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kenlvry · 1 year

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LISTEN TO ME RN HEAT ME TF OUT STANS GANG + CRAIG DOIGN THE LIPSTICK TREND FROM TICTOK WITH READER

the lipstick trend with stan and craigs team

an, I AM LISTENLING ANON DONT WORRY. no idea what you mean by heat out though 🤨 , 17-18 and gn reader but use of her in tolkiens

kenny

he was the one who suggested it, it came across his fyp one day and he sent it to you "lets do this come over rn." "you asked, why dont you come to my house? 🤨" "why don't i cum in your mom" "HUH 😧" "im here."

you both definitely argue on what lipstick you should wear "okay but i don't even use pink lipstick" "well you should" "its light colour its not gonna appear" "well fuck 😒"

the process of kissing his face is wild, he would suggest to do his lips as the first place "KENNY HOW ARE WE GONNA DO THIS TREND IF YOU KEEP TRYING TO MAKE OUT WITH ME" "ITS NOT MY FAULT"

after like2 hours you finally get the lipstick on his face. now the tiktok was even harder he wouldn't stop laughing. you'd give up and he apologises while laughing

thank god you guys were able to finish it under 1 hour it turned out really good, at the end of the video he kissed you and you wanted to cut that part but he said keep it for like and its true the comments were all about the kiss on the last clip

kyle

okay he too wanted to ask you first but he was kinda shy and waited for you to ask and you did!! woohoo for kyle

"kyle wanna do this" "OKAY" he insists on picking your lipstick and picks the ugliest colour like what 😐

to him there was no such thing as an ugly colour buy it didn't suit your face so no way.

the process of it was calm, he at first wanted to put on the lipstick for you but you looked like a clown has mans never put on lipstick??

he watches you as you kiss him and reapply lipstick and then kiss him again, he feels like a princess fr 🤭🤭

he hasn't seen his face yet so when you record and he saw his face he laughs out loud, "LMAO WHY DO I LIKE THAT??" "WDYM"

you would tell him to take off his hat which he refuses but you looked too cute, when it posted cartman was first to comment and you can already tell what he commented "ew gay" your followers defended you two though 🤭

stan

stan blushes internally when you ask him. "sure im down" DEEP DOWN HE WANTS KIDNAP YOY AND KEEP YOU TO HIMSELF

"what lipstick do you think matches me best, pink or red?" "id say my tip colour" "WHAT 😧"

he has to hold in the very urge to puke every time you kiss him because like you look so cute omg.

he looks in the mirror and is js like "damn, i did it". HE LOVES IT SOOOO MUCH YOU CAN TELL HE'S BLUSHING ONGG ‼️

he even directs you like "do here next, okay now here" its so cute 🤭🤭

when you record and the camera pans to him, he smiles and covers his face blushing bc he can't contain it. it was such a cute video and got iver 2 mil likes. cartman definitely commented "i bet you had to change your clothes 10 times"

cartman

"cartman lets do this" "what." "wdym? cmon its cute" "y/n no offense but that is the most gayest shit i've ever seen" " NO ITS NOT UTS CUTE" "my reputation is at stake if i do that be so for real" "okay I'm asking kyle then" "lets do it."

he actually been wanting to ask you for weeks now but doesn't know how so winwin. you take your absolute time picking your lipstick and he couldn't be more done with "hurry up this doesn't even effect anything" "shut up cartman if i use the right one people will ask what lipstick it is and i get views"

picking a lipstick was already a big deal just imagine the process "ew gay not on my lips" "cartman 😐" tbh he wish he could just make out with you rn but yk how mans is

now recording is even more a hassle "JUST SMILE IS IT SO HARD TO CRACK A SMILE" "NOT WHILE IM LOOKING LIKE THIS" the most he does is wipes your lipstick off and then he just gives a 🙄 look until the end of the video

the comments are just him getting teased at clydes commenting "NAHHH CAN'T BELIEVE HE AGREED TO THIS" kyles is "i can tell that this took a long time" and then wendys is "is that cartman or a clone of him". cartman is pissed af at the comment, he told you his reputation is at stake 😒.

he actually has it saved downloaded and also is his live wallpaper sooo.

butters

butters is the one who asked you this " um y/n can we do this? 😣" while twiddling his fingers, "OKAY"

he's all giddy and smily during the process, after every kiss his blushes intensifies and by the end of it he is just.. 🔴

even though it is the most simplest video ever he has to have a tutorial, he is asking questions for everything man, how do i wipe the lipstick, what do i do, do i smile when its on me , do i laugh??

you tell him what he thinks he should he and he starts kissing you bc rn the sexual tension between you two is intense (to him atleast, he thinks thinks hand holding is already intense)

everyone comments on how cute he is and yk how tiktok is so people comment "does he whimper" "submissive who?" and hes likw WHATTTTT 🧍

clyde

when you suggested this he nodded so hard his head probably was about to fall off. "clyde you wanna do this" "DO I???" ..... "well.. do you?" "i mean yeah it's like a way of- yes i wanna do it"

he loves any lipstick you wear so he lets you pick. after every kiss he looks in the mirror and kicks his feet giggling and you just stand there 🤨

he also tries to make it a makeout session like kenny, when you kissed on his lips he holds your neck and literally makes out with like cnon we have 9 more

when you first hit record and yk how the guy has to wipe your lipstick off, nah he grabbed you by the chin and slams his lips with yours "WHY DIS YOU DO THAT??" "its called content,you wouldn't know with your 9 likes and 70 views"

well you kept the clip and everyone in the comments were talking about it "need a boyfriend like you y/n" "why can't my boyfriend be like this" clyde is obviously gloating bc he had the idea.

tolkien

most romantic man you know, is the first to ask you. "y/n can we do this?" "OKAY BOO 😝"

"hmm which lipstick do you think babe?" "i think every lipstick makes you pretty, it doesn't matter if it doesn't suit you because in my eyes you look beautiful in anything ☺️" "what if i wore kim kardashians 2013 met gala dress" "might have to rethink what i said"

he smiles while you kiss him here and there, every once a while he kisses you back, it was such a cute moment for you two😝🤞🤞

when recording he looks at you while smiling during the whole video and it blew up fast because of that

"the way he looks at her" "wishing he was like this" "you got the bag that man is inlove", it blew in seconds fr

craig

"craig lets do-" "okay" "i didnt even ask you yet" "I'll do anything if its with you" "what if i asked you to have a threesome" ".....if its makes you happy idk.."

idk about you but i think he acts like he doesn't care but inside he is so happy you asked he's been wanting to ask you this but doesn't know how to start up the convo

he doesn't care what lipstick or where you kiss him, its just the way you press your lips on him and look at it then quickly reapply to do it again because it wasn't pigmented enough.

when recorded, he doesn't just wipe he makes you turn to face him by grabbing your chin, and he doesn't let go and just looks at you with those yk siren eyes.

people are simping over him ong "damn girlie share for us" "you mean OUR boyfriend" "tryna find someone as hot as him" and you are pissed fr he laughs at you cursing out the people, like bae dw my eyes only fo you 😝🤞

tweek

"tweek, wanna do this?" "but what if I can't remove the lipstick stain" "tweek what dw i have makeup remover" "WHAT IF THAT DOESN'T WORK 🤯🤯" "TWEEK"

okay so the lipstick may turn out ugly bc of how shaky he is but ITS OKAY BC ITS TWEEK DUH, "a-are you sure you dont want to redo this?" "tweek its fine"

he insists on redoing it the 2nd try turns our worse because he's even more twitchy because of how close you are☺️☺️☺️

his face is just red because he keeps wiping it off with his hands so you can redo it and its obvious too

recording it was so funny because you can't stop laughing at the smudge lipsticks

when posted the comments were so cute but... uh questionable some were "the way the smudges are so obvious 😭😭❤️" or "wishing my future relationship will be like this 🤭" and some were just "tip colour when?? 😜"

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feyascorner · 5 months

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2 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. While seeing him leaving tore you apart from the inside and out, he chose not to see you. He decided what the end of your relationship would be without ever stopping to ask you. You should hate him, truly.

But as soon as you swing open the door, you only have one dying wish.

You want to see him.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. and he finally makes an appearance;,; ik the first two chapters are a bit slow but i think i can start picking up the pace now woohoo!! Reader/Tav’s feelings are supposed to be confusing on purpose but I may have overdone it a tad,,

He hadn’t had time to gather any of his belongings when he left. And while your other companions graciously rid of everything they could into a single box packed away in the corner of the basement, even they could not bring themselves to throw the handheld mirror away–whether because of the intricate designs framing its reflection that surely held value or because of your apprehension for throwing it out, you’re not sure. You haven’t used it yourself, too afraid of even touching its handle out of fear it may crumble away.

One of the orphan children that Cora’s harboring places a cup in front of you. You raise a brow at her, silently asking how Cora’s doing, and she only shakes her head solemnly before scurrying away.

“Where were you at the time of the murder?”

“They’ve already said numerous times where they were,” Lae’zel spits in the Flaming Fist’s direction. “Are all Fists this incompetent, or are you just a special case?”

You run a hand down your face while Gale attempts to calm Lae’zel. Shadowheart’s had her eyes trained on the cups perched around the table for quite some time now, occasionally glancing up to listen to the Fist’s interrogation. Unfortunately, the cups lack their usual alcohol, but you don’t complain about the water with how dry your throat is. You pat her shoulder, and she finally meets your eyes, nodding before resuming her focus on whatever the Fist is saying. You’re not sure yourself at this point.

“As Flaming Fists, we must put the guilty in their rightful place, regardless of whether they’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate or not,” he straightens his back, then narrows his brows at you. “And right now, all witnesses point here. You were seen leaving the tavern with a man reported as missing this morning. Care to explain that?”

You can hear Gale’s chair scrape against the floor. “You can’t be serious. They saved the entire city, for Mystra’s sake! If they wanted bloody murder, they would've been positively drenched in blood by now.”

However, all you feel is the searing stares of your other companions, who remain blissfully unaware of the encounters of your previous night. But you can tell they’re not accusing you, unlike the Fist—they never would—but rather demanding an explanation. You sigh deeply. “I didn’t go home with him. We spoke for almost two minutes before I left.”

“And what proof do you have of that?”

“Considering I woke up in the Blushing Mermaid, I’m sure you can do a little questioning there to find some witnesses,” you stand, the chairs of your leg scratching against the tiled floors. “Are we done here? I need to go speak with Cora, because her husband just died."

“Sit,” he hisses, his fingers reaching for his weapon. “I won’t repeat myself.”

The air becomes tense in mere seconds. It'd been uncomfortable moments ago, but not as much as this—not enough to make Lae’zel reach for her sword as she’s doing now. Your eyes narrow warningly into slits at the Fist, but his subordinates only step forward to stand on either side of him as if daring you to take another step. From the corner of your peripheral, you can see Shadowheart’s palm spark with light. The others occupying the Highberry household, even from outside on the patio, are talking in hushed whispers, all gazes trained on your very breath. And after a suffocating silence, you hear a chuckle from the door.

“Now, Yevir, we shouldn’t be treating our city’s most esteemed citizens with such hostility.”

Grand Duke Ravengard–Wyll’s father–steps into the home, shaking his head. The Fists, who were willing to go head to head with you mere seconds ago, are now turned and saluting the Duke, which makes Lae’zel scoff at your side. “You lot are dismissed under my name. Though I do have a word to exchange with the bard.”

Former bard, you want to correct him.

Your companions exchange an apprehensive glance at one another before you step forward. “And what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with the Duke?”

“You jest. We are all allies here,” he smiles. “Come, we must speak privately.”

You grin wickedly at Yevir as Ravengard steps past you toward the office in one of the other rooms. Yevir only shoots knives with his eyes, and you return the sentiments by sticking out your tongue mockingly, which earns a snort from Shadowheart. Then you quickly follow after Ravengard, shutting the door behind you.

“Have you had any news from my son?” he asks, facing the window with two arms locked behind him.

“Karlach’s been sending a few letters. They’re limited, as you might expect, but they do come,” you say. “She says Wyll is doing alright. They both are.”

He lets out a breath that can’t be mistaken for anything but what it is: relief. “Good. Now, as for what went down between you and Yevir in the other room, I apologize on his behalf. He’s always been too passionate for his own good. Righteousness is admirable, but not when it blinds your judgment.”

“A lot of things can blind judgment. I don’t blame him.”

He turns to you, and despite the questioning gaze in his eyes, he ignores it. “I’m sure you’re well aware of what’s been occurring in the city—you recently received a first-hand experience.”

“So has half the people on the block, apparently.”

“I’m not talking about Cora’s husband.”

He reaches behind his back, pulling out a slim file and holding it to you. “The number of victims is increasing every day now.”

Flipping through the pages in the file, each one is etched with the murder scene of each victim. There’s one with a man haphazardly buried half in the ground, another with a woman collapsed next to the alleyway in Wyrm’s crossing, another of a man bleeding out in the fields of Rivington. You flip the pages again and again until you arrive at one you would’ve preferred to forget.

“Colin Hedgins,” Ravengard says. “Though most of the Fist, including Yuvir, is unaware, his body was found this morning.”

His silvery hair is stained with what you can only assume is blood. His face, which is stretched in horror, makes you wonder if maybe slitting his throat yourself would have given him a more peaceful leave to the afterlife. Not that he really deserved it. You swallow hard, shutting the file away. “So you think I killed him too?”

“No. In fact, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Then why show me this? This is classified information, no?”

“Each one of these victims has one similarity aside from their brutal deaths,” he frowns. “The puncture wounds on their neck, and the fact that their bodies seem to be drained of blood.”

Your breath hitches. While you’d had your suspicions, surely not all of them could have been of vampires? With Orin and the Bhaal worshippers now defeated or retreated into the shadows, the city had gotten eons safer—this just felt like a slap to your face. One group of murderers after another, it seemed. Instead of replying, you stare at Ravengard with pursed lips, urging him to get to his point.

“Wyll has told me of your relations with the vampires,” he says, and it makes your teeth clench. “He was gone by the time I’d joined your camp, but Wyll tells me you had a vampire for a companion for most of your journey. Could he be involved in-”

“No.” The answer is fast. Almost instant. And while a part of you feels disgusted for defending him, even now, another part refuses to let you live while the city thinks of him as nothing but a bloodsucking monster. Even if everyone thought of him as one now. “He wouldn’t have.”

The worst part is that he fully could have, even if you don't want to believe it. Your mind flashes back to the way his hands had felt around your throat, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Ravengard’s expression softens, and you see it again. Pity. Gods, you’d do anything to never see that kind of face again. “I’m also aware that you two had an—-arrangement. One that involved more than just mere friendship. But you must know if we cannot catch the vampire spawns that are running rampant in our city, dozens if not hundreds of more people will die.”

