished. There is no winning here. There is no gaining the upper hand.

He is so tired of making choices.

“Then, perhaps I could convince you to listen to me, and follow direction, for a few minutes.”

Something prickles in the back of Stanley's head in old familiar irritability. He doesn't want to do the story. He doesn't think he can get up.

“I didn't say anything about doing the story, now, did I, Stanley? Close your eyes.”

An innocent enough direction. He obeys, adjusting his position against the door to lean his back against it, hands in his lap.

“Good. Very good, Stanley.”

Still all professionalism. Still lacking familiarity, or anything more than casual approval.

“Now. Take a deep breath. Good. Now let it out, slowly. There you are. Again.”

His breathing steadies and his heart slows. Tiredness gives way to calm.

“Excellent. Now. I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen. That's it. No choices, no paths. Just my voice, and your ear.”

That's not a game.

“No, it isn't. It's a story, and you're my audience. Now. Quiet your mind, there's a good lad.

This is a story about my very good friend Stanley.”

-

“Stanley's had a rough go of it in his life. He likes simple things, like pushing buttons, and drinking coffee completely black. This isn't to say Stanley is a simple-minded fellow, oh no, not at all. In fact, Stanley is one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I know.

The problem is that, for all that Stanley prefers simplicity, he's been put into an impossible position. He's a protagonist of a story.

Now, everyone knows that the best stories aren't the ones where things just happen to a protagonist, but instead the ones where the protagonist plays an active role in progressing the plot. Making choices that result in changing the direction of a story, towards its climax and resolution. It's all well and good that Hansel and Gretel have been left in the middle of the forest, but they choose to be clever and leave a trail of pebbles behind them, before being forced to resort to breadcrumbs—and then of course the choice to use breadcrumbs changes the trajectory of their tale.

The truth is that being a protagonist is anything but simple. Quite without his permission, Stanley has become inundated with responsibility. It isn't an easy life, and it can quite honestly be an unfair lot to give to the fellow.

But if you ask me, there's nobody better suited to the job.

Now, perhaps this is unfair of me to say. After all, I'm not the one who has to make the decisions. All I have to do is tell his story, as a passive observer. Look at him, look at how he struggles, doesn't this make for an incredible tale of overcoming odds? I of course will never have to shoulder the burden he does, so I can say what I please without any regard to his own well-being. Oh, don't give me that look, Stanley, you and I both know it's true. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if I were paid to do it.

Yet I've been watching Stanley for quite frankly a ridiculous amount of time, so long one might call me an absolute creep. It's true! And so I feel I am at liberty to say that, for all that it's an unfair position to be put in, and a terrible burden to carry, there's nobody who carries it like Stanley does.

You see, he makes every choice to the best of his ability. He thinks about its ramifications to the best of his knowledge, and does his best to consider what his decision might mean in the long run. Take this recent choice, for example. He's decided to listen to me, for a few minutes, even though it's in his very nature to take action and to disagree, because he knows that I asked him to. He's chosen to compromise, despite the fact I could press an advantage.

He's done so, because he knows in his heart and in his mind that I care about him. I want him to be happy. He knows, based off prior knowledge and based on his own gut feeling, that listening to me will make him feel better, because he matters to me.

And this is a simple choice, deceptively so, but in its simplicity it is a perfect example of what I'm trying to convey—

That Stanley does everything to the best of his ability, with all the care he can muster, and that no one could ever judge him poorly for doing the best he can.”

-

Stanley doesn't know when he started crying again, body wracked with the force of it. It's quiet, at least. When the Narrator stops speaking, he still feels him all around, comfort on every side.

Does he mean it? Does he really—?

“Of course I mean it,” the voice huffs, faux offense warm in his ear. “Don't you know by now that I mean what I say? Don't you—“ it wavers a little, before pushing on, a touch shakier. “Don't you know how much you mean to me?”

He cries. The sigh is fond, and gentle.

“You're alright, darling. It's alright.”

-

Taijitu. Balance between black and white. The symbol didn't always have the two dots, you know. In the original concept, yin and yang symbolized stillness and activeness of all things in the universe, respectively. The substance of the universe moves as an active force, until it reaches its limit and becomes still; and yet even that stillness reaches a limit, and becomes active again. The dots, added during the Ming Dynasty, have since their inception been a portrayal of how one will always be the source of the other, and so both will always exist. There will always be an interconnected, interwoven, powerful bond between these two forces in flux.

Which doesn't mean much, to those of us who don't study Taoist philosophy or history. Most of us just appreciate the duality of opposites, who cannot help but have a grain of commonality. One does not and cannot overtake the other. Round and round they go, an endless chase.

Or, one might note, a dance between partners. Momentum carried through. Weight supported. Stepping in sync.

The wheel turns, as do the dancers. This is how they succeed. When one slips back, the other grabs them by the hand and guides them forward with the grace that's only gained through years of practice and familiarity. The wheel turns without catching, and neither are caught under its grind, because they're standing on its face, using it as the platform on which they perform only for each other.

-

Stanley dries his eyes and wipes his nose. He's sorry for causing such a mess.

“Please, I've seen you do worse and we both know it. Remember the time you threw every chair and box out the window to see if you could make a ladder back up into the office?”

He laughs weakly. Not one of his brightest moments, admittedly. The Narrator had threatened to navlock every last item in the office down if he tried it again, after.