You want to tell him that he should not search for sympathy in you. Because you were once a person willing to get rid of 7000 spawns for the sake of one lover, who only ended up trying to kill you. “He won’t talk to me anyway. I’m sure you also know he didn’t leave on good terms, seeing as you seem to know everything about my love life. I can’t help you.”

The words come out snappier than expected, but Ravengard doesn’t react like he expected this.

“I see,” he says. “Then perhaps you’ll at least be able to keep an eye out. And please, report to me.”

You don’t budge.

He takes it as a sign to leave and moves toward the door. “If you do change your mind, let me know.”

You want to tell him your future is not a matter of what you want. It’s what he wants, and he’s already chosen your fate.

“And is anyone else aware that an entire horde of vampire spawn is living under the city?” Shadowheart says in exasperation. “No wonder they think Astarion’s the one who did it. They think there aren’t any more vampires here anyway! With that many vampires, imagine what destruction they could bring if they miss a few meals!”

“Surely we can convince our sharp-toothed friends to lay low in the Underdark with the others for a while? We convinced half of them. I don’t see why we can’t convince the other,” Gale suggests.

“A warrior who seeks blood shall have blood,” Lae’zel hisses. “I see no reason for them to leave. If I’d been a spawn, I would stay behind a city full of cattle than return to a place of eternal darkness.”

Your head hurts. From continuously sleeping anywhere but the comforts of your bed or from what’s going on, you don’t know, and you don’t care. You just want a nice long bath to wash the dirt on your face and a hot meal to go along with it. Your companions continue arguing, and it’s times like these when you wish Wyll and Karlach were still traveling beside you—they were usually the diffusers of the group.

To an extent, you had been too. Not anymore, though. That was the least of your worries.

“Why must we fix Astarion’s mess in the first place?” Lae’zel adjusts the sword she’d been cleaning on her lap. “We are not dogs to do his bidding. And from what I recall, we have no longer relations with him.”

This finally urges you to speak, almost instinctively. “We have to help. That’s final.”

It's not often that you reinforce your power as the appointed "leader" of the group, preferring to incorporate their opinions rather than choosing all on your own. They all turn to you with a mixture of suspicion and mostly cringe from Lae’zel. Your face flares in response. “I’m just saying we can’t just let a bunch of innocent people die!”

“Of course,” Gale coughs.

You can feel yourself losing your composure, your palms feeling clammy. Still, you straighten your back. “Astarion has nothing to do with me either. I’m doing this for the city.”

“Right.”

You opt to just clear your throat. “I’ll talk to Petras. We’ll figure out a way for all of us to be happy.”

Lae’zel rolls her eyes, but Shadowheart only raises a brow. “And how exactly are you going to find Petras? It’s not like he has a mailbox or an address.”

“I’ll figure it out. Always do,” you smile, and her face softens. “In the meanwhile, I’ll have to rely on you guys to pick up my work for rebuilding the city so I can focus on tracking him down. I don’t think it’ll take too long—maybe a week or so.”

Gale’s face knits together in concern. “And you’re quite sure you won’t need any of us to accompany you?”

“They’re fully capable of taking care of themselves, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “Very well, then. We’ll await good news.”

Looking back on it, perhaps you did need the help.

Days upon days of searching, yet nothing. You’re sure you covered almost half the sewers at this point, and you’re not sure if you’re just insanely unlucky or the vampires just left while you’d been searching elsewhere.

But the number of deaths says otherwise.

So you’d turned to a new approach. If you couldn’t find them, you’d let them find you.

The days stretch longer, with the city being in its summer season. And while you’re grateful, since it means vampires will have less time to hunt, you always despise the way this cloak is sticking to your skin and the hairs that seem glued to your cheeks with the hood stifling any hope of breathing freely. Still determined, you force your legs forward into the darkest alleyways you can find.

Though you’ve had a few fruitless days, pacing aimlessly throughout the city during the dead of night into early morning, a part of yourself keens at the moonlight draping over you tonight.

It had been on a night like this, one where the clouds make way for the moonglow to illuminate what lurks in the city during the night. Though at the time, instead of the comfortable bed in the house you and your companions managed to buy after scraping enough gold together, you were sleeping on a bedroll that did little to shield you from the rocks, doing nothing to even the ground below.

Back then, your companions were nothing but that—companions on a journey you hoped to end as quickly as possible to return to the taverns and bars of Baldur’s gate, where you would spend your nights singing the familiar tunes that your patrons enjoyed most. So after the camp celebration with the Tieflings, when Astarion led you to the forest clearing where you first felt skin other than your own, you realized this adventure of yours was more than just that. It was a new stepping stone in your life.

He’d held you close to him, offering you whispers of affection while his hands ran through your hair. He’d kissed you, his hands caressing either side of your cheek. He’d let you marvel at the scars on his back, his hands resting on your waist.

The same hands that wrapped around your throat months later. You can still feel them sometimes.

Despite your speech to Gale before Cora’s husband showed up dead, you weren’t sure how you would react if you ever saw your former lover again. On nights that weren’t plagued with nightmares, you stayed up, wondering if you’d cry. If you’d reach out for him, embracing him in a hug you never wanted to let go from. If you’d let him brush his knuckles on your cheeks, if you’d let him press a kiss to your forehead, if you’d let him love you again.

You weren’t sure. And a part of you—the part shoved deep inside the corners of your heart—wonders if never seeing him again was a blessing. That regardless of the ache in your heart now, never seeing him would save you from something worse.

So deeply lost in your thoughts, you barely notice the murky figure swinging a pipe at your head.

Nearly scathing the surface of a concussion, you dodge, but he’s too fast. Before you’ve even begun reaching for your knife, the figure swings you toward the wall, and you swear you can hear it crack as your back collides with it. Your vision only manages to straighten itself once the figure has you shoved onto the ground, either of their knees on the sides of your hip.

Instinctively, your hand flies up to stab at their arm, but you’re no match. They twist your wrist, forcing you to drop the blade, and pins either of your arms to the ground. You can’t see anything but the glint of their fangs against the light.

You’d fought vampires before, and you had never seen one so fast. So aggressive. So primal. Astarion had entertained you with friendly spars, but you’d also fought Cazador to the death. Even he hadn’t been this fast.

“I just want to talk to Petras! I’m not going to hurt you, I–” Your pleas go deaf on their ears.

When you squint, you can finally see the blood staining their fangs, and you realize that they’ve already fed.

They’re fed, and they’re still hungry.

A fed vampire, is a strong one, you remember. And if you add their hunger on top of that...

Even as you try to yank yourself away, they only squeeze their grip harder, enough to cut off blood circulation. The color drains from your face, your expression almost fearful. No, it does scare you. It scares you that this is only a spawn, but they can still attack someone so ferociously. It scares you that Astarion could have done the exact same thing to you.

The spawn yanks your head to the side with a claw on your hair, allowing them access to your throat. You thrash and kick, but to no avail, forced to watch as they’re about to sink their teeth into you. You hate your mind because even at death’s door, all you can think about is him.

Is this what he would’ve done to you had your companions not been there to save you?

Is this what he wanted to do the day he first approached you, asking for your blood?

Anger burns in your chest, and with the last bit of your strength, you lift your head and bite them first. Your teeth sink into their throat, feeling the break of skin just before they rip you away, wailing in pain as you’re carelessly tossed to the ground. As they grasp at the wound on their neck, you take the opportunity to lunge for your knife.

You feel genuine rage for the first time in what feels like forever. No self-pity, no dejection, no sorrow for losing the man you’d given everything to, but rage for the state you were reduced to just because of him. And that while his leaving tore you apart from the inside and out, he chose not to see you. He decided what the end of your relationship would be without ever stopping to ask you.

You thrust the blade into their chest, and they stop. It’s no stake, but it’ll do for now. And as their throat gurgles with blood, all you can hear is the desperate panting of your own breath when their body falls to the ground, face first.

You pray they’re dead.

Then, your vision in one eye blurs with red. When you lift your hand to your forehead, you feel the warm blood trailing down, probably from when you collided with the wall. The little strength left in your legs vanishes as you reel forward, your knees crashing onto the mud beside the spawn.

Though you thankfully manage to collapse on your back rather than your poor counterpart who’s probably choking on the dirt and grim of the city grounds even in death, you can feel your head going light, even as your hands tighten around the knife laying on your chest. You greet the moon again, this time with a breathy laugh.

Seluné must be smiling back at you, surely.

You’re not sure who’s standing above you when you open your eyes again, being only seconds away from entirely blacking out. But you think it must be an angel, with his snow-white curls and how he revels under the veil of the moon. You want to reach out to him, but your shaky arm says otherwise.

He’s beautiful, you think, even if you can’t make out his face.

You hope the angel doesn’t pity you.

Apparently, heaven is at Elfsong Tavern. You’d imagined being greeted with the smell of roses and a fresh stream rather than the overwhelming stench of booze, but you suppose it’s fitting considering how you’d died in a puddle of what you assume to be a concoction of cat piss and your own blood.

No, that can’t be right.

Looking around frantically, you lurch forward, the sweat and mud sticking your hair to your skin. Multiple pairs of eyes bore into you. You’re slumped in the tavern's kitchen, several Fist soldiers peering at you curiously. And finally, you manage to make out Shadowheart, whose hands are hovering over you with a gentle glow.

“Lay back down, I’m almost done,” she frowns.

You ignore her request. “The spawn! I’m not sure if they’re dead–”

“Never mind that,” she snaps. “They found you blacked out on the ground next to a dead body and a broken wall. What in bloody hell happened last night? Do you know how much it scared us when the damn Fists were banging at our door at 4:30 in the morning?”

Your head spins, and you clutch at your head. “Got ambushed. I tried to talk to them, but apparently, they just wanted a midnight snack.”

“Heavens above,” she breathes. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“No, I was so close, Shadowheart,” you shake your head frantically, smearing at the mud still plastered on your face. “I’ll be more prepared next time. If I manage to just capture one of the spawn alive, I could ask them where Petras is-”

There’s a loud yell from the hatch leading to the basement. Your head whips in its direction, then to Shadowheart, staring at her inquisitively.

She sighs, finally lowering her hands to her side. “Look, I need you to listen to me very closely. As your friend, I can’t have you losing your composure in front of the Duke downstairs. They’re in the hideout, but they’re also with–”

You hear Gale’s voice holler. “You’re the only one who knows them well enough, Astarion!”

Suddenly, your blood runs cold. While Shadowheart tries to keep you still, nothing can stop you as you yank the hatch open, sprinting downstairs. You run through the secret entrance to the hideout, your mind racing rapidly with words you can’t even decipher because they’re going by so fast. You want to hide away and barge into the room simultaneously, and the pounding of your head does nothing to help.

You're different now, you assure yourself. A part of you hates him for what he did, and you're willing to act on this hatred. You won't be passing out on the street, drunk on the pit of isolation he left behind, praying he'd appear from thin air and assure you things are fine. You're better now, and you did it all without his help.

But as soon as you swing open the door, you only have one dying wish.

You want to see him.

The room is cold–empty, except for three figures alongside two more guards standing at the door. Ravengard, standing at one end of the circular table, has his arms crossed, brows knitted together comprehensively. Gale, who had been pacing back and forth around the room, freezes instantly when he sees you. So does everyone else.

“Ah, and here comes the star of the show.” You haven’t heard his voice in so long. It almost feels foreign.

Standing between the other men on either side of the table, Astarion’s eyes bore into you, lips curled in a grin barely showing off his fanged teeth. When you lock eyes, yours grows wider as you take him in.

He looks almost the same. The same curly white hair, the same blood-red eyes, and the same smile that once brought you joy yet now only fueled the endless longing of your nightmares. While you expect yourself to feel anger, relief, or shock, all you feel is the rapid beating of your heart, your mind void of everything besides how uncomfortable the dried mud feels on your face. Your breath hitches as he lifts a finger to the side of his head. Only then do you also feel the warm liquid sliding down your cheek.

“You’re bleeding, darling.”

With the inevitable urge to barf up nothing from your empty stomach, you're back to being the same person as you were four months ago.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @ukeia-uchiha @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fluff

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skamenglishsubs · 29 days

Text

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 4

Last episode ended with Simon coming home to a smashed window, this episode starts the morning after, Simon takes the bus to school, while Wilhelm is anxiously waiting for him.

Culture: At a high school level in Sweden, there's national tests in Swedish, English, and Math. Like everywhere else, the purpose of these tests is not only to grade students, but to align all schools across the country to combat grade inflation.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent is trying to cheat by looking at Nils' answers.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent draws a dick in the gravel while waiting for the others to be done with the test.

Subtext: This entire episode is overflowing with examples of privilege. For Vincent, and many other rich kids like him, studying and learning doesn't matter, they'll graduate regardless, so he doesn't care about the exam, he only cares about the graduation party.

Cinematography: Even with Felice and friends being completely blurred out in the background, you can still see Stella and Fredrika turning to look at Sara, and then turning their backs on her.

Culture: In the US, a lot of people are using "socialism" as a catch-all phrase which means politics they don't agree with, regardless of its actual ideology. Likewise, in Sweden, a lot of people use "communist" in the same way about generally left-wing politics, which is what Vincent is doing here.

Subtext: Wilhelm asks Simon if he can reconcile the conflict of dating a royal while being anti-monarchy, but the real question is of course if Wilhelm can reconcile the conflict in himself.

Subtext: This is where the show's political stance shines through, and this argument, that Wilhelm wasn't allowed to choose his life for himself, is the main argument they're gonna use in the finale.

Subtext: Wilhelm is weakly defending the monarchy, but just ends up repeating what his mother told him; it's a privilege, not a punishment, but does he believe it himself?

Subtext: The letter-to-yourself plot is mainly there in order to help August along his redemption arc, but here the show is using it to reinforce the point of the previous scene. Who does Wilhelm want to become? Does he have a choice?

Culture: In Sweden, Säkerhetspolisen, SÄPO, is the government agency in charge of national security, which includes providing security and assigning bodyguards to the royal family.

Subtext: Note the great use of passive voice here by Farima to avoid taking responsibility for the decision to force August to join the birthday foundation event. She's also expertly bargaining with Wilhelm to get what she wants.

Subtext: We know it was the far-right assholes who posted comments to Simon's videos a couple of episodes ago.

Blink and you miss it: Jan-Olof really perks up when Linda talks about moving to Gothenburg, because that would probably mean the end to the relationship between Wilhelm and Simon, which would solve all of his current problems.

Subtext: Like Farima, he bargains with Linda and Simon to get what he wants, for Simon to stop posting things to social media. It's almost as if their strategy was to do nothing at the start, waiting for things to blow up so they could swoop in, help out, and start making demands in exchange...

Blink and you miss it: The option to inactivate and hide your social media account is right there, but of course Simon has to choose to delete everything, because it will cause more drama and anguish.