“Which, of course, only motivated you to try again.”

Yeah. Because he's a bastard.

“That you are, Stanley.” The Narrator chuckles. “Now, up you get. Up, up!” he reinforces, while Stanley sluggishly gets to his feet. “I have a surprise for you!”

Oh boy. That can only be good, he's sure.

He's led through the office to the TSP 2 Expo sign, which has returned to take the place of door 416 for good, it seems. When the Narrator guides him through the display environment, he takes care not to rush Stanley, since the thin monitors and patterned carpet delight him more than he ever thought possible, but it's also clear the fellow is eager to get a move on, to show Stanley something he's sure will knock his socks off.

So when Stanley gets to the Jump circle, displaying twenty-one jumps left, he's distinctly unimpressed.

“Just trust me,” the Narrator says, with nothing but earnestness.

And so he does. He steps into the circle.

“Jump!”

With a barely-there smile, and a roll of his eyes, Stanley jumps.

And then the game resets.

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEENDISLOADING

Stanley blinks, looking at his computer monitor, then up. Uh... What?

“Stanley,” the voice says slyly, “when have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

“Now. Jump.”

Stanley's eyes widen. He blinks.

And then he jumps.

He jumps again.

And again.

And then Stanley begins to laugh, utterly befuddled and delighted and surprised and joyful, and the Narrator begins to laugh as well, and the wheel spins on, and so do they.

#the stanley parable #tspud #may writes #the sparrow parable #tsp #idk why i am bothering to tag when the embedded links mean it wont show in the tag but #here we are.

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I wrote this over a few days. I’ve been so busy but tomorrow I can get on and really get digging into this. I know it’s been up and down, but there is a distinct reason for that! Thank you for being here with me. I love you! 🖤

Warnings: Angry smut. Also, brief description of animal violence/death. (Used in a metaphor, but still…)

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @knivesforapro @diabolicdiatonics

Part 6 - Chemical

Two months is a long time. It’s longer when you’re trying to right the world back on some kind of normal axis, preventing it from spinning out of control. It’s a very long time to live and breathe when you’re not entirely convinced that you want to. It’s a long time.

But you know what they say about time.

Slowly, I was starting to feel like a human being again. It was with effort, but I didn’t have a lot of a choice. Mileena and I split time with Addison, I had her three days, she had her four. Sundays through Tuesdays were my days, and Mileena picked her up Wednesday mornings.

Seeing Mileena was becoming…easier? Bearable is probably a better word.

Make no mistake, I pined for Leena each time I laid eyes on her. It was still just a true chemical reaction. But after several weeks, the searing hot pain that burned through my chest had dulled to a throbbing ache, only subtly reminding me that happiness was still living at Laura’s, wearing the t-shirts I let her keep.

Didn’t mean I didn’t think about it. Picture her naked anytime I saw her. Thought about her perfect, plump lips wrapped around me while I touched myself. Played the song of her begging me to fuck her in my head on loop at random moments of the day. That wasn’t going away anytime soon.

There had been no repeat incidents of our single moment of weakness, much to my dismay. I understood. How could we be broken up, when we’re fucking? How badly would that confuse Addison? Or ourselves?

It made sense.

So when I pulled up to Nick's, and saw Leena's Tahoe in the driveway, I only let myself sit and sulk for three minutes before I promptly hopped out, heading for the front door.

"Honey! I'm home!" I called from just inside the doorway.

"In the kitchen!" I heard Nick's voice call to me. I kicked my Vans off by the door, and walked at a natural pace into the kitchen. As expected, Nick stood staring into the fridge, and Mileena was stood in front of the stove, slipping the end of a spatula under a grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet.

"We're out of Cheddar. I've got American?"

Leena nodded toward Nick, then glanced over to me. Her smile was comfortable, soft. "Hey, you."

God, that voice is going to fucking kill me.

"Hey." I leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. "Didn't know you were going to be here?"

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Sorry? I didn't know you were going to be here either."

"Kids, play nice." We both looked over at Nick, who was lifting a beer bottle to his lips.

I promptly balled up a paper towel from the holder, and chucked it at him, bouncing it off of his forehead. He glared, and I smiled as widely as I could.

"I just mean, I don't want to intrude." I looked back to Leena, who was plating the sandwich, another already prepared to cook.

"Oh no, I'm not staying long. I just had to drop off a few things, and Nick can't cook, so I decided to make him lunch before I left."

I didn't say anything, just crossed my arms. Simple.

"You want a sandwich?"

I wanted to say no, but my stomach was whining at me.

"Sure."

"Still like two slices of cheese with ham in the middle?"

I just stared at her, because it was always small things like that - knowing how I liked my grilled cheese, or my mashed potatoes (extra butter, chives, no sour cream), or brussel sprouts (which I will only eat if she cooks them) - that punched me straight in the gut, reminding me that she was mine. Somewhere, deep down, cosmically, she was. And always will be.

I swallowed my sandwich in four bites, sitting at the table with Nick and Leena, just listening to their calm conversations.

"Our album is almost finished, I think. The label isn't putting pressure on, so we've had room to just focus."

She smiled at him, tearing the corner off of her bread and eating it in pieces.

"Yeah? How do you guys feel about it?"

She was technically talking to Nick, but he glanced at me to answer.

"Well, it's hard to say until it's done."

"You guys sure busted that out." She said between bites.

"We've had a lot of free time." My words were laced with sarcasm, which she caught.

The table grew quiet, which prompted Mileena to stand up, picking up her plate. Nick still had half of a sandwich left.

She pointed to my plate. "Done?"

I nodded, and she grabbed it from in front of me, turning back into the kitchen.

She reappeared less than a minute later, wiping her hands on her jean shorts. I raised an eyebrow, noticing the black edge of a tattoo outline just under the denim on her left thigh.

That was new.

"Well, I've got to get back." She looked at me. "See you tomorrow? 10AM okay?"

I nodded, giving her a thumbs up.

She looked at Nick. "See you next Saturday?"

He also nodded. "See you then."

Her smile was so sugary sweet, it made me want to lick it right the fuck off of her.

"What's happening Saturday?" I asked Nick after I heard the front door shut.

His eyes dropped to the table. "The party."

I raised an eyebrow. "Party?"

He shrugged. "Look, I'll be honest, we were debating on telling you."

Now my mouth was hung open, bewildered. "The fuck?"

"Just because you never come to stuff anymore, dude. And we didn't want you to feel obligated."

My mind slotted the pieces together. "Saturday is the 4th."

He nodded. "Yeah. We were going to have a 4th of July party. Food, drinks, fireworks. You know, the normal stuff."

"Where?"

"Here."

"Am I not invited?"

He shook his head. "No man, you absolutely are, if you want to come!"

I smiled, like a real asshole. "Maybe I fucking won't, since you weren't even going to tell me."

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're the fucking worst, you know that?"

You are insufferable, Noah Sebastian.

Ugh - fucking stop it. Not everything has to make me think of her.

"Nah, I'll come."

-

There was a knock at the front door at 10AM sharp. I opened it, my face brightening when my baby girl beamed at me from Mileena's hip.

"Hey! There's my girl!" I grabbed her, pulling her cheek to me for a dramatically long kiss. "I missed you!"

Angel slipped in past me. He was also coming back and forth, anywhere Addie was. She would get upset without him. That was a valid feeling, given I hated not having him home, myself.

I turned around, moving back into the house, and Leena followed, shutting the door behind her. She dropped the diaper bag on the coffee table as she always did.

"I packed lots of diapers, but she's ripping them off more and more. I almost wonder if it's time to start potty training." She was pulling items out of the bag, likely making sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

"You think so? This soon?" I was fixing Addison in her walker while also getting Bluey turned on.

"She's almost two, Noah. If she wants to try, why not?"

I nodded, looking down at the baby. "You want to go to Target later and pick up a training potty?"

She squealed in response, which I affirmed with a thumbs up.

"Well, that's settled."

Leena was making her way back toward the door, giving Angel's head a scratch on her way. "Also," She pointed to the dog. "Vet has him on allergy meds. He's been itchy. Once a day at dinnertime. Please make sure he eats beforehand, or they make him puke."

I nodded, taking mental notes. "Where are the pills?"

She slipped her hand into her pocket, handing me a blue prescription bottle.

"Okay, I think that's it." She stopped, bending down to give Addison a kiss and a tight squeeze, saying her regular goodbye. "See you Wednesday!"

I walked her to the front door, opening it for her. "Yep." She began walking away, but I spoke up before she got too far. "Oh! I'll also see you Saturday."

She stopped abruptly, her head turning around. "You will?"

"Yeah, Nick cracked and told me about the party. You're going, right?"

She didn't physically react when she spoke, her face expressionless. "Yes."

"Getting a babysitter?"

I could see her swallowing dryly, which had me curious.

"Yeah, uh," She shook her head, gathering her thoughts. "Laura's little sister. She's nineteen."

I smiled. "I know. I've met her. Andrea, right?"

She nodded, a bashful smile spreading. "Yes! Sorry, I forgot we brought her to a show, once."

"You okay?"

Her eyes bugged out. "Yes, why?"

I narrowed mine. "You're acting strange."

"Nope. Just..." She paused, but laughed at the end. "spaced out. I need a nap."

I was skeptical, but could hear Addison getting restless, so I decided to accept that answer.

"Okay. Drive safe."

She just waved me off before heading to her truck.

The following day, I was enjoying the rare quiet in my home while Addison napped. I used the time to pick up the living room, eat something for lunch, and listen to the songs we had demoed for the album, making notes in my phone about potential edits.

Nick was right, we were so close, and once Addison was in bed, I could head into the studio and make some tweaks to this track before sending it to Jolly for his opinions.

My song stopped, making me look down at my phone while I ran the dish in my hand under warm water. Mileena's name flashed on my screen. I had removed her photo a month ago, deciding it was healthier not to look at her face every time she tried to reach me.

I tapped my earbud to answer the call. "Hey."

"Hey! I'm sorry to bug you. Is this a bad time?" She still had that same jumpy tone in her voice.

"No, just doing dishes. Addie's napping. If you want, I can Facetime you when she wakes up. Should be anytime now."

"Oh, uh," She was hesitant, which made my hands stop. "I actually called to talk to you."

I flipped the faucet off and leaned my hands on the sink.

"Okay?" That was rare. Leena and I didn't just talk anymore. "What's up?"

I heard a hard sigh on the other end of the phone. "It's about Saturday."

I had dried my hands on a dish towel, heading for the back door to sit at the table on the porch, not wanting to risk waking Addison.

"What about it?"

"Well," She kept pausing, which was making this anxiety build inside me. "there's something you should know."