Blink and you miss it: Fencing! Woohoo! I did fencing for five years as a kid until 8th grade or something, but I only did foil, and not épée like these students. I have absolutely no idea where these two are coming from or going to though, where would they practice? Is there a hidden fencing hall somewhere on the grounds that we haven't seen yet? How many kids at Hillerska are fencing? Also, he's carrying a practice blade and not an electric competition blade, so that checks out. Of the three types of modern fencing, épée is unique in that the entire body counts as a valid target, while in foil only the torso counts, and in sabre only the upper half counts. Oh wow, it looks like the gear is now wireless and every fencer carries their own indicator lights. Cool! Back in my day you had to be strapped in with a cord for competitions.

This tumblr is now about French School fencing. Allez! Touché!

Subtext: The narrative is that it's perfectly ok for the crown prince to be gay, as long as he's not gay gay.

Culture: The show keeps saying this, but in real world Sweden it's no longer the case. Supporting los jibbities is viewed as a completely mainstream and inoffensive opinion, on par with supporting human rights in general.

Subtext: Another example of privilege is being in a position to do a lot of good, and then just not caring about it. Simon is fighting for the causes he believes in, so seeing Wilhelm just casually throw it away is extremely disappointing for him.

Subtext: Unlike Vincent, August is actually a natural leader, someone people listen to, which is why he manages to quiet down the room when Vincent is unable to. Maybe a good quality in a future king?

Subtext: Simon is continuing the argument from before. Wilhelm could have shown solidarity with mental health causes or LGBT causes, but chose not to. However, he immediately decided to join in solidarity with the other rich kids protesting the school rules, which is rather selfish.

Subtext: Colour theory! Sara in purple, because part of the reason she's back at school is that August asked her to? And Simon in yellow, because he sure isn't loving Wilhelm very much right now.

Subtext: Just a reminder that Sara has actually been completely out of the loop since the end of season 2. She has no idea about the school rules, what's happened at home, how it's going with Simon and Wilhelm, or what's happening at school.

Blink and you miss it: Fredrika is so close to stop striking as soon as she's threatened with repercussions.

Subtext: I keep hammering this point home: The culture is in the walls, it's not something some of the kids made up. The visiting alumni were also hazed as new students and kept it going as third years. Same for the parents of all these kids. They're all part of the system, they all kept the cycles of abuse going, because they want the school to be like that.

Subtext: Privilege is thinking you can get things your way with almost no effort. None of these kids have ever struggled or protested something for real and then not been given what they wanted, so they seriously believed they'd win immediately.

Subtext: Another theme of this season is bringing secrets out in the open. We've all seen August struggling with body dysmorphia and an eating disorder since season 1, but no-one has ever called it out and put words on it, until Simon immediately recognizes it and calls it out.

Subtext: ...while the rich kids are just stuck in denial, because eating disorders is for poor people or something, it's not something that happens to them. And if it did, you certainly wouldn't admit it to anyone else.

Subtext: August tries to jokingly fend off Nils because he doesn't want anyone to know that the letter actually meant something to him, until Nils pushes too hard, and August punches him.

Subtext: Vincent talked a big game about striking in solidarity, but when they're caught as hilariously unprepared as they are, they're not pooling their resources in solidarity with each other, and instead resort to selling them to the highest bidder. Capitalism in a nutshell, illustrated perfectly by the behaviour of spoiled rich kids. Also, pet peeve, the English word for the currency of Sweden is "kronor", not "crowns".

Lost in translation: They're actually repeating a single word in Swedish, "svikare", which is pretty hard to translate. The verb, "svika", is a bit worse than letting someone down, but not as bad as betraying someone. The adjective, "besviken" typically means disappointed. So "svikare" means a person who is letting other people down, disappointing them, or betraying them.

Subtext: The culture is in the walls of the place, but the kids are also pretty damn complicit in continuing all the shitty traditions. This looks like a game of strip poker or truth or dare that went off the rails and just resulted in more bullying, with everyone joining in.

Subtext: The other girls are upset with Felice because she broke the code. You don't snitch to outsiders, you don't tell the truth, you keep up appearances.

Blink and you miss it: Henry won the potato chip auction, happily ate the entire bag, and passed out in a chair, clutching the bag. Mmmm, sourcream and onion.

Subtext: Speaking of closing ranks towards the outside, this also applies to this strike. It would be bad PR for the school if anyone outside found out that it happened, so it's better to solve it quietly and discreetly. Vanessa can trust the kids not to snitch. Vincent is also right, the parents, who are paying the tuition fees, are on their side.

Subtext: Felice can't be seen talking to Sara, so she checks that the coast is clear, and then drags Sara into a private bathroom to have their conversation.

Subtext: Likewise, Sara was probably Felice's first real friend.

Subtext: Nice little foreshadowing. I would have loved seeing Simon's drawing though!

Subtext: Well, he could have just made his social media private, but the show has to maximize the drama, so here we are, piling on more examples of how Simon is losing himself to the monarchy, that maybe he can't reconcile the conflict.

Subtext: Erik spent three years living at Hillerska, of course he wouldn't have told his then twelve year old kid brother about all the shit going on at the school. August spent an entire year living with Erik at the school, seeing what went on first hand, so of course he knows a side of Erik that Wilhelm doesn't.

Subtext: August has been trying to keep his mouth shut and avoid Wilhelm, but since they have yet another fight, he decides to drop the bomb about Erik to hurt Wilhelm.

Subtext: Again, the culture is in the walls. This is not something that only Erik's class did, once. It's probably been happening to all the boys for decades. It happened to the current second-year students, it happened to Erik, and lots of students before him who kept this shitty initiation tradition going.

Culture: Let's talk about the gay porn hazing a bit more. To me, this is an urban legend. I heard about it when I was a teenager back in the 90's, but I don't personally know anyone it happened to, or anyone who did it to anyone else. It was always hearsay, it happened to a friend of a friend's brother, or a classmate's cousin's friend or something similar, as is typical of urban legends.

Let's also make one thing absolutely clear: It doesn't work. The homophobic idea behind this shit is that if you are forced to watch gay porn and get a boner, you are gay, and if you don't, you're straight. But that is actually not true, erections don't work that way, and the fear of being found out is quite the boner killer. Also, what if you like guys, but the guys in the porno aren't your type? There's just so many ignorant misconceptions behind this idea.

I've also seen a lot of fan comments that keep playing into this ignorance; that the only reason Nils decided to stop the tradition was because he obviously failed it. Or that the only reason August is against it is because he failed, and the only reason he failed is because he's secretly not straight. No. Remember that the test doesn't work. Nils probably passed, despite actually being gay. August might have failed, despite being completely straight. Regardless of what happened, they both found it humiliating, and that is why they made a pact to stop it.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

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hwasdvlly · 11 months

Text

Joy | j.wooyoung

ꨄ summary: as a child at heart, he takes his family to a magical place.

ꨄ pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader

ꨄ genres: romance, family, and fluff

ꨄ word count: 0.8k words

ꨄ warnings/tags: none. established relationship. idol!wooyoung, non-idol!reader, married couple, wooyoung is the cutest father

ꨄ a/n: yay!! i finally got the chance to write again! wooyo made me soft in this one

“Hello, Atiny!”

A bubbly voice from a handsome, cute, sweet, talented, and hot man waves at the phone.

Wooyoung begins to talk about today’s adventure. “I am in the hotel bathroom because I just got done showering and ready to head out with my little family. I would’ve made the members come along, but they denied it because they wanted me to have a good time. Ever since we’ve been touring, I haven’t seen my family for a while. To my surprise and happiness, the love of my life and the babies came out here to see me.”

He sighs softly because he still can’t believe his wife is doing it for him and the kids. Wooyoung continues, “I am truly blessed to have amazing people in my life. So, to make it up to them, I bought Disneyland tickets. Woohoo!” He does a tiny fist bump in the air. “And yes, Atiny. Your Wooyo is taking you there.” He nods his head earnestly with a wide smile.

The video transitions from wet-haired Wooyoung in pajamas to a much dapper Wooyoung. He is dressed in a yellow button-up, ripped denim jeans, and tennis shoes. The man goes for something casual because he wants to feel and look comfortable. He reveals himself through a full mirror in the hotel room.

“I don’t usually wear bright colors, but I figured it was appropriate for a place with excitement,” Wooyoung stated. He gingerly brushes his long bangs that frame his face. “I am keeping this a little longer. I think it’s my favorite out of all hairstyles.” Not only he, but his wife agrees. You like how super soft his hair is.

He then hears high yet adorable singing voices. Wooyoung turns his attention to the noise. A grin etched on his rosy lips. He sees you putting on matching outfits for the kids.

The Jung Twins are the prince and princess of ATEEZ.

Wooyoung moves his attention back to the phone. He still has that smile. “Y/N has Woobin and Wonhee dressed as Mickey and Minnie Mouse.” The father couldn’t stop looking at his angels. He predicts the uncles will die of cuteness once he takes millions of pictures. Woobin and Wonhee have their father’s gorgeous eyes and inherit his playful behavior. As much as the members find it cute, they believe it’s uncanny.

Little Wooyoungs can cause more chaos. However, the guys love them to death.

“Is everyone done?” Wooyoung asked his family.

“Yes, appa!” The little ones answered in unison.

“We are ready!” You joined your kids.

He shifts his gaze from his gaze to his beautiful wife. You are matching his yellow top but with a pretty sundress. Wooyoung is oblivious about being mesmerized by you that he forgets he is still recording. Soon enough, he clears his throat and yells out. “Let’s go!”

The munchkins trailed behind Wooyoung like ducklings in a line. You happily giggled at how they’ll forever follow their dad.

In the vehicle, Wooyoung tells the viewers they are heading to Disneyland while listening to ATEEZ. During the drive, he shows a bit of his kids singing. The twin’s favorite song is Utopia because it brings them comfort. Also, they love to sing along to Uncle Seonghwa’s high-note.

An hour later, the family arrived at the amusement park. Wooyoung got greeted by a few Atinys when entering. Plus, they recognized you and the twins. Wooyoung heard the fans yell they wished them the best of luck as a family.

“Thank you!”

The idol gives his appreciation for his fans’ love. He sends them a finger heart, and they return the gesture.

Wooyoung turns on his phone to film more videos. He has you record him walking with the kids. Woobin and Wonhee hold one of their father’s hands and swing them back n forth. Wooyoung speaks, “I feel like a little boy again. I missed coming to places like this. But I am grateful to experience it with my family."

"Right, guys?” He looks down at his children. Wonhee nods and flashes a cheery smile. “Appa! The castle is so pretty!” Woobin points his tiny finger up ahead. Wooyoung might’ve melted on the spot.

His babies are too cute!

Overall, the four were having endless fun. Wooyoung and his family went on thrilling rides, took pictures with Disney characters, ate delicious food, and gravitated to the park’s beauty. For the final shot of his vlog, Wooyoung records the fireworks.

A rainbow of stars in the galaxy blossoms the night.

Wooyoung stops recording to bring you into a back hug as the kids watch in awe at the bursting colors. He rests his chin on your shoulder. You turned your neck to see him. The fireworks created enough brightness to show your husband’s smiling face. Wooyoung leans close to press his soft, elegant lips onto yours.

“Do you regret marrying me? I haven’t been there for you, Woobin, and Wonhee.” The husband asked his wife in a solemn voice.

You let out a snicker. “Of course not! I vowed to love and care for the biggest baby in the world. Plus, raising the angels of our lives.” Despite his music career, you tell your husband you’ll always be there for him.

Wooyoung's content smile never left his face.

#ateez #atiny #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x you #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung fluff #ateez wooyoung fluff

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makeitmingi · 7 days

Text

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 43]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

"Hey, wanna swap?" You came over to where San and Yunho were grilling the meat. Yunho smiled when he saw you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"No, we're good. Let us cook for all of you now." San chuckled, turning you around and gently pushing you back in the direction of the table. You went to help Seonghwa make the ramen for the table. There were two pots going from the sheer amount.

"Taste test." Wooyoung called. You went over to help him taste the bean paste soup.

"Good." You nodded in approval. Wooyoung grinned and leaned in to give you a peck on the cheek but you dodged it.

"Hey! You knowing dodging it is only going to make it worse." He frowned, trapping you in his arms to forcefully try and peck your cheek. You squealed amidst your laughter, trying to escape.

"Stop, I need to make the tamagoyaki." You slapped his arms. He laughed and let you go, stealing a peck on your cheek first.

"What tamagoyaki are you making?" He asked as you stood in front of the fridge.

"I'll do a mentaiko one and a cheese one... I think. With the amount of people, we'll definitely need at least two." You said, looking at the ingredients you bought.

"Two should be sufficient." Wooyoung hummed. You cracked the eggs and began to make the tamagoyaki with the different fillings, cooking the delicate sheets of egg layer by layer. Yeosang came to help wash the lettuce, perilla leaves and chili peppers that you all would eat with the meat.

"What's next?" Jongho came over.

"Spring onion salad. Red pepper flakes are in the cupboard with the soy sauce." You informed. He saluted and started on that. Wooyoung prepared the garlic and set aside some to be marinated.

"Can that be marinated in time?" Jongho asked, seeing Wooyoung mix the soy sauce mixture with the garlic and onions.

"We'll see. I'll heat it up a little to hopefully speed up the process." The older shrugged.

"The first portion of meat is cooked. When you guys are ready, we can eat." Yunho entered the house, going to the fridge to grab a beer and a soda, presumably, for San.

"Okay. I'll go set up and the grill for the seafood then." You grabbed the tray of prepped seafood and box of rock salt.

"Can I use this part of the grill? Before we put the marinated meats on." You asked. San nodded, stepping aside and dramatically gesturing for you to take over. First, you laid down the aluminium foil then built a salt bed.

"Is it hot, love? Want help?" Yunho asked.

"I'm good, Yun. Thanks." You said, laying the layer of rock salt down on the tin foil. It only took 5 minutes before the salt started popping and sizzling.

"Be careful. It may jump." You cautioned Yunho and San. Once the salt was hot, you laid the shrimp down first.

"That looks good." San said in awe, him and Yunho flinching slightly when the salt popped.

"Ramen's ready. I'm going to get the rice now. We're all having rice right?" Mingi asked. The 3 of you nodded in confirmation. The taller went into the house to grab the rice.

"Hongjoong hyung, I need help to carry everything!" He yelled from inside. Hongjoong stood up and quickly went over.

Everyone was busy their own thing, running around and preparing or cooking. Finally, everything was done. All 9 of you sat at the long table on the deck to begin eating. Jongho gave out glasses to everyone, him and Wooyoung making sure that everyone's glasses were filled with alcohol.

"Woohoo! Cheers!" All of you clinked glasses and began digging into the delicious food. This reminded you of the first time you went out for dinner together.

"This reminds me of the first dinner we had together as a team. To celebrate one week of the restaurant being open." You smiled.

"And now we're celebrating one year." Seonghwa said. You nodded, clinking glasses with him again.