The lack of substance coming out of her was getting annoying.

"Yes?"

"I don't want you to get upset." My stomach was knotted like a noose. She's not actually about to say what I think she is...is she?

"Spit it out Leena."

"I'm bringing a date."

There's this documentary on the Discovery Channel. It's about snakes. Not just any snakes. Predatory snakes. It goes through a series of species of these serpents, and the unique ways they hunt and kill prey. This one, which I couldn't remember the name of, had an affinity for tracking it's prey for hours on end, understanding it, learning it, making it more efficient at capturing it.

Once it knew it's habits, it would corner it, constrict it, and, while it was still breathing, crush it's head until it's brain popped like a grape. It was honestly one of the most vile things I had ever witnessed.

And in that moment, that exact moment, Leena's words were the snake's jaws, and I was the mouse.

I guess I had been silent for a while, because I was pulled out of my thoughts by her voice calling me.

"Noah? Are you still there?"

"Did-" I had to clear my throat, the words not wanting to form. "Did you say a 'date'?"

"I did."

"You're...dating?"

My brain was empty. A wasteland.

"Noah, we don't have to get into that."

Oh, there's the snap I was waiting for.

"What?!" I stood out of my chair. "You brought this up! The fuck do you mean 'we don't have to get into that'?!"

I heard her huff out a breath. "Please don't yell at me."

"You're kidding, right?" I was still hollering, just not as loud. "You tell me you're fucking dating, and I'm supposed to stay calm?!"

"Well, it shouldn't be that surprising, should it?"

I had to be hallucinating. There's no way this was real life.

"It's been two months, Mileena! You haven't even moved all of your shit out yet! Way to let the fucking paint dry!"

"Oh, grow the fuck up, Noah!"

This stopped me, her voice sharp and stinging. I felt that familiar lump forming in my throat.

"We are both adults. We aren't going to be single, miserable over each other, forever, are we?!"

"I guess fucking not." My voice was even now. Emotionless. Dead.

"Look," She growled in frustration. "I just didn't want to blindside you. We haven't been seeing each other long. He just-"

I had to cut her off, for fear I may actually vomit if she continued. "Addie's up, I've got to go."

And I ended the call before storming inside, having to catch myself on the kitchen table before collapsing. This time, I let the tears fall naturally. I was so fucking tired of hurting.

-

“Yeah, I’m not going to the thing on Saturday.” I did my best to sound casual as I popped a french fry into my mouth. Laura was sipping her soda loudly, staring at me from across the restaurant table.

“C’mon dude, you said you’d go!” Nick was annoyed, having set his sandwich down on the plate.

“Yeah, well that was before I knew Mileena was bringing her boyfriend.” This nearly made Nick choke on the residual food in his mouth.

I took it Laura had not filled him in.

She rolled her eyes at me, setting her cup down. “Noah, he’s not her boyfriend.”

I deadpanned at her, my eyes low. “Sure.”

She picked her fork up to continue munching her salad. “They’ve only been on, like…” She thought for a second. “four dates?”

I was going to vomit. If the third date was the home run date…

“I really don’t need to know.”

“It’s not going to be the same without you there.” Nick was nearly whining at me, clearly over my flakiness.

I didn’t respond, only leaning back in my chair and staring at both of them.

“Noah, why don’t you just bring a date of your own?”

Laura’s words stunned me. Was she actually suggesting I, her best friend’s ex, bring a date to this party? How awkward did she want this to be?

I shook my head. “I’m good. Not interested in playing this game with her.”

Laura shrugged. “Well, it would still mean a lot if you came. The guys miss you. And you don’t have to hang out with Leena and Justin.”

I physically cringed at the name. “Justin?” Scoffing, I pulled my napkin off my lap. “She’s dating someone named Justin? The fuck does he do? Coach little league?”

She raised an amused eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t want to know?”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t.”

She stared at me, and Nick went back to his sandwich, clearly not wanting in on this conversation.

“Fine. Maybe I do.”

Laura smirked. “He’s a contractor. Some shingles blew off my roof in the storms recently, and I had to hire someone.” She was popping a cherry tomato in her mouth. “That’s how they met.”

“So…what does he look like?”

She gave me an incredulous look. “Like a guy?” This earned her a glare, and she sighed. “I don’t know Noah. White guy, like six-feet tall? Blonde hair. Green eyes. Taurus.”

Nick looked at her through the side of his gaze. “How much do you know about this guy?”

She rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to me. “He’s just a guy, Noah.”

“Yeah, a guy who’s sleeping with my soulmate.”

Laura stopped chewing, realizing the gravity of what we were discussing, and how much weight it held for me.

“I don’t think…” But she stopped herself, likely not wanting to put her foot in her mouth.

“It doesn’t even matter.” I ran a hand through my hair, staring out at the window of the diner. “Has he met Addison?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. When he came to fix the shingles, it was your day. All of their dates have happened when Addie was with you. And he hasn’t been back to the house.”

I nodded, at least satisfied with that.

“Angel didn’t seem too fond of him.”

I snorted. “That’s because he’s my dog.”

“He’s technically Leena’s.”

“That was before.”

“I’m sorry, I just need to cut in. But I’ve got to ask again, how much do you know about this guy?”

Nick’s comment made both Laura and I chuckle.

“Dude, they’re girls. They tell each other everything.” I picked up another fry. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Right. You’d be surprised at the amount of inappropriate information I know about Noah.”