"Mmm, so good." Yunho groaned happily, falling onto your shoulder in pure bliss. A happy smile on his face as he chewed his food. You snorted at his reaction.

"Drama queen." You couldn't help but laugh, patting his cheek. You made a wrap to eat.

"I asked you to make a wrap for me when we ate at the barbeque restaurant." Yunho remembered, watching you make the wrap.

"Exactly. Thinking about it, I don't know if you genuinely enjoyed it or you were just trying to flirt." You raised an eyebrow. Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong winced at your words, loudly 'ooooooh'ing, while Yunho pouted at you.

"It was actually good! I wouldn't lie about that!" He whined. You smiled and grabbed his chin in your hand, leaning forward to give him a peck, earning jeers from the rest of the table.

"Come here!" Wooyoung tried to kiss Jongho, who in retaliation, jagged Wooyoung hard.

"Oww! Yah!" He howled, grabbing his ribs. You knew that was going to leave a bruise for sure. Hongjoong refilled everyone's drinks.

At the end of the night, the food was finished and everyone helped to clean up the area before moving into the living room to continue drinking.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!" The boys cheered on Yunho and Jongho, who were racing each other.

"I win!" Yunho slammed his empty glass down, throwing his arms up victoriously as the others cheered for him.

"Did you see me win?" He cuddled up against you. You nodded, too busy laughing at how drunk Yunho was already. You had stopped drinking a while ago, already feeling the buzz but you wanted to be somewhat sober. Yunho leaned on you and threw his head back, laughing as Mingi tripped over something.

"Be careful, Mingi!" Yeosang went over to help the taller male, sitting him back down on the couch. Mingi blinked with a dazed look in his eyes, confused at what was going on.

"You aren't drinking anymore?" You asked San, who was sitting on the floor with Wooyoung laying in his lap.

"Nope, not after what happened last time. Two drinks are more than enough." He chuckled.

"Just leave him there later. He can sleep anywhere when he's drunk." You said, nodding over to Wooyoung. San laughed and nodded his head, stroking Wooyoung's hair.

"Baby, pay attention to me." Yunho frowned, grabbing your cheeks to make you face him.

"I am paying attention to you, Yun." You said.

"Good." He gave you a big smile, which was adorable with his red cheeks and red ears, giving you another kiss. You smiled softly, stroking his cheek. He leaned against your chest and you put your arm around his head.

"I miss Whiskey... He hates me but I love him~" Yunho sniffled, a sad pout on his face.

"Aww, I miss him too. And he doesn't hate you, Yun. He just shows love differently, you buy him snacks and toys. I'm sure he misses you too." You comforted.

"Whiskey is our first son... Our very cute son." He smiled up at you. His words made you choke, you felt your own cheeks heat up.

"I'm sleepy." Seonghwa groaned.

"Let's get you to bed." You stood up, leaving Yunho momentarily. You put Seonghwa's arm around your shoulders and tried to keep him steady, guiding him to his room.

"There we go, Hwa. Goodnight." You said, tucking him in. Seonghwa hugged you down to his chest.

"Goodnight." He whispered in your ear before letting you go. You chuckled and made sure he was fine before leaving the room.

"I've put Wooyoung in his room. He's out like a light. Didn't even notice me carry him." San said, coming out of Wooyoung and Jongho's shared room. When the two of you returned, Hongjoong was shakily topping up everyone's glass, squinting his eyes to focus on getting the alcohol into the glass.

"Come on!" Hongjoong pulled Yeosang over. Poor Yeosang was tipsy too, staring into space and not really saying much. He looked dazed, it was cute.

"Baby, where did you go? You left me." Yunho frowned when you returned to your spot.

"I went to put Hwa in bed, Yun." You replied patiently.

"Come on, Mingi. Don't sleep out here." San couldn't carry Mingi like he did with Wooyoung so it was amusing to see the tall giant's body slumped onto San's.

"Yah. We're going to fall. Wake up for a bit." San stumbled from Mingi putting his entire weight on him.

"Let me help." You stood up but Yunho grasped the end of your shirt to stop you.

"No. Don't go." He stopped you, the frown still on his face.

"I got it, (y/n). Don't worry!" San waved you off and brought Mingi to his room. You sighed and sat back down. Yunho grinned, happy he managed to 'persuade' you to stay with him. Considering San didn't come back out, you assumed he slept in Mingi's room.

"Oh... There's no more." Hongjoong pouted when there was only a measly drop that came out of the soju bottle.

"Good. Let's get all of you to bed." You patted Yunho's head before going to help them. Jongho, although drunk, seemed to comprehend instructions the most out of all of them.

"Alright, this way." You guided Jongho to the room and helped him get into his bed.

"Goodnight." Jongho yawned. You smiled and patted his hand then went to check on Wooyoung before coming back out.

"Yeosang~" You waved a hand in front of his face. He just stared at you, his eyes glazed over as he swayed a little. With some encouragement, you managed to get him to stand up.

"Where... are... we... going...?" Yeosang blinked in confusion.

"Going to your bed to sleep." You replied. You carefully helped him into his bed but he just sat there. So you laid him down on his pillow, on his side, and covered him with his blanket. Whether he will actually sleep or continue to stare at the wall in a drunken daze was not something you could change.

"Last one, Hongjoong. Let's go." You patted his shoulder.

"No!" Hongjoong turned his chin up in defiance, crossing his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Joong, there's no more alcohol anyway. If you don't go to bed now, I'm going to leave you here all by yourself. You can sleep here." You raised an eyebrow.

"No~" He whined. You held your hand out to him. He sighed, shoulder slumping in disappointment.

"Fine." He had a look of disappointement on his face but still slipped his hand into yours. You put your arm around his waist to support him.

"There we go." You pulled the blanket up to his chest.

"We'll get more tomorrow, alright? If you're up for it." You coaxed not sure why you were giving in when he's drunk and wouldn't even remember his tomorrow.

"Promise?" He held his pinky up. You nodded and laced pinkies with him, making him smile in satisfaction. Before leaving to go back to Yunho in the living room, you went to check on Seonghwa again, being Hongjoong's roommate.

"That leaves us, Yun." You yawned. Yunho reached out to hold your hand quickly, grasping it with two hands.

"Don't leave me again." He commanded.

"Okay, I won't." You patted the back of his hand. By some sort of luck, you managed to get Yunho up the stairs unharmed. He leaned against the wall.

"Come." You led him to the bathroom. You gave him mouthwash to rinse and spit since he can't brush his teeth.

"Go to bed. I'm going to shower." You ushered him to bed.

"Okay." He nodded and yawned, falling onto the pillow. You quickly showered and brushed your teeth, that helped you sober right up. You climbed into bed with Yunho after drying your hair.

"Still awake?" You asked. He hummed and turned around to face you but made not effort to close the gap between the two of you. Even when he was flat out drunk, Yunho wouldn't miss any chance to cuddle you and have you as physically close to his body as he could. You shot him a questioning look.

"I'm mad at you. So no cuddles." He declared, reminding you of a child like how Hongjoong was earlier.

"And why are you mad?"

"Because... I saw you... You put your arm... around Hongjoong hyung's... waist. You... cheated... on me..." He accused, squinting his eyes at you.

"I didn't cheat on you. I was just helping him to the room. He's drunk, like you are." You pointed out.

"I'm not drunk. And that is cheating." He corrected.

"Fine. Be that way, stay mad." You shrugged, turning off the light on your nightstand and laying on your pillow to sleep. You missed the way Yunho's jaw dropped, not expecting that.

"You're lucky I love you." He mumbled as he pressed himself to your back, wrapping his long arms around you.

"I know, I am very lucky. And I love you too." You lifted to his hand to kiss to back of it. Yunho let out a little snicker to show his happiness, snuggling his face into the back of your head to show you affection like a puppy.

"Go to sleep, Yun." You murmured. Soon enough, you heard his little snores by your ear, signifying that he had really fallen asleep. It lulled you to sleep too.

"Ugh my head." You were woken up by Yunho's groan as he rolled away from you.

"Come here..." You sleepily called out to him, turning around. He turned back to you, resting his head against your chest.

"You need to drink a lot of water, you're dehydrated." You said, massaging the back of his neck to help him relieve some of the pain in the back of his neck. He melted at your touch.

"I'm never drinking so much again." He groaned.

"You always say that... Feel better?" You yawned. You felt him nod as you continued your actions.

"We should get up soon. You need a warm shower, have some food and water in your stomach. It'll make you feel better before going back to sleep." You said, stroking his hair. He shook his head in refusal, tightening his grip on you, bunching the material of your shirt in his hands on your back.

"Come on. After that you can spend the whole day in bed." You patted his shoulder to persuade him. Yunho reluctantly got up, sitting up and yawning.

"You go first, love." He nodded over to the bathroom. You hummed, going to shower and brush your teeth.

"Yunho, I'm done." You came out to see him sleeping faced down.

"Yun~ Wake up." You shook him lightly. He nodded and sat up, sliding out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. Once you heard the water running, you left the room to go downstairs.

"Oh, everyone's here." You blinked. Jongho was at the stove, cooking a big pot of rice porridge.

"(y/n), sorry for disappearing on you last night. I must have passed out because I woke up cuddling Mingi." San apologised.

"No worries, San. Thanks for helping me with getting everyone to bed." You giggled. Everyone else was strewn around the living room, too hungover for a conversation right now. You poured yourself and Yunho a cold coffee.

"You were the one that helped us to our rooms?" Yeosang asked. You nodded your head.

"San carried Wooyoung and moved Mingi. I moved everyone else, one by one. Safe to say, it was very interesting and rather eventful." You laughed.

"Stop right there, I don't want to know how bad it was." Seonghwa winced, laying his head in your lap as you drank your coffee.

"You were all very adorable." You giggled. In response, there were multiple jeers and protests from the room.

"Ugh." Yunho trudged down my stairs.

"There's my golden retriever." You teasingly cooed. He glared at you, going to get the coffee that you left on the counter for him. He sat beside Mingi since Seonghwa's legs occupied the couch you were on.

"But for real, (y/n). Since you were sober, who is the cutest drunk? Me, right?" Wooyoung snuggled to your other side from the arm rest, making you and Seonghwa groan, having to scoot down slightly to accommodate him squeezing onto the couch. You raised an eyebrow at him, shaking your head.

"Cutest is Yeosang. He's so dazed, it was absolutely adorable. Then he would sway from side to side like this with his head." You mimicked Yeosang last night while giggling.

"Y-Yah (y/n). Don't go exposing people like that." Yeosang called out, his cheeks turning red.

"I'm not the cutest?" Yunho said in disbelief.

"You and Hongjoong were the whiniest. Gosh, like trying to put 5 year olds to bed. Had to pinky promise Hongjoong to give him more alcohol today." You raised an eyebrow.

"Hahaha that's so funny, hyung! You're legit a little kid." Mingi and San burst out laughing, keeling over.

"Stop it, (y/n)~" Hongjoong shook his head with despair, covering his ears, not wanting to listen to your exposé anymore.

"And Yunho wouldn't cuddle me because he was mad and throwing a tantrum. Said he saw me cheating on him with Hongjoong." You rolled your eyes. Hongjoong and Yunho both choked on their coffees, coughing violently.

"What?" Yunho squeaked.

"You kept whining about me leaving your side to help the others to bed. And you said the way I support Hongjoong to his room was basically me cheating on you." You scoffed.

"Please no more..." Yunho cried out. Jongho saved everyone by announcing that the food was done.

"I wasn't mad the whole night, right?" Yunho leaned over to ask you in a hushed voice.

"No. You weren't happy that I accepted you being mad and came to cuddle me right away. I would say you gave up in about 20 seconds?" You chuckled.

"Good. Because I would hate my drunk self for giving up any opportunity to cuddle with you." He laughed.

"Oh, Yun..." You melted, shaking your head and reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"Thanks for cooking, Jongho." Everyone chimed. You and Yunho decided to sit outside at the deck table with your bowls of hot porridge. The others didn't join you, to give you two some space as a couple and because the glare of the sun was not helping the hangover headaches.

"This is relaxing. How's the hangover?" You asked him.

"It's good. I bounce back a little better than the rest. And I have a great nurse to take care of me." He teased. You scoffed and nudged him.

"I know you've been stressing about your employee contract ending, haven't you?" He suddenly spoke. Your hand paused in mixing your food as you slowly turned to look at him.

"I know you well. And I've been thinking about it too." He smiled softly, eyes leaving yours to look at the shore in front of you.

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deluwoo · 7 months

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★ movies — lee heeseung x f!reader

pairing ▸ lee heeseung x f!reader genre ▸ fluff, slight suggestive(?) warnings ▸ light profanity (word bitching mentioned once), [ lmk if there's any more ! :3 ] wc ▸ 546

yuno's notes ▸ i can finally get more stuff done after exams woohoo !!

the soft sounds of the dialogue and faint light from the television fill the room as your boyfriend's firm arm pulls you in closer, letting out a content sigh and keeping his gaze on the illuminated screen. for the past few hours, you'd been having a cute little at-home movie marathon date with him, cuddled up with the thick blanket draped over you both as you lay in bed together.

currently, you're watching some cliche romcom that heeseung "hated" doing, reasoning that romcoms are boring and corny; he ended up sitting through it and a few more romcoms because, sweetly, he loves you and would sit through anything just to be with you.

although he continued to make snarky remarks at cringy scenes, you found it adorable how he so easily got heated up over a drawn out kiss scene or an unreasonable choice a character makes. he actually seemed to be enjoying himself despite his constant bitching and sarcastic comments; you could even swear you had caught him grinning widely at one of the "cringy" scenes.

"just kiss already, damn it! they obviously like each other, what are they waiting for?" he exclaims, his eyebrows furrowing in his frustration.

"calm down, babe. we still have half an hour left," he groans and looks down at you with a worn expression, as if begging you to do something to magically make the couple in the film get together faster.

you laugh at how worked up he's gotten again and lean into his chest, going back to watching the movie as he calms down enough to pull you back in and stay quiet, for now.

as yet another melodramatic kiss scene shows on screen, he looks down at you, grumbling and leaning down against you. the space between the two of your faces is almost nonexistent.

"mm, baby, these movies are so cheesy and overdramatic.. we should show them how it's really done," he suggests in a hushed voice, closing the gap and connecting your lips with his in a soft but lasting kiss.

it was nothing too intense, but the way he ever so gently caressed the side of your face and his soft lips on yours kept it lingering and made you long for more even after your lips parted from each other.

everything else became background noise and your surroundings faded to black; it felt like you two were the only two people in the universe at this moment and you could almost hear a romantic song in the background. it felt like a movie, except it was so much better because it was you and your lover. your lover who you treasured and adored more than anything in the world.

"my precious girl," he mumbles at a volume only for you to hear. he tucks a strand of hair straying away behind your ear and smiles at you lovingly with a look of genuine affection and endearment. “i love you so much, you know that, right?”

he never failed to bring a stupid smile on your face and turn your cheeks red in the blink of an eye. you look at him fondly and plant another enduring kiss on his lips, forgetting about the movie altogether.

screw the movie; this was much better.

reblog for + 0.0000000001% to date heeseung <33 ©yuno © DELUWOO – 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

#from: yuno 🎧#kpop #★ deluwoo #enhypen au #enhypen #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung fluff #heeseung ff

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peachy-posy · 8 months

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Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: After putting yourself in a dangerous situation, you and Vash have one of your first major arguments.

A/N: Third Trigun fic, woohoo! This was my first time writing something with the 98 versions of characters specifically in mind, so I hope everything feels in character! I tried my best hehe Last chapter will have smut (my first time writing any hhhh), minors DNI!!! Cross-posted to my AO3 <3

Chapter Tags: Established relationship, canon-typical violence, minor violence/injuries, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.1k

Traveling with only men is decidedly… not very fun, in your opinion. At least not the ones you're with. You lean your head in your hands, listening vaguely as Vash and Wolfwood argue between themselves in their good-natured, but annoying way. You tuned them out about half an hour ago when the conversation started heading in that argumentative direction.

You miss Milly and Meryl. When the boys start debating and arguing, the three of you have your own conversation, laughing and joking with each other. The insurance girls had been sent to a neighboring town several days ago, promising to meet back up with you three in a week or so. That day could not come sooner.

Your eyes, which have been glazed over for some time now, focus as Wolfwood huffs, leaning back in his chair. Vash does the same, but you don’t feel any real malice between them as usual. Seems like they are finally done.

You glance over at the blonde, feeling his turquoise eyes on you.

“Everything okay, Mayfly?” He questions with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You smile, even as Wolfwood groans something to the effect of ‘Oh, here we go.’

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about Meryl and Milly,” you answer, prompting a bright smile from Vash at the mention of the two girls.

“Aw, what, we aren’t fun enough for ya, sweetheart?” Wolfwood asks, his tone teasing.

You glance at him tiredly. “Unfortunately not. Sorry.”

He feigns hurt, over-exaggerating his reaction. “You wound me!” Vash chuckles to your side, and you share an amused smile with him. This ramps up the theatrics from the preacher, and he looks at Vash. “How can you lie down and take this? You’re included in that statement, you know.”

Vash shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Your heart flutters at the action.

“Oh, please. Get a room,” Wolfwood remarks. You can’t help but snort, even as Vash puffs up.

As he begins to reply, gunshots echo from somewhere outside: perhaps near the town square. You jump, slightly surprised, and Vash’s hold on your hand tightens as he hears shouting from outside.

You know what comes next.

Wolfwood grabs his Punisher, stretching casually as he stands. Vash stands as well, walking over to you briskly, kneeling at your side. He takes you by your shoulders, locking eyes with you, and calls your name.

“You’ll be okay on your own for a bit, right? Don’t come out unless one of us comes for you.”

“I know the drill, Vash. Be careful,” you reassure, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He smiles against your lips, able to get lost in the moment, but only for... well, a moment. More gunshots and screams ring out, and he stands up with renewed urgency, meeting Wolfwood at the entrance with long strides.

Vash glances at you one last time before exiting. You blink and the two are gone, leaving you behind in the old tavern. The few patrons that were there as well had gone to investigate the commotion, leaving you alone.

You sigh, unwanted frustration with your situation bubbling up in your chest. Unfortunately, it’s like this all the time. After all, you aren’t some incredible, talented gunslinger. You’re just a healer in love with one.

You slowly stand up, leaving the table you three had been occupying, scrutinizing the room for a good place to hide. After a few minutes, you find yourself a nice little spot behind the bar. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’ll do.

You lower yourself to the floor, preparing yourself for the waiting game. You wonder how long it’ll take for them to come back today. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour?

You hear more gunfire and shouting in the distance, and you try your best to ignore it for now, despite the uneasiness settling in your chest. There’s nothing you can do for anyone until the danger is over. You know that this general course of action is what is safest for you. You hide yourself away, waiting for the ‘all clear,’ then tend to any and all wounded people who happen to get caught up in whatever happens, a reassuring smile plastered on your face all the while. This is how you do your part in the small group you’ve found yourself in.

It also allows Vash to not be worried about your safety while actively dodging bullets.

You’d worked in a small clinic before meeting the Humanoid Typhoon what feels like ages ago. Your role as a doctor’s assistant made you happy at the time; it made you feel fulfilled and helpful. And it still does!

That said, you sometimes find yourself wishing that you could protect others the way Vash and Wolfwood can. Not that you want to throw yourself into the fray of battle, but you hate feeling so… useless at times like this when the fighting first breaks out. Weak. Like something that needs to be tucked away and protected.

Vash adores that you are a healer. He’ll sometimes sit with you on quiet nights, his fingers rubbing affectionate circles into your hands while he holds them, saying that your hands were made for saving people. You tell him that his hands were too, but he denies it every single time. He says his hands were made for violence. For destruction.

You couldn’t disagree more.

Not when you see all of the good he does, protecting those around him with the very hands he swears will bring destruction to everything they touch.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the sound of a bullet ricocheting particularly close by. You hold your breath, trying to gauge how far away the person who fired it is. You can hear voices in the distance that sound closer than wherever the main incident is. You bite your lip, considering if you are hidden well enough. Slowly, you begin to notice the sounds of… crying?

You know Vash doesn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but what exactly would looking through a window do? Besides, the crying sounds too much like a child for your comfort.

You rise slowly from behind the bar, finding your resolve to investigate. Making your way over to a nearby window on light feet, you carefully peek outside. At first, there is nothing that you can see. Suddenly, though, a small child running down the street comes into view. He’s crying, dust coating his hands and knees. He’s bleeding from a few small cuts that you can see from your current view of him, but otherwise seems physically unharmed.

You gasp as the boy trips, tumbling hard into the dusty ground. He sucks in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. In the blink of an eye, four men concealing their faces with bandanas are upon the boy, one of them grabbing him roughly.

The child shrieks, thrashing in the man’s hold. To your horror, another one of the men points a gun at him. He can’t be more than five years old. The sight of it makes you nauseated.

“You’re gonna regret running, you damn brat,” one of the men rasps angrily at the sobbing child.

“Bring him back to where the other townspeople are. Make sure you don’t lose any this time,” one of the other men orders.

“G-got it,” one of them replies nervously.

“If it happens again, it’s your head.”

It seems like this gang took some hostages when they got here, and this boy escaped. You can’t let them take him back. They don’t seem to have any issue shooting him, as you heard that gunshot earlier as they chased him. Your hands are trembling and clammy, but you know you have to do something.

But with what? You don’t have a weapon. You desperately look around the tavern, and your eyes land on a knife and empty bottles. Acting quickly, you grab one of each, a messy and dangerous plan forming as you go.

All you have working for you is the element of surprise. You can’t fight, but you know where to hit someone to make it count due to your medical training. You just hope you’re fast enough.

You look outside once more, and you notice that two of the men are gone. The other two that remain are talking to one another for the time being, distracted. One holds the child in a punishing grip, surely causing bruises to form on his small wrist. He's wailing in earnest, despite the captors' barking at him to quit.

It’s now or never. You open the door as quietly as you can manage, gripping the bottle. You’ll have to hit one of the men as hard as you can in the head with the bottle, then use the knife you’d pocketed to strike the other. Your plan is to slash the ligaments behind the knee, immobilizing the person. The bottle isn’t very ideal, but you’re worried your lack of skill with a knife will cause you to accidentally lose the weapon in a body if you try to use it for both men.

Unfortunately, you know your plan has little chance of success. Once you attack one, the other knows you’re there. Your best bet is to incapacitate the one holding the child first and to assess in the moment if you can deal with the other. There is a large chance you’ll just have to grab the kid and run as fast as you can, hoping you find Vash or Wolfwood if you make it to the town square. You look down at the threshold of the tavern, trying to will your legs to move forward. Your body is frozen, unable to walk outside.

Suddenly, one of the men turns on his heels, striding back down the street where they originally came from. That gets you moving.

You hide yourself behind the door hastily, praying you haven’t been spotted. Several terrifying moments pass where you wait for them to descend upon you. You can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your head, throbbing in anticipation of the worst.

The attack never comes. They haven’t seen you.

You can’t believe your stroke of luck. You may actually be able to pull off incapacitating a single person, even with your limited capabilities in combat.

You carefully set the bottle on the ground, reaching for the knife you grabbed. You peek around the door, eyes finding the man and boy immediately. The man is yanking the child, trying to get him to cooperate. His back is towards the tavern.

You grip the kitchen knife firmly, trying to control your shaking hands as you emerge from behind the door. You approach as swiftly and quietly as you can, soon finding yourself within striking distance of your target.

Just slash the back of his knee. He shouldn’t be able to chase you if you tear a ligament.

Steeling yourself, you aim for the back of the man’s knee, slashing with as much force as you can muster.

You know you succeeded when he howls in pain, immediately letting go of the child and grabbing his knee, falling to the sandy, dusty street. He is bleeding, gripping his knee tightly, and he turns to look at you with a shocked glare, his eyes filled with malice.

You drop the knife in shock, your bloody hands making you nauseous.

Time to go!

The child is pale, shaking like a leaf as you scoop him into your arms. The man shouts from the ground, and you see him start fumbling around, looking for something.

“Get back here! You bitch!”

You turn on your heels, sprinting as fast as your legs can go. You hear a deafening gunshot, flinching as a bullet hits the dirt nearby. You realize that he had been trying to get his gun, and unfortunately for you, he found it.

He shoots again, but you have already begun weaving as you run, hoping to throw his aim off. The child is clutching onto you fiercely, burying his head into your shoulder. More bullets hit the ground around you, and your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. As you turn the nearest street corner, you find yourself shocked and relieved your plan is working. You just might actually be able to save this child.

Your thoughts come to an abrupt, violent halt when you notice a dark blur in your periphery. A man slams his gun into your head with a snarl, and you are thrown towards the ground. On your way down, you attempt to shield the boy as best you can, wrapping your arms around him tightly and trying to absorb the shock of slamming into the ground. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you collide into the street with a groan of pain. Your head is swimming, but you unwrap your arms, trying to sit up as quickly as possible and get the boy to his feet. He seems relatively unharmed, but terribly shaken up.

“Run! Now!” You scream, and he thankfully listens.

He darts off, right as the man reaches you. You see him start to move after the boy, but you lunge for and grab one of his legs, causing him to stumble with curses spilling from his lips. He whips his head down to look at you, and you do your best to not recoil from his gaze.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scowls, kicking you off him. You gasp, hitting the ground once more with a painful thud. Your ears ring, and your vision is blurring.

“Just who do you think you are?” He kneels in front of you, gripping your shirt’s collar and yanking you up. You whimper in pain, your head throbbing as he jostles you.

“I hope it was worth it. You can take his place.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie, managing to catch his eyes. Truth be told, you're terrified. But you’d never tell this scumbag that.

He lets out a low, threatening laugh. Chills race down your spine. “Oh, you aren’t very smart, are you?” He laughs again, gripping your collar tightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. I’m still deciding. How about I rough you up a little till then?”

You feel the burn of tears in your eyes, and blink quickly to dispel them before they can form. You refuse to cry in front of him.

You desperately hope the boy is safe. You’re so close to the town square. Vash and Wolfwood should be right near here.

Through your blurring vision and pounding head, you see the man rear his hand back. You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself.

Instead of feeling the collision of his hand, you hear a sharp intake of breath. You crack open your eyes hesitantly, vision blurring.

Your breath is pulled from your lungs, tears of relief flowing immediately. Because even with blurring vision, you are able to recognize the long, red coat blowing in the wind. Standing behind the man who tackled you is Vash. He’s holding the man by the wrist, and he looks furious .

“Vash,” you breathe out, voice trembling.

The man drops you from his grip, and you fall into the ground, immediately using your heels to scoot away from him. After blinking several times to focus, you take a good look at Vash. You’ve never seen him so angry before. The hand he’s using to grip the wrist of your assailant is trembling with restraint..

“I-I know you! You’re Vash the Stampede!” The man realizes with wide eyes, his face pale.

Vash says nothing, his eyes narrowing. The man continues his nervous rambling.

“L-look, I didn’t… we didn’t know you were here. If you want this town, it’s all yours. We’ll leave.”

You hold your breath, watching to see what Vash does next. Your heart aches for him, knowing that he is bothered by the rumors that precede him. That said, that infamous reputation is pretty convenient right now.

Vash uses his gun to knock out the man without a word. He immediately goes limp, crumpling to the ground as Vash releases his wrist. You release the breath you’d been holding, noting the pain in your head and body, but mostly feel great relief. Vash’s gaze remains trained on the unconscious form before him, his expression complicated. Several beats of silence pass, and you feel yourself becoming slightly anxious. Why hasn’t he said anything this entire time?

“Vash?” You call hesitantly, voice quiet.

Your voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes flicker up to yours, relief washing over his features as he races forward, throwing himself on his knees in front of you.

“Oh Mayfly, god, look what they did to you,” the words spill from his mouth as he holds you in a bone crushing hug to his chest.

You let yourself be cradled in his arms, disappointed slightly when he pulls back after a moment. He looks pained.

“Your head,” he murmurs, hand gently reaching for your temple. You hiss when his fingers graze the throbbing, painful area. He retracts his hand, the blood on his gloved fingertips making you realize you’re bleeding.

“I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, holding you close again.

You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to ignore the dizziness it causes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my-”

The words die on your tongue as you hear a familiar voice chattering animatedly around the corner. Both you and Vash turn to face the noise, seeing Wolfwood strolling around the corner of the building nearby, holding a child in his arms. You feel the tension drain from your body fully at the sight of the familiar little boy unharmed.

You hastily stumble to your feet, trying to get over to him, doing your best to ignore the dizziness that overtakes you from the sudden movement. Vash scrambles after you, holding onto you as you sway.

“Easy, easy! I think you have a concussion,” Vash implores, but you press forward stubbornly.

The child sees you, squirming from Wolfwood’s grasp to reach you. With dried tears on his face, he looks up at you with big, worried eyes. You feel Vash’s hand at the small of your back, gently steadying you.

“Well, looks like we found her! Good job, bud!” Wolfwood praises, ruffling the kid’s hair.

A bright smile forms on his little face. He reaches out and snatches your hand.

“Come help me find my mommy!”

#trigun #vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun 98 #trigun stampede #peachy writes!

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jellazticious · 2 months

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“You can’t rush art”

I think everybody can recall the quote from Toy Story 2. From the most satisfying part of the movie where we see a montage of Woody getting restored by a toy maker. It’s one of my favourites too, I absolutely loved looking at the different procedures used to fix a single toy. The toymaker’s precision and care were found mesmerizing by everyone. As a multi-hatted artist, one that can draw, sculpt, animate, and write, I can say that it’s spot on that there’s so much to do for a single piece of work. HOOO boy, you should see how me and Beefy are organizing Cursed to Charm, there’s so much.