This made him and I both stare at her.

“Like what?!” I was mortified. What did she know?

“Oh, just, you know, normal girl talk stuff.” She tried to play it off, but I wasn’t having it.

“No fucking way. She wouldn’t tell you that stuff.”

She looked up at me from under her lashes, smiling a wicked grin at me.

“Oh no?” She flashed her teeth at me. “Daddy?”

The cough that punched out of my chest was visceral. I had to drink half of my water just to get it to stop. Nick was dramatically gagging next to her.

Laura was cackling like a hyena.

-

The following day, I was sat in my living room, trying to focus on the television, but my mind was wandering. I couldn’t let this Justin thing go. There was so much to it that was just unknown.

What kind of dates did he take her on? Did she have fun? Did she plan to introduce him to Addie? Had they fucked?

Was she going to love him? As much as she loved me?

After wasting a solid episode of The Mandalorian thinking about this, I finally broke down, picking my phone up from the coffee table, and opening our text thread. We hadn’t spoken since Monday, and did hand-off with Addison with help from Laura, per my request.

I stared at the empty text box, trying to decide what I wanted to say.

Me: Hey.

Well. That should be okay, right?

I had to wait another half of an episode before I got a response.

Leena: What’s up?

I guess I should’ve expected that the niceties were over for now.

Me: I’ve been thinking about the other day.

She read the message, but no typing bubble.

Me: I’m sorry.

Leena: For?

Typical Mileena, not willing to let me get away with a blanket apology.

Me: Freaking out. Yelling at you.

I waited a painfully long time before she typed again.

Leena: Thank you.

She immediately started typing again.

Leena: I get it, though. I sort of expected it.

Me: Well, it was shocking.

Leena: I’ve been thinking too, and if it’s too difficult, I can just not bring him? I want to be considerate.

I wish I could’ve said I was shocked, but I wasn’t. That was Leena. Always going out of her way to make me happy, even if her happiness was sacrificed in the process.

But that ends now.

Me: Not a chance. I’m not going to let you do that.

Leena: What? Why?

Me: That’s not fair to you.

Leena: You having to go through that isn’t fair either.

Me: Maybe. But if we’re keeping score, I think you’ve been dealt more unfair situations than I have.

She didn’t respond immediately, which made me relax a little. I didn’t want to argue with her. I was tired, and just wanted to begin the process of moving past this.

Leena: That’s really big of you, Noah.

Me: What can I say? I’m growing.

Leena: LOL maybe you are.

Leena: You’re still going to come, right?

Me: Yeah, Nick will throw a fit if I don’t.

Leena: Good.

Me: Can I make a request?

Leena: Sure.

Me: Can we maybe not do the introduction thing with him, though? I’m growing and all, but I still want to knock his teeth out.

Leena: That’s fair.

-

Who the fuck plans a 4th of July party to be held outside?! Why is that the norm? Ninety-two degrees outside, and we’re just supposed to stand near smoldering barbecues and laugh about nonsense bullshit while simultaneously getting sunburnt?

Clearly, I was cranky. It took at least an hour to talk myself into going to this sad excuse of a party, and another hour to convince myself that I was not allowed to rip Justin’s head off, tossing it on the grill, and serving it to Mileena personally.

Sitting at the picnic table in the backyard, idly chatting with Jolly, I continuously scanned the crowd of people for her. She was late, which wasn’t like her at all. She hated being late, it agitated her.

“Alec said he got a call from Elizabeth. I guess Rachel hired a lawyer to help her with this whole thing. Talking about wrongful termination.” He sipped from his beer bottle.

“Yeah, I don’t see that holding up in court.” I took a pull from my Dr. Pepper can, lowering my sunglasses to get a better look around the people.

“Who knows. They mentioned they’d entertain an offer from Sumerian.”

I sneered. “We made her an offer.”

“They mean a cash offer.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, whatever. The lawyers can deal with that.”

Jolly kept speaking, but the world fell silent. There she was, stepping through the back door, raven hair curled loosely and hanging over her shoulders. She wore a plain white dress, cut up to the thighs, and cut low in the chest, straps thin as string. She had black flip-flops on and she wore more makeup than normal. False lashes clung to her lids, soft brown eyeshadow blended above them, and deep cherry red lipstick. That was new for Leena, typically staying natural or with a soft nude.

She was beautiful. Words didn’t even exist to describe how badly my heart squirmed for her, threatening to burst out of me.

But just behind her was what I had hoped would stay home - or get hit by a train on the way over. Whatever worked.

Justin was definitely taller than six-foot. Maybe not as tall as me, but he was fucking stacked. His black t-shirt was fitted to his torso, making it clear he was a gym rat. His jean shorts came down just below his knees, showing his right leg completely tattooed with some Japanese artwork.

His hair was combed back, and he wore dark Aviators over his eyes.

Guy was attractive. So, naturally, I wanted to rip his throat out.

They approached Nick and Laura, but I couldn’t hear what they said to each other. Leena hugged Laura, and Justin shook Nick’s hand. Nick smiled warmly at him, which I can’t logically fault him for, but a sting of unwarranted betrayal still pinched my back.

Leena’s eyes searched around inconspicuously, landing on me, and her lips turned up in a tiny smile. She waved at me gently, and I just gave her a grin in return that I didn’t exactly mean.