For the upcoming webcomic, we design characters, give each and every one of them their stand-alone story, design different clothes, create the map, draw renders and posters, polish scripts for the episodes, plan to program the comic’s own website, make the backgrounds eventually, etc. To people who aren’t artists or take art for granted, to them, art is stroking a paper using a pen and BAM instant masterpiece. No no, it’s more than that.

Another thing I’d like to say about the comic is that the progress is very slow yet very fruitful because of the time taken. Me and my co-author came up with the idea at late November, which makes the comic four months old now. However, with all that time passed, we have already finalized the list of nine episodes of season one. We have also written seven out of nine summaries from that season before actually writing the dialogue in detail. We have a rough four seasons worth of story progression in the span of four months. Nyeh, excuse the little ramble about CtC, I’m just giving insight of how much should be done for the production of anything which leads us to the next point.

Art production in general.

Movies, animation, shows, video games, books, comics etc etc

All of these are part of art, some people would deny because it isn’t sophisticated like they’re lead to believe art is supposed to be. Art is literally just creation man, can’t get any simpler than that 😩 if you made something, then you made something woohoo! Congratulations you made art, cooking included. It came free with your fucking humanity.

Anyway, just like the webcomic, every single one of these listed also have a set of different procedures that will piece together the final output.

Let’s take Disney movies as a specific example, I want to talk about something real quick.

So one time, I was watching Tarzan with my parents and we stuck around for the end credits. My mom pointed out the animators are divided into sections and there’s so much names on them. There are different teams of animators for each character and these teams are divided in two for the storyboarders and the clean up artists. When the credits rolled a bit more, it showed that the background artists and colorists also have their own sections too. There’s so much people working on different body parts of a movie. I got the habit of reading end credits of every movie I watch, animated or live action, then I would compare the credits of old and new movies. Boy, let me tell you that the work space on old movies are FILLED compared to newer movies. One thing I noticed about Disney movies although, is that the old movies have more sections compared to new ones. The major difference of old Disney and new Disney are the length of the credits and the time gap of the movies. I’m really not trusting the way new movies have way shorter end credits while the publish time of new movies are getting narrower and narrower. Before the 2000s, movies usually come out twice a year and sometimes there’s a two-year hiatus before the next batch of movies are published. Now there’s at least two or three movies that publish yearly while also releasing a bunch of shows in the middle of it. I really don’t understand business talk with the way it sacrifices quality over quantity. Like I get having money is great and all but what’s the use of hoarding it? Especially when there’s so much news of people about to be in poverty and mass layoffs. Why should companies earn money if they’re not going to redistribute it back to the economy at all? This is a little off topic but I want to point it out that people in the 80s used to buy whole houses by being a janitor but nowadays people could barely afford a one room apartment even with three jobs. The Simpsons is an example of this because it was set in the 90s and the family is constantly reminded of how “poor” they are. They even created an episode that talks about the same job that supported people’s fathers will no longer support you nowadays (Poorhouse Rock ep22 s33). It’s fishy and I’m salty about it especially because I hear so much people complaining about how they’re not being given a chance to work. Anywho! Let’s go back to art.

I’m just spitballing my thoughts here but somehow they’re connecting either way. All I’m trying to say is that for the people who care so much about the quality of art, it’s noticeable that they get downgraded, not just by the look but by the way they’re written.

Example.

Clone High.

Jesus Christ, the new show is a nightmare and an insult to the original Clone High. The difference is clear with this one. The original Clone High was heavy satire of every single high school trope used in shows and movies. Every single character was meant to have one personality and that personality is the butt of the joke. The original did not care about making the characters appealing because the appeal is found in the way they interact, they clash so much and a lot of them are idiots. The writing is funny because the dialogue flows so easily unlike the renewal. The renewed Clone High takes itself too seriously and it tries too hard to be relevant. It’s funny to me that fans can draw the original’s art style more accurately than the animators hired. What’s even more frustrating is that concept art was released from the art head and the concept art looked way better than what they decided on the final designs. Other than the art style that tries to be marketable, the writing is insufferable with the way they try to be “relatable” without understanding why the original jokes were funny to begin with.

Now we’re all familiar with this cheap tactic of using the title of successful franchises to grab clicks and views. It’s every live action Disney film, it happened to Scooby Doo, Marvel shows, FNAF, some Cartoon Network shows, Megamind, and now even Kung Fu Panda. Basically MILKING. It would have been better if the productions TRIED to understand the original’s intentions which they forgot about. They ended up being disappointing at best and soulless at worst. I won’t be explaining much cuz I’ve already reached the minimum word count lmao. I’m just rambling here, I better not see anyone interrogate me in asks or replies. ANYWAY, I’m gonna get to the point real quick.

Back to the quote at the start of the post, people tend to forget that. Art is a skill, not a button people press and it gives you pretty pictures or videos. Art is a job and an effort. While art is subjective and it differs from person to person, one thing for certain is that art that is made ingenuinely will never be better than art that is made because the artist loves art. This is why the Tom & Jerry reboots with the lineless art style even if they had a storyboard artist who understood the cartoon wackiness (which were discarded for a “cleaner” and faster style). This is why it’s so frustrating to see concept art of movies which have more appeal than the final 3d models. This is why FNAF Security Breach was nearly unplayable.

Because they all rushed art.

They rushed in favour of what is marketable, no matter how unappealing it is. Everything could have been better, some final products are good, but all of them could have been better. As good as what were released pre 2010s when production had a passion. You can’t spell heart without art.

I’m just really passionate about art in any form since it’s everything that created me too. I will not be here at this point in time if it weren’t for me learning that there’s so much beauty in the world if you could just squint and appreciate why that’s so. I’m defined by my works and it only hurts and infuriates me that people who have the ability and accessibility to create better art than I do waste it for their personal gain or selfish intentions. Everyone could be a better person because of art just as it did to me. Again, it came to us the moment we’re born, art isn’t just a pretty picture, it’s everything we create out of love, passion, time, and effort.

But really, to the wise words of Chef Saltbaker, “like any good bake, heart and soul is the secret ingredient”

You can’t rush art.

#Jell tells wisdom #<-keeping it PG #I wrote this

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w-wolfhard · 5 months

Note

hi would u write for rodrick heffley? i’m living off of crumbs lmaoooo

paring : rodrick heffley x f!reader.

warning(s) : none.

a/n : yall oh em gee i havent been on tumblr in so long holy shit😭 missed y'all😪 also i'm writing f!reader cus thats what im used to but if ya need me to write it differently i could try and do so 🫡🫡

in which y/n & rodrick try to bake cookies for a thanksgiving party but fail horribly.

it was thanksgiving weekend and rodrick's family next door was throwing a party. everyone had to bring a dish if they wanted to enter, so there you were; in your house next door, trying to bake a batch of last minute cookies with rodrick.

he pulled out the cookie dough from the fridge, slapping the package on the counter, "soooo.." he sighed. "do you know how to do this?" rodrick questioned, looking at the package of cookie dough as if it were a question from his previous math test.

"sure i do!" you said hesitantly. "you just have to– i dunno." you sighed as well.

"well okay.. that's fine. that's alright! neither of us know how to bake fucking cookies but that's decent!" he tried to be enthusiastic but he just sounded stupid.

"rodrick no, we're being fucking dumb. we don't even have to make the cookie dough. how are we gonna fuck this up if the cookie dough is already made?!" you rambled, slapping the cookie dough.

"i don't know man! it's you and i, and we could never cook!"

"we've never even tried cooking, dumbass!" you slapped your forehead. "y'know what, directions exist for a reason; let's read the directions." you told him, taking a deep breath.

"nuh-uh! directions are for babies, y/n. we're highschoolers, we can do this without that dumb shit." he scoffed.

"yeah, we're highschoolers that don't know how to bake cookies," you bit the inside of your cheek. "if you don't wanna read the directions then be the director! go on, i'll follow."

"fine! then i will," he folded his arms. "why dont we just roll up the cookie dough into a ball, place it on a paper plate then pop it in the oven?" he said proudly. "ya ever thought of that smartass?"

"i'm glad i haven't, 'cause what in the world kind of plan was that. you sound like a kindergartener rodrick." you narrowed your eyes at him and he looked at you offended. "seriously?! a big ball of cookie dough, on a paper plate, in the oven? we'll blow up or something!"

"will not!" he argued.

"gosh, i'm dating someone insane," you muttered.

"well do you got a better plan? 'cause if you do, i'd like to hear it." rodrick scoffed.

"how 'bout we, i dunno, read the directions?"

he groaned, giving in. "fine. just so we can get this over with so we could finally feast back at my house."

you chuckled and picked up the package, reading what it says; step #1 – get a trey. step #2 – put small pieces of dough onto the trey. step #3 – bake the cookies in the oven at 350° for 10-12 minutes. step #4 – take them out let them sit for a bit & feast on your cookies!

"that's basically what i said—"

"that's the complete opposite of what you said." you cut him off, shaking your head. you both did as the directions said; rodrick handed you the trey and you covered it with parchment paper while rodrick was preheating the oven. you and rodrick made small balls of dough together and placed them on the trey, spaced out good enough.

once they finished doing all that, rodrick popped the trey of cookies into the oven and closed it. once they finished, they pumped their fists in the air, celebrating. "woohoo! we so just did that!" you gave him a high five.

"definitely! i can't wait for them to be done!"

"yup, then we can finally go to your place and feast on the funnel cake your mom made." you licked your lips.

you both cheered and went over to the couch in your living room and watched tv. you guys were so indulged in the movie that was playing that you forgot about the cookies. except the smell reminded the both of you. "rodrick! the cookies!" it's definitely been over 10-12 minutes since you guys last popped those in the oven.

"fuckfuckfuck" rodrick hurriedly took out the cookies which looked burnt but still looked edible. you both sighed, "well we tried?"

"did we rodrick, did we?"

"yes we did." he nodded slowly. " atleast that's what we'll tell them," he chortled, grabbing two paper plates and stacking the cookies on it neatly, he made his way to the front door while you followed. he handed you one of the plates, as he unlocked the front door, "after you m'lady."

"never call me that again," you both laughed and he shut the door behind him locking it. he picked a cookie from the top of the stack, "cheers to shitty cookies on thanksgiving?"

you chuckled and grabbed the cookie on the top of your stack, "cheers to shitty cookies on thanksgiving." you clinged your cookies together and then took a bite.

god were they burnt.

you both forced yourselves to choke it down. "i'll stick to your mom's funnel cake." you sighed as rodrick unlocked his front door.

"yeah same."

susan answered with a grin, "hello y/n! come in, come in!" she stared down at your cookies and her grin morphed into a different look, "are those edible?" she motioned to the cookies in your guys' hands.

"well yeah, but i advise that you don't eat them. leave it to the little ones to chow it down." you snorted and rodrick nodded in agreement.

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x y/n #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk #doawk rodrick #✿┊𝐬𝐞𝐛'𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬!

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Text

Starboy

● PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

● SUMMARY: When on one day Mr. Bateman came to your office, you never knew how far it could go.

● WARNINGS: Implied flirt, seduction, small innocent touches, sweet-talker Patrick Bateman himself, minor possessive behaviour.

● WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

● A/N: One more prequel about Patrick and his little Cupcake, I enjoy writing their backstory so much! Btw, I was inspired by this American Psycho edit. As always, I hope you like this chapter!💕

● SONG REC: The Weeknd - Starboy✨

● LINKS: [Sweet like a Cupcake Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

The days after that “little accident” with Mr. Bateman felt like a horrible nightmare.

You were constantly thinking about losing your job, strolling around your office and watching the sun's rays breaking through the window. What if you just stayed silent and let him ground you into the dirt, soaking up all the shit he was saying–would your boss be satisfied with you then?

The click of the door opening caught your attention before Cindy’s sonorous voice reached your ear. “(Y/N), we should go get coffee! Our favorite barista finally came back. Woohoo, no more shitty coffee!”

With a dull smile on your face, you tapped the papers on your desk. “I need to finish this by the afternoon.” You looked over the documents again, and then sighed. “Just go without me.”

She whined, disappointment clear in her voice, and when you looked at her, she was already standing in the doorway, checking the time on her watch. “I’ll just rush, so our coffee won’t get cold. Do you want a latte or cappuccino?”

“Dealer’s choice,” you chuckled and took your place at the deck. “Just… Don't spill it… Okay?”

“Alright, alright…”

Then she walked away, leaving you alone in your office again. Back to work.

Leafing through the documents was a kind of meditation for you–it helped soothe your mind, distracting you from obsessive thoughts.

Your edits were quick, slashing across the page, adding notes in the margin with a well-loved red pen. The door opened again. “What did you forget this time?” you asked, not looking up. “Cindy, could you also bring me a cupcake–”

“Good afternoon.” A familiar, tenor voice caused your whole body to taut like a string. You knew who it was before you even looked up.

Ever hauntingly perfect, Patrick Bateman was standing in the doorway, casting a studying glance at you. You stood up abruptly, anticipating nothing but the worst. He might really be so vindictive to come in person with your termination notice.

“(Y/N), isn’t it?” he asked smoothly, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, attempting to sound as confident as you could. “How can I help you, sir?”

“First, call me Patrick,” he gave you his most cocky snow-white smile, roaming around your office and getting closer to your desk. “And please, relax. I’m not here to fire you.”

The corners of your mouth twitched slightly, but that didn’t really ease the tension. His presence here was making you feel weirdly thrilled.

"As you wish, sir, but I’m afraid that a first-name basis breaks the subordination rules of our company,” you pressed the pen against the tabletop, leaning a bit on your other hand. “Penalties are strictly enforced for things like that.”

Amused, Bateman was standing in front of your table, so the smell of his cologne easily hit your nose. “Our previous meeting was… Well, it was horrible as hell,” he said, watching you nervously rap the pen. “I just want to apologize, and I hope you’ll let me take you to lunch, at least.”

With a sharp click, your pen flew away in an unknown direction, but you just ignored that, continuing to act naturally. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I usually don’t have time to eat, 'cause I’m pretty busy and–” you stammered a bit as only now you noticed you were looking into each other's eyes for over thirty seconds straight.

“‘And’?”

“My boss won’t be happy if I don’t have these reviews done by–”

“Wait a second.” Patrick held up a finger to stop you before he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m your boss, sweetie.”

Gulping, you had no choice but to turn your face into a friendly expression and grin politely. “With all respect, sir, you’re the boss of my boss. And, I really need to finish these.”

Patrick huffed as he stared at you, his hazel eyes spinning with green and brown, until they were a hypnotizing spiral that sucked you in. “Okay, I think I get it.” He shook his head, smirking all the time from how timidly you were batting your eyelashes. “Now listen (Y/N), in two hours I will be at Four Seasons, the one down here,” he quickly checked his Rolex, and then glanced at you again. “I’ll be waiting for you there. Don’t be late.”

As if he didn’t want to give you a chance to refuse, Bateman turned around and left your office. The silence filled up your ears after the door closed. Your chest was rising and falling so quickly; you couldn’t really believe what just happened. Biting your lower lip, you thoughtfully slid your hand against the tabletop–a creeping panic was growing in your gut, making it hard for you to breathe.

When Cindy returned fifteen minutes later, you didn’t say even a word about what had happened just before she came back, because it would sound completely absurd. And considering her previous reaction to what you told her about Mr. Bateman, she would probably burn with envy. But there was one more problem–how to sneak out from the office without anyone asking questions?

“Erm, Cindy…I’m going on a quick break,” you mumbled as you got up to grab your coat.

“Wait, wait! Where are you going?”

“It’s nothing interesting,” smiling sheepishly, you wrapped a woolen scarf around your neck. “Oh, did I thank you for the coffee? It was really nice!”

“Hey! Stop messing around!” she protested, standing up from her seat, with arms crossed. “You usually don’t go anywhere for ‘breaks’!”

Sighing, you took your bag and glanced at your watch. Plenty of time. “I’ll tell you when I get back, okay?” a small bluff wouldn't be an issue–you concluded, watching Cindy sadly pouting. “One of our colleagues asked me for lunch, that’s all, you know. Nothing special…”

“And who’s this cutie pie? Ah, don’t tell me, I think I know who it is!” She clapped her hands, and her voice trilled with excitement. “If you say that it’s that nerd from our computer department, I’m gonna die!”

Humming, you gave yourself a few seconds to think before replying: “Yes, it’s him.”

“Eeeee!” she giggled, shushing herself with a palm. “Oh, my gosh, poor ‘Romeo’ finally made a step!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chided, holding out your hands to soothe her. “I don’t have much time, and I still need to find the place where we’re having lunch. So, see you later… Oh, and Cindy, if the boss calls, please tell her I’m out for some office supplies.”

On that bright note, you left your office, with mysterious excitement.

It was your first time at Four Seasons, though you heard a lot of positive reviews about this place from the top management of P & P. Once you made just one step inside the restaurant, you met at least three or four good-looking females, all dressed with expensive clothes and jewelry. After a quick examination of yourself, you had to admit—your office uniform was looking unsuitable for this kind of an establishment, but who would care? If one arrogant snob didn’t force you to come here, all restaurant visitors wouldn't have to suffer from your “super luxury look”—you giggled sarcastically to yourself before you approached the maître d' — a young blond lady with a very deep neckline. As soon as she noticed you, she gave you a suspiciously friendly smile and greeted you:

“Good afternoon, Miss and welcome to the Four Seasons. My name is Veronica. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hello!” you smiled back. “There should be a reservation under Mr. Bateman.”

The last words you said made her face change literally before your eyes and now it was not as friendly as one minute ago. “Let me check please,” she was sorting through the pages of the logbook, looking at you from time to time from under her long lashes. “Please, follow me.”

The closer you were getting to the table, the more you felt an uprising fear in your chest and you couldn’t really understand what was really scaring you that much: him, this fancy place, or all of these things together. Wrapped in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice you had already reached the place as the maître d' extended her hand, inviting you to take the seat just across from Patrick, who at that moment was studying the menu, with his face half covered by it.

“Have a good time!” The blonde glanced at you contemptuously for the last time before she strolled away.

“Thanks…” You replied to no one, nervously undoing your scarf.

“Glad to see you again, sit down.” Bateman murmured, putting the menu aside, his brown eyes were exploring your frame like a scanner.

“I hope I am not late.”

“No, you are just in time,” he smirked as you finally sat in front of him, your hands nervously fixing the sleeves of your white blouse. “What do you usually prefer to drink? Tea, water, maybe coffee?”

“I had enough coffee today, but thank you,” you looked at him more confidently, as your strategy for this lunch was pretty simple–be nice, friendly, and polite. “This place is so lovely!”

“You think so?”

“Uh, yes. Well, I’m not the type of person who goes on lunch to such places,” you paused as you noticed how attentively he was listening to you, raising his right eyebrow. “So, I don't know what to compare it to, but this one looks exquisite.”

You heard him chuckling softly before Bateman took a sip of his whiskey, pointing at the menu with his stare. “Choose what you want to eat.”

With a warm grin on your face, you took the menu but once you saw the prices–you felt your hair standing on edge. “You know, I’m not really hungry.”

“Stop pretending, sweetie,” damn, did he call you like that again? “If you were not hungry you wouldn’t ask your friend to bring you a cupcake, right?”

Stunned by his sudden trick, you hid behind the menu for a second to reflect on what to answer him back. “You have a significant memory, Mr. Bateman.”

“It’s Patrick,” he smiled at you flirtatiously while his piercing gaze seemed trying to catch any little weaknesses of yours. “As you should know, my type of work requires such things.”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“And… I really prefer you to call me Patrick, but on the other hand, the way you say ‘Mr. Bateman’ sounds kinda hot.”

You nearly let out a nervous laugh but you held back yourself as you gave him a confused look.

Unlike you, Bateman couldn’t help but snigger at your reaction. “Relax, silly. I’m joking.”

“That's what I thought…” You were acting as if nothing happened, desperately trying to suppress an unknown frisson inside your body.

Then, a tall dark-haired waiter got your attention as he came across your table, with a notebook in his hands. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

“Beef Steak with Grilled Vegetables and Sweet Potatoes,” Patrick pointed with a finger, forcing his golden Rolex to wiggle on his wrist. “(Y/N), did you make your choice?”

“To be honest, I’d rather eat something sweet,” you glimpsed at the waiter with hope, because you didn’t even see the dessert menu. “Maybe you can recommend something to me?”

“We have amazing cheesecakes and tiramisu-”

“A dessert for lunch?” Bateman asked in surprise, cutting off the waiter and leaving you a bit embarrassed. “I think Sweet Pea and Tuna Salad sounds better,” he waited for the busboy to take away the menu and then added: “It’s healthier, and it tastes delicious. You are gonna like it.”

Confused, you watched the waiter walking away when you suddenly blurted out: “Actually, you could make an order without asking-”

“I could, but I wanted to give you a chance,” the way he kept interrupting everyone was really pissing you off. “So, how long have you been working in our company? Cause I can’t really remember you,” frowning a bit, he leaned on the back of his chair. “You must be a new one?”

With a cunning smirk, you took a glass of mineral water that was already standing on the table. “Well, you can say that,” you smiled again before continuing: “I’ve been working as an accountant in Pierce & Pierce for two years already.”

Satisfied with how awkward he was looking right now, you made a victorious sip of water, waiting for his next step.

“Two years… Huh, that’s a lot!”

“Yes, but it’s fine we never met,” you stated, meeting his languid gaze more decisively. “Usually, top management doesn’t see any of its workers and it’s okay.”

Bateman nodded, humming something to himself as if the puzzle inside his head finally completed. “Mm-hm, I hope you’re happy with your job and you don’t feel overworked.”

Was it some kind of test? As much as you wanted to lament about all of your grievances, you couldn’t take any risks–how could you even trust the guy who first antagonized you and then asked you out for lunch… in Four Fucking Seasons. That was so weird.

“I love everything about my work. But of course, it’s not perfect but nowhere is.” You replied confidently.

“Don’t you mind if I smoke?” Before Bateman asked, he was already having a cigar in his hand.

Even if you did, what would you say?

“Go on.”

And then you suddenly lost it, as you watched him lighting his cigar after your words, and you could swear to God–never in your life, you saw a man who was smoking sexier than that. Mesmerized, you couldn't take your eyes off of his beautiful features, especially his ideal cheekbones, which looked so sharp–you thought you could cut yourself if you touch them… Touch them?

Meanwhile, Patrick was definitely rambling about something, but you could only see how his perfectly shaped lips curled whenever he was speaking, and damn… His side profile seemed to be forged by a sculptor, as you didn’t really have any other explanations for how this man could be so fine… Wait, what were you even thinking?

“(Y/N), are you listening?” His concerned voice took you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, yes… Sorry! I just remembered about my report, which I should finish today and-”

“So, you’re really overworked if you can’t even stop thinking about your job while being here with me.”

Did he sound really offended, or it was just your slightly clouded mind–you couldn’t really find an answer as he added:

“Maybe I should speak with your boss about this?” he puffed on his cigar, giving you a challenging glance. “And guess what? I think we should have dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” smirking, Bateman blew some smoke rings, his dark eyes glowing with excitement. “Dinner, where we can chill a bit and have a proper conversation. Not like this.”

Just as you were about to reply, the waiter brought your meals, how unfortunate–you thought before taking a napkin, and of course, you touched his palm because Patrick was doing just the same thing. As if you were in some romance movie, you took your hand away like from fire, but that only spurred him to catch your palm again, stroking it nearly notably, and somehow, this time you didn’t even make a move—you only gasped. Rising your eyes on him, you could only see a devilish grin of satisfaction on his face and there was nothing really left for you to do, rather than ask yourself if that was really happening.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader

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hypersomniagame · 4 months

Text

HYPERSOMNIA JANUARY DEV LOG : "LOG 1, WOOHOO!"

Hi! For all of you who follow HYPERSOMNIA, or are just stopping by, let me introduce you to this post to really set the tone.

For 2024, I am going to try to release a dev log about HYPERSOMNIA once a month, may come earlier, may come a little late, but I'm doing this to help give insight on to how the game is going, and to give me motivation to work on the game.

First things first, big news!

HYPERSOMNIA IS NOW AVAILABLE TO WISHLIST ON STEAM! (LINK)

After a while of back and forwarding with Valve, I've finally got a Steam page to call my own, and MAN is it bizarre seeing my weird little RPG in my Steam library. Like, that's my logo, and my key art, and screenshots of MY game, that's so weird. It doesn't feel real. BUT IT IS!

And, I would really really really really really appreciate it if you would consider wishlisting the game on Steam. It helps with the algorithm, and my happiness because I like seeing numbers go up, it feels good.

I even drew this as a announcement/commemoration for the page going live.

(P.S; if you couldn't tell, I really like Half-Life, it's one of my favorite game series.)

Secondly...

A new trailer is in the works! We were accepted for this year's MOTHER Direct (4th time baby, whoo!)

The trailer has been coming along well, I hope to show more battle oriented clips that I've missed the last few years, like special moves.

Can you believe I've never actually gotten to adding those in the game? I mean, they come set-up in default RPG Maker projects but I've never gotten around to revamping them until now, year 4 of engine work. Isn't that strange?

I also hope to improve on editing in the trailers. Whenever I finish a trailer I come back a few months later to notice minor points where I was kinda sloppy.

I'm not much of a video editor, (I only learned so I could edit trailers on my own) but I'd like to keep them at a good presentable quality. You gotta have standards with that kinda stuff, it's important!

OK, TIME FOR THE ACTUAL GAME STUFF. HERE WE GO.

Abilities are now implemented! And work! Wahoo!

In HYPERSOMNIA, players are able to switch abilities between party members. I find this a really interesting mechanic for how simple it seems, you get to choose who plays what role in your party. I think this is HUGE, and opens up a lot of unique scenarios for the game's encounters. I've had this planned for years, as far back as 2021 if I can recall, so it's super cool seeing it in game.

Mapping is being worked on!

I've also been working on mapping out more areas of the game! The forest part you hopefully saw in the last trailer is almost completely mapped. I've been working on the second part to it and am hoping to finish it sometime soon.

Mapping forests really suck. THOUGH, almost all the maps for the first chapter of the game are done! That's just another step closer to the demo. (Which, FYI, will be on Steam and Itch! ^^)

I've also been working on re-spriting older scenes!

This one's been really fun to do, I've been going back and redoing older stuff from the 2022 trailer, like this train! It's weird seeing it side by side, because you can definitely see where it's come from but at the same time, it looks so different.

(Also side note, these sprites are CRUSTY! EWWW!)

Lastly, Script and Music updates!

The script for HYPERSOMNIA's first act has been completed! with just 37 pages of just cutscene dialog alone! We're also currently working on wrapping up NPC dialog! Not much else to say.

And music is being worked on!

Music has been making some progress! I like to lay out demo's for areas I'm mapping out to help make both the music and scene come together. (Also, to help break up the eerie silence when playtesting...)

Speaking of music, FIREBALL, the games main battle theme, was recently delisted on our YouTube channel.

We did this because we decided we wanted to resample FIREBALL, and found that it's best to not have the song uploaded until a complete, final version is made. At least for the demo, it could possibly change before the final game but that's a bit too far in the future for me to think about fully.

Hey! Thanks for reading the whole dev log! Unless you just skipped to the end, you should probably go back up and read it. there's a steam page now. and some cool ross art at the top. you're missing out!

I hope this was like, readable to you all. I'm new to this whole dev log thing, so if you read it all the way through, let me know! It'd be cool!

I'd like to use this portion to pretty much just advertise Unique Indie RPG's.

Have you ever seen that strange purple square at the beginning of the 2nd and 3rd HYPERSOMNIA trailers?

Yeah, that! That's UNIQUE INDIE RPG's, which is a Discord community for you guessed it, Unique Indie RPG videogames developed by people like me! Or you! Or whoever! Who cares!

I help run it with some of my friends, and we all share cool stuff about our videogames! There's a ton of other SUPER cool RPG Maker games there like Astral Guard [LINK], or SOMEWHEN [LINK], or even MOMOinc [LINK]!

And of course, HYPERSOMNIA. It's a really laid back community, we're all super chill. Come swing by! We'd love to have ya, and SHOW US YOUR GAME!

[LINK TO DISCORD SERVER]

TWITTER

YOUTUBE

STEAM

UNIQUE INDIE RPG'S [SHOW US YOUR GAME!]

[PREV] [ABOUT HYPERSOMNIA] [NEXT]

#hypersomniagame #rpgmaker #indie dev #updates #dev log #rpg #indiedev #earthbound #unique indie rpgs

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serendipityrogers · 11 months

Text

Reprimand

pairing: john price x female!reader

word count: around 1.4k

content warnings: kinda mean!price in the beginning, spanking, overstimulation possibly, no actual sex but definitely smut. MDNI

an: more cod stuff! woohoo! this is my first time writing something like this so bear with me. its not a full blown fic, just s little something. i got inspired by a tiktok i saw, but i can’t find it now. im still working on some request from about a month ago, but if you see this and want to send some more, feel free!

There were three tell-all signs that the Captain had which let you know when you had fucked up, and he was displaying them all for you right now.

One, he sat back slowly in his large office chair, causing a slight squeaking noise. The chair was physically taller and broader than him, but in that moment he made it look puny, meant for a child.

Two, an elbow propped up on the arms of the chair, stroking the length of his mustache. While he appeared to be in deep thought about all the forms of punishment he could put you through.