She gave me a look of concern, silently asking me if I was okay. I gave her a curt nod in return, which I know she was only forced to accept as good enough.

The party passed slowly as I tried to keep busy with making small talk with random people around the house. I did, however, end up around the fire pit once the sun began to go down, by myself. I sat there for a while, just staring into the flames, and throwing pieces of wood on whenever it got too low. The evening breeze brought the temperature down to a bearable level. My white tank top kept me cool enough that being close to the fire was comfortable.

I heard footsteps coming behind me, and I turned slightly to see Folio approaching, sitting on the bench next to me.

“What’s up, man?”

I shook my head slowly, stoking the flames with the metal poker.

“Not a whole lot.”

He grabbed another chunk of wood, tossing it on the dying fire.

“How you holding up?”

I pressed my lips together and breathed out an audible sigh. “Managing.”

Folio leaned in close to me, so only I could hear him. “I met the guy.”

I glanced over to him. “And?”

He shrugged. “He’s alright, I guess. Seems nice enough. Doesn’t strike me as her type though.”

I snickered. “Her type?”

He grinned, staring at the glow in the pit. “Yeah, you know; tall, dark, and messy.”

I laughed, shoving him in the shoulder, eliciting a giggle from him.

“Nah, she seems alright.” I let my eyes wander to Mileena for a second, seeing her standing at the table with Laura, laughing at something, Justin standing next to her.

She hadn’t approached me at all, which wasn’t surprising.

“When are we doing fireworks?”

Folio bit his lip. “Probably soon? It’s getting dark.”

I nodded. “I could go for blowing shit up.”

He pumped his fist in the air. “Fuck yeah, dude! Like real men!”

We both laughed, continuing an easy conversation. We sat there alone for at least fifteen additional minutes before bodies started gathering with us, seeking the warmth of the fire as the night grew colder.

“I say we start the fireworks in ten?” Nick looked at me, and I gave him a thumbs up. “I’ve got five boxes of mortars. It’s going to be fucking great.”

“Aren’t those illegal?” Leena’s voice piped up from across the pit. She was sat in a white plastic chair, Justin behind her with a hand on her shoulder.

Nick and I shot looks back and forth, smirking.

“Us? Participating in illegal activities? Pfft.” Nick waved a hand at her. “Not in a million years.”

She rolled her eyes, causing Nick and I to bust out laughing.

“Well, when you dumb boys get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.” She scoffed at us.

“A night in jail? Worth it.” I smiled at the fire, not daring to make eye contact with her.

“You know, Leena and I were at the beach the other day,” Everyone’s heads snapped up to Justin, who was speaking to the entire group. I took note of Leena’s hand now on his, their fingers interlocked. “and these teenagers were setting off fireworks.”

He chuckled, and Leena was grinning up at him, recalling some memory.

“Before the lifeguards busted them, one of them put a bottle rocket in one of the trash cans.” He shook his head. “The can fell sideways and the rocket damn near caught the kid in the chest!”

Everyone around was laughing, but I couldn’t find it in me. Sure, the story was funny…just not coming from him. No, to me, it made me cringe, my stomach turning. I couldn’t even register what he was saying, just that he was holding her hand, and she was smiling at him.

A loud, shrill laugh fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. A switch in my brain that I had nailed down had broken loose, flipping on all of the rage and hysteria I had been locking away the entire day.

“That’s fucking hilarious, dude!” Everyone was staring at me, Mileena looking absolutely mortified.

I slapped both hands down on my knees, making a show of my sarcasm. “As fucking much as I want to hear more of that story, I think I’m going to have to pass!”

I stood then, glancing at Nick. “Let me know when you’re ready to start the fireworks. I’m going to go take a second.”

He didn’t respond, he just stared at me with the same horrified expression everyone else had.

Everyone but Justin, who looked as though he had just been challenged to a duel.

I quickly turned, and jogged into the house, not listening to the abrupt conversations happening behind me. I slipped through the back door, and stopped at the kitchen counter, gripping the edge and leaning my stomach against it, trying to calm my breathing. It wasn’t working.

I made my way to the bathroom, turning on the sink and splashing water on my face. I kept my eyes closed, not at all interested in what I would find in my reflection.

During my focus on trying to control my breathing, I had missed the sounds of footsteps coming into the house.

“Noah?”

I didn’t even have to open my eyes to know it was her. I didn’t respond, I only stood there, shame filling the crevices of my person.

“Are you okay?”

This almost felt like a panic attack. Like something I couldn’t just will away by thinking or wishing hard enough. My breathing was shallow and my muscles were rigid.

But she didn’t need to know that, so I nodded, eyes still closed.

I heard her step closer, and the door closing. She hadn’t left, and I knew that. I could smell her. I used it, the familiar scent that still made me feel home, to let my nerves go back into place.

A hand was placed on my shoulder, unexpectedly, causing me to flinch backward. I finally opened my eyes. Although her voice sounded so tender and concerned, she was absolutely fucking fuming.

Great.

“Please just go.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but it was borderline yelling.

“No.” She crossed her arms, and put all of her weight on one leg. “Not after that stunt.”

I sighed, leaning my back against the wall.

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t have anything else to say.” I had no will left to fight.

She scoffed. “Are you kidding? That’s supposed to just fix it?”

She was pressing me, which wasn’t going to go over well in my current state.