Three, using his other hand, he rhythmically tapped the solid, oak desk with his fingertips, clearly trying to calculate exactly what he needed to say next. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, everyone listened.

All that cockiness, stemming from a successful mission, that resided in your body, exorcized itself almost immediately. You had been on this side of Price a time or two before. What exactly had you done? You couldn’t say, on this last mission, you were quite reckless. A usual occurrence, even putting Soap to shame. It could have been leaving your post early, after it was made very clear not to. Or it could have been the jokes you made over the communication systems. You were never one to take things very seriously. Well, that was the case for everything, except for this.

“Captain, I–” You tried to speak, defend your actions, but he stopped you, holding his palm out towards you. “I think you’ve done enough talking.” He barked, his accent sounding rougher than normal. You knew how this was going to end, the same way it always did. You just wished he would get on with it, because the anticipation was killing you, and you could feel the mix of dread and excitement building in the pit of your stomach.

Price and you had a thing, an indescribable thing, but it was definitely a thing. Finally, after a long, thick silence, he beckoned you forward with his index finger. Your legs felt like they could crumble at any moment as you walked towards him, rounding the side of the desk, and coming to stand next to him. Twisting in the chair, he faced you, one hand still messing with his mustache.

“Be a good girl and bend over the desk.” It was like your body was entranced, buckling forward at the hips, chest coming to rest against the hard surface of his desk. The oak was cold against your exposed arms, which were bent at the elbow and palms flat. Exactly how he liked you. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear his movements as he stood up from his seat, the wheels of his chair scratching against the wooden floor as it rolled backwards a few feet.

The heavy footfall of his boots were deafening in the otherwise silent office as he paced behind you somewhere. “How many times are we going to have to do this, Sergeant?” He asks rhetorically, he knows you’ll never learn. “Never again, sir.” But your promise falls of deaf ears. “Ah, we know that’s not true. He chuckles. He wasn’t wrong, but you would never admit that to him. “We both know you like this a little too much.” Your body spoke louder than any words possibly could, and he was a great listener.

Still unable to see the Captain, you heard his pacing cease, coming to stand directly behind you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. He was close, but not close enough to actually be touching you. One of his boots kicked the insides of your feet, instructing you to widen your stance, which you did. His index fingers loop around the waistband of your thermals, shoving them down your legs with no warning. Your panties going with them.

You tense under the sudden decrease in temperature, cool air traveling between your legs and to the apex of your thighs. Your fists ball up beside you, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to suppress any of the noises threatening to pass your lips. “You were certainly more chatty earlier, sweetheart. What happened?” He mocked.

“Sir, I–” Was all you could muster out, before one hand came down to graze the newly exposed skin, causing you to let out a small gasp. Another laugh passes his lips from behind you, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin. You were putty in his hands, and he had barely even touched you yet.

Leaning over you, he placed his mouth right beside your ear. “Good girls get rewarded…” He whispers, his long, slender fingers crawling closer to your cunt, the pad of his index finger makes contact with your cunt. He presses forward, between your soaked folds, until he’s satisfied by the amount of slick he’s collected on the tip of his finger. And just as you think he’s about to push one of his fingers inside you, he speaks again, “...bad girls get punished.”

That’s when he pulls away from you, voiding you of any contact. A strangled groan falls past your lips, “I-I’m sorry for misb-behaving, s-sir.” You apologize profusely. “I-It won't happen again.” You echo your promise from earlier, but Price still doesn’t buy it. He knows you’re just saying that to get your way, but he wasn’t budging that easily. “You know the drill, sweetheart…” He said, completely ignoring your pleas.

“Count.” That’s when you felt the first smack come down on your ass, the left cheek. The sound echoes off the walls, your body jolting further against the desk. The handles of the drawers digging into the fronts of your thighs. “One!” You squeak out, eyes screwed shut, the pain simmered on your back side. It was a pleasurable feeling, it was like adding oxygen to the fire inside you.

That was until his large hand came down again, across the same cheek. There was a trend that each swat got harder and harder as time went on. “Two!” You called out, hands reaching out to grip the front of the desk for support. “You sure do know how to take direction now.” He quipped. “Price, I promise I-“ Another smack, harder this time. “Three!” The Captain was very particular about the use of honorifics in this type of situation. He definitely enjoyed the power dynamic between the two of you, and used it to his advantage.

An annoyed wail instinctually leaves your mouth. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” He scolded. “Sir, sorry, I just wanted to sa-“ Another swat. Between the momentum and his calloused hand, the stinging sensation grew quickly. After the fourth slap, his fingertips dig into the reddened skin, which was beginning to swell from the mishandling. He kneads the flesh, causing you to suck in a quick breath. “C’mon, Sergeant, you’re doing so well.” He praised you, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “F-Four…” You whimpered.

This continued well into the double digits. Each one getting more difficult to count out loud, but with each smack he seemed to get more lenient with you. From experience he knew, anything after fifteen was hit or miss. You had started seeing stars at around eleven. “Eightee-en.” You weren't sure when the tears had started, but they stained your cheeks. You could taste the saltiness on your lips.

Luckily Price knew your body well enough to know when you were at your tipping point, and he could tell you were nearly there. “You’re being such a good girl, you can make it to twenty, yeah?” You contemplated for a moment, the burning sensation on your ass was intense, you knew there would surely be bruises and sitting would already be a challenge. “Y-Yes, s-sir.” You mewled. “Atta girl.” He cooed.

Another slap. “Nineteen.” You said through gritted teeth, you were sure your knuckles were white because of how hard you were gripping the desk to steady yourself.. Your legs had started to go numb, they were overcome with that familiar buzzing sensation. Your brain was foggy, you weren’t even sure how you were keeping track of the number you were at, you were just spouting out numbers and hoping for the best. “So good.” The Captain reiterated, “Last one.”

Smack.

“Twenty!” You sobbed out. “Alright, you’re all done.” He murmured, “Stand up.” He ordered softly. It took a few moments for your brain to register his words, but once they did, you used your hands to push off the desk. As all your weight distributed back onto your legs, that's when they crumbled, luckily Price was there to catch you.

“It’s alright, I gotcha, love.”

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 12

Woohoo!! I managed to get it done today. Again no promises on tomorrow, but it’s coming along great. I think I have another couple chapters to go, but I’m not sure exactly how many yet.

RIP Eddie’s poor little mind.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Eddie leaned into the mic and said, “This is for Chrissy and the victims of Hawkins.”

He sat down on the stool and Kirk gave him a thumbs up and then ran to stand next to Steve.

“Just how good is your friend here?” Kirk yelled for Steve to hear.

Steve just grinned.

Then Eddie started the opening chords. It started slow and then gradually ramped it up.

Steve started to bob his head. This was even more incredible than Eddie’s performance in the Upside Down because he had the bass and rhythm guitar to back him when he started. Then the drums hit and Eddie was in his element.

Steve hadn’t seen how hard he went to town on his guitar that day. But Dustin had. He had told Steve that it was the most metal thing he had ever seen. Watching Eddie now, wounded and hurting, putting all his fear and anger into that song, he could believe it.

Kirk looked over at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Steve smirked. It was only going to get better.

Eddie hit the solo and Kirk’s jaw dropped. Steve could see Eddie raise from the stool to standing. He was shredding away and the crowd was eating it up.

Steve let out a piercing whistle and Eddie smiled.

When the song finally came to an end, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Eddie Munson!” James screamed into the microphone.

The crowd lost their god damn minds.

Kirk came back out and got the crowd cheering again. “I’m worried for my job,” he said getting a laugh from the audience.

“You can keep it for now,” Eddie said with a grin. “I’ve got my own band.”

The crowd oohed and stomped their feet.

James looked over at him. “So what your saying is not get to comfortable or your band will come for us?”

Eddie laughed excitedly. “That’s the plan, man.”

“Let’s hear it again for Eddie Munson!” Kirk roared into his microphone.

The crowd cheered. Eddie reluctantly handed back the guitar and went back to stand next to Steve.

“I’m not sure if I want to kill you or kiss you right now!” Eddie growled into Steve’s ear.

Steve laughed. “It’s not over with yet!”

Eddie gave him the side eye but turned his direction back to the concert. The rest of the concert was a smashing hit and Eddie loved every second of it.

Afterwards they had pictures taken with the band and Ozzy Osbourne who was well on his way to be sloshed as fuck. But he managed to stay upright for the photos.

Eddie could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins and was on top of the world. He was sure that he was the highest he could possibly go.

Until someone came up to Eddie and handed him the guitar he had used on stage. Signed by all the members of Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne.

“Holy shit!” Eddie said looking down at the instrument in his hands. “Thanks, guys. Thank you so much.”

Lars patted him on the back. “When we were told that you lost yours in the earthquake, we knew that we had to do something for you to replace it. We know it’ll never be your sweetheart.”

“But we hope it’ll carry you to wherever you decide to go,” James agreed.

Kirk put a hand on his shoulder. “When Corroded Coffin gets famous, hit us up for a tour, yeah?”

Eddie nodded, too afraid to speak or he’d start crying.

“They absolutely will,” Steve said confidently.

They stayed for a couple of drinks with the band before they set off again for the hotel.

By the time they got back, Eddie was swaying on his feet, still clutching that guitar to his chest. Steve had been given a soft case to keep it protected on the way home, but he didn’t think Eddie would let go of it long enough to use it.

Once they got up to the hotel, Steve gently maneuvered Eddie over to the couch and sat him down.

Eddie looked up at Steve, tears threatening to fall. “Stevie...”

“Hi, there, beautiful,” Steve said, kneeling in front of him.

“This was too much,” he insisted.

Steve shook his head. “Nuh-uh, do you remember what I told you?”

“That it was the perfect amount of awesome for me?” Eddie whispered.

“That’s right, sunshine,” Steve murmured. “You didn’t deserve to be pulled into the Upside Down because you wanted to you wanted to go to a concert and selling drugs was your only option. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into hell because you saw a girl who needed help and did you best.” He rubbed Eddie’s thighs reassuringly. “This was something we could do for you because the nightmares are going to come if they haven’t already. Because you’ll jump at strange noises, because the sound of something snapping will bring it all back. But you didn’t deserve that, sunshine. Any of it.”

Eddie set the guitar down for the first time and brought Steve’s face up to meet his. They kissed softly. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome, Eds.” Steve stood back up and held out his hand to Eddie. “Come on, let’s go get that bath, babe.”

They both laid in the tub, Eddie with his back, pressed against Steve’s chest.

“Hmm...” Eddie purred as the jets massaged away the tension that had built up from the excitement. “I’ve decided when I get rich and famous, I’m going to have one of these in every bathroom I own.”

Steve’s chuckle rumbled against Eddie’s back. “Yeah, this is nice. The company is better though.”

Eddie splashed him gently. “Softy.”

Steve kissed the top of Eddie’s head. “Only for you, sunshine.” He looked down. “You want me to wash your hair?”

Eddie just hummed again, which Steve took as a yes. He had put the soap and things nearby because he worried Eddie might fall asleep in the bath. It was the most intimate Steve had ever been with anyone. It was a rush. He thought sex was height of intimacy but this? This topped sex.

He washed Eddie’s hair and then ran conditioner through it. He massaged Eddie’s scalp, and Eddie let his head droop lazily against Steve’s shoulder.

“Feels good, sunshine?” Steve asked into Eddie ear.

Eddie hummed happily. “So good.”

After Steve had worked in the conditioner, he grabbed the pitcher that he filled with warm water and gently poured it over it Eddie’s head, rinsing out the suds.

Steve scrunched his hair in his fingers to make sure that all the conditioner was out.

“You ready to get out or did you want to stay a little longer?”

Eddie rolled a little into Steve’s arms. “Just a little longer. This is so good.”

“Okay, babe,” Steve murmured.

They woke up the next morning snuggling together in the king size bed. Steve woke first. He looked down at the boy in his arms and smiled. This weekend had turned out even better than he even dreamed. At best they would be heading back to Hawkins full of potential of something new. At worst, Eddie turned him down and they would have an awkward ride back. But having waking up the second day in a row in each other’s arms? Steve’s imagination wasn’t that good.

Eddie stirred. “I can hear you thinking from here, babe. Go back to sleep.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say, love.”

They snuggled closer and drifted back to sleep.

Eddie woke up first the second time. He had been so sure that last night had been a dream, but he was lying in Steve’s arms and from here he could see the guitar on the sofa reminding him that no, it hadn’t been a dream. This was his life now.

Once they were fully awake they decided to skip breakfast and just stop for lunch on the way back. They packed up all their stuff, plus all the loot they had gotten last night. In addition to the guitar Metallica had gotten Eddie, they also gave Eddie and Steve goody bags filled with band merch. T-shirts, posters, tour pins. It was quite the haul. They packed the car, the new stuff going on the backseat.

Eddie wanted the guitar up front with him but he couldn’t get it to fit safely, so he was forced to put it on the backseat with the rest of it. He looked back at in longing before he face forward, allowing Steve to drive away.

They merely bought some fast food and ate in the car. But it was Steve and not Eddie that insisted they stay near the guitar.

“I think it’ll be okay for twenty minutes, sweetheart,” Eddie said when they stopped.

Steve shook his head. “Things have been going so well this weekend it would be just my luck that something happens the second I look away. Nope. Can’t do it.”

Eddie chuckled and pulled him close. “If it’ll put your mind at ease, babe, then we’ll eat in the car.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged with relief. This had been a first test of sorts, if Eddie could handle Steve’s little anxieties. And he had passed. At least this time.

Steve banished that thought. He wasn’t going to sabotage this relationship before it even got off the ground.

Eddie pulled his arms around his waist and held him tightly. “Just breathe, Stevie. You’re okay.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Sometimes it becomes too much.”

“I’d be more concerned if it didn’t, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured into Steve’s hair. “You have been fighting an unseen, unsung battle for years. And even though Vecna’s dead and his hold on the Upside Down is destroyed, there is still a chance that something else might happen. That could be tomorrow. Next week, next month. But maybe not for decades and you’d have no way of knowing. It’s okay to freak out about little things. Because you can control those, yeah?

Steve nodded.

“So why don’t I go grab us something to eat,” he continued. “And I’ll be right back. Then you can keep an eye on our stuff, while I’m gone?”

Steve let out another shuddering breath, this one seemed to dislodge whatever fear he had bottled up inside him. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Eddie was in and out in no time at all and they sat happily munching on their greasy burgers and slurping their sodas. Slowly Eddie got Steve laughing and relaxing.

Once they were done with their food they through away the garbage and made the last leg of their journey to Hawkins.

They needed to go to the hospital and see Dr Hathaway, but they stopped by Eddie and Wayne’s new house first.

They dropped off all of Eddie’s things and put Steve’s loot in the trunk. And once he had successfully done that, Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

Eddie gave his shoulder a squeeze in support. And then piled back into the car for the drive to the hospital. Steve had called them from the house and let them know they were on their way.

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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