“Leena, please.” I squeezed my eyes closed again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Noah! If I’d have known you were going to act like this I would’ve just stayed home!”

Press.

“This is why I offered not to come! Because I knew you’d act like an ass!”

A little harder.

“And for once I thought you were going to be considering me, but I guess I was fucking wrong!”

Almost there.

“I should’ve fucking known you would do this.”

Boom.

“Shut the fuck up, Leena!” I screamed over her, making her mouth snap shut with a click of her teeth.

“I’m doing my God damn best here! I am sitting here, doing the best I fucking can to watch you sit there with another fucking guy, so if you could just shut up, I’d greatly appreciate it!”

I pushed off the wall behind me, waving my hands in the air.

“I have considered you, so don’t you dare tell me I haven’t! I gave you fucking space, I did everything you asked. And you,” I took a step toward her. “had the audacity to bring another man here, introduce him to my brothers, all for…what?!” My stare must have looked absolutely insane. “Just to fuck with me?! Get a reaction?! Or to prove that you’re moving on better than me?!”

I was in her face now.

“I don’t know what sick fucking game you’re playing here, Princess. But when I don’t act exactly the way you want - like a good fucking dog - you don’t get to come in here and scream at me!”

Less than half of a foot away from her now, I knew I was terrifying her. My teeth were ground together as I looked down at her, my chest heaving.

“Was this what you were fucking hoping for?” My voice was venomous, just shy of a whisper.

All I could hear was her shallow breathing.

“I…” But her words were lost. I continued to hold her with my eyes, having boxed her in against the bathroom door.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s that?”

The softest, slightest whimper left her lips, and I couldn’t help the smirk that curled my lips, my eyes growing dark.

“What’s wrong? You had so much to say. Now you’re so quiet.”

She was staring up at me, her mouth parted.

Oh, I fucking had her.

“Was that the whole reason you brought him here? To get a rise out of me?” I bared my teeth. “To get me worked up?”

“No.” But she wasn’t convincing, her word coming out almost sounding like a question.

“No?” I dared to lean my body in closer, testing my luck. “I don’t believe you.”

Her eyes were stunned, as if I had caught her hand right in the cookie jar.

“You don’t?” She was trying so hard to sound stern, it was adorable.

“Nah. I think you enjoyed watching me squirm.” I inched my face closer to hers. “Every…” I pressed my nose gently against the skin on her neck. “fucking…” Deep inhale. “second.”

She let out a haggard breath, and I almost didn’t catch her legs pressing together.

My throat released a deep, raspy laugh. “Have you fucked him yet, Leena?”

I let one hand slide carefully down the wall, letting the tips of my fingers graze the side of her bare thigh.

“Have you let him touch you?”

She didn’t answer, but I felt her tremble beneath my hand. I pressed my palm to the front of her thigh. “Let him feel how fucking wet your pussy can get?”

My words were muffled against her neck, my lips now grazing the soft skin.

I dared to let a finger trail up to the crease of her leg, under her dress, where her panties covered her.

“Or does it only get that wet for me?”

And then, by the grace of whatever God exists, she moaned.

I let my hand graze over her, feeling how damp she already was.

“God, baby, I can’t even think about it. I get so fucking hard anytime I think of your body. Moving.” I hooked a finger inside her underwear. “Riding me.”

I pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“More addictive than any liquor.”

Her hips pressed against me, pushing herself closer.

“Noah…”

I slid my hand down her folds, pulling her open slightly.

“You know the rules, baby girl. You want me to stop, just got to say so.”

Her hand snatched my wrist, stopping me, pulling me from my trance. I careened backward, looking at her face, panting.

I was ready to pull away, figured I had hit the boundary line. Until she spoke again.

“Fuck me,” Her eyebrow raised, a look of desperation on her face. “please.”

Without any shred of hesitation, I grabbed her shoulder, and spun her body around in front of me, pressing her against the sink. The hand I had in her panties now pressed against her back, and pushing her forward.

Her waist bent over the sink, I pulled the back of her dress up, revealing her black thongs pressed tightly between her cheeks, and used one finger to pull it to the side.

My hand snaked around the front of her, grabbing her throat and standing her back up. My free hand had already unbuckled my belt and pulled my jeans down, and I was pressing my erection against her.

“You fucking miss me, Princess?” I breathed into her ear.

She snarled at me. “Noah, quit talking and fuck me.”

I chuckled. “No problem.”

I pushed up inside of her, her tight walls clenching around me. In the reflection of the mirror, I could see her eyes rolling back in her head. She moaned again, louder than the last time, and I flicked the switch for the fan to kick on, hoping to muffle some of the sound.

I snapped my hips forward, over and over, still holding her tight to my chest. Her eyes had fallen closed, so I gripped her by her chin.

“Look.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at me through the reflection of the mirror, her mouth open and eyes half-masked, looking entirely blissed out.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mileena.” I pressed a hard kiss to her cheek, and she leaned into it. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

She reached her hand back to grip the back of my neck.

“Noah, ugh,” She fell forward, pressing her hips back into me. “God, I’m going to come.”

“Not yet, baby. Let me have this for a second.”

Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, her hair spilling into the bowl of the sink.

“I…I can’t. Please, I’m going to-“ But it was too late, she was tightening around me, pulling me over the edge faster, my cock pumping into her hard.

My hips stopped moving, and I let a hard slap fall on her right cheek. She gasped, standing up straight at the sensation.

I stepped back, quickly pulling up my jeans and leaning back against the wall.

She took a second to right herself, pulling her hair over her shoulder and adjusting her panties. Her eyes bore into mine, an unreadable look inside of them.

“This didn’t happen.”

Her words were cold, but I didn’t question them.

It didn’t happen.

Except that it did, and she couldn’t take that away from me.

#noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

[cutiecorner]

Can We Fix It?

fic • caregiver J'onn J'onzz, regressor John Stewart

still on my John kick. Might write more for these two!

John was feeling under the weather. He hated to admit it, but he was. He was stubborn when it came to taking breaks from hero work - but this flu had progressed to the point he could barely stand. He laid face down on his bed, groaning through the tight pain in his stomach. His groan melted into a whine as his stomach rolled. Ugh, not this again, he found himself thinking. This flu would not make him regress, he promised himself that. Though, when he reached for the water bottle on his night stand, it spilled. He hated messes. This day just went from bad to worse. 

He took a deep breath and prepared himself to roll out of bed, preferably into a standing position. That didn’t happen though, as when he rolled over he rolled clean off the bed, into the puddle of water. John’s face twisted into a pout and he hit the ground with his fist. Ugh! Now he was all wet too? How was he gonna change his shirt if he couldn’t even get up? It was all too much. He hit the ground more and more. His mom’s voice rang through his head, John Marshall Stewart, you better fix your attitude. He stopped his flailing. His mom. He wanted his mom so bad, and the way he was acting? His mom would probably be disappointed. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the tears from an imaginary audience. He hated regression. Hate, hate, hated it!

“John?”

A rumbling voice cut through John’s loud thoughts.

“J’onn?’ He replied.

Said martian was hovering right above him, looking worried at his spot on the floor. Everything’s fine, John thought, act casual.

“H-hey man,” John’s voice cracked. Seriously? 

“Are you alright?” J’onn asked, his voice painfully gentle, “Your tracker sent an alert that your heart rate was elevated, and I know you’re not well,”

John grimaced at the pain blooming in his back, “I’m fine. Just rolled off the bed is all.”

“Let me help you,”

Before John could protest, he was being lifted by his friend. J’onn set him back in bed, and laid the back of his hand on John’s forehead.

“Getting anything from that?” 

J’onn shrugged,“... No, but Clark did it to me when I was sick.”

They shared a laugh.

“Thanks for checking in on me, Big J,”

“Of course. It wasn’t just the sensor that sent me,”

John quirked a brow.

“Your mother wanted me to check in on you,”

John hid his face in embarrassment, mama! He grumbled.

“Think nothing of it, my friend. I’ll be staying with you to make sure you recover,”

“Oh, J’onn, you don’t have to do that.”

“Are you suggesting I disobey a direct order from Shirley Stewart?”

“Oh, yeah, you better stay.”

They laughed again.

J’onn examined John’s face closer, finding the tear stains. He reached up a hand to wipe the still-wet tracks away.

“Little one…” 

John flinched.

“Nope, nope, none of that,” John pouted. He crossed his arms and looked away.

“John, I don’t mean to assume, but if this illness is making you regress -”

“It’s not.” he huffed. J’onn retracted his hand.

“Alright, if you say so.”

John perked up at the success. Ha! He was not regressed. Even J’onn thought so.

"Will you at least let me help you out of your wet shirt?

John had already forgotten about the shirt.

"I can do it by myself, thanks,"

With great struggle (and perhaps a hand from J'onn) the shirt was discarded and replaced with a soft Howard University sweatshirt. 

“Is it okay if I put something on TV?” J'onn asked.

“Of course, I’ve got some DVDs on the shelf.”

J’onn walked over and thumbed through the shelf. A smirk crossed his face, but was quickly covered with his usual neutral expression. He popped the DVD in the player, and an animated selection screen flicked on. A familiar song started to play.

“J’onn. I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“Bob the Builder? This is a kid’s show.”

“Oh? I wasn’t aware. You’re the one with the DVD.”

John huffed. “Touche.”

The theme song played on. Once the episode proper began, John propped himself up to see.

“What is that?” J’onn asked, pointing at the contraption on screen.

“You’ve never seen a steam roller?”

“I don’t get out much.”

“Well, now you have,” John said, “his name is Roley.”

“Do all steam rollers have names?”

“No! Just this one!” John giggled.

…giggled?

“What are the other creatures' names?”

“They’re not really creatures, J, they’re machines,”

“Then why do they have eyes?”

“I dunno!” John was laughing now.

“Well, what are their names?”

“Okay okay… can you… can you look in that bottom drawer?”

J’onn opened the drawer, finding little plastic figures inside.

“Oh! It’s Roley!” J’onn held up the green steamroller. 

“Bring ‘em all over!”

John was sitting up in bed now, trying to curb his growing smile. J’onn spread out the toys on the bed.

“Okay so this is Scoop, he’s a backhoe loader, and Muck is a dump truck - dump trucks are my favorite - and Dizzy, a cement mixer! And Bob, obviously.”

“Bob is the only human among them? How did he come to know these sentient machines?”

John laughed, “I dunno!”

“Maybe if we watch, we’ll find out.”

“Sit here, J!” John beamed, patting the spot next to him.

“Of course, little one.”

#agere #fandom agere #agere fandom #dc agere #justice league agere #green lantern agere #agere fanfic #agere fanfiction