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yaespook · 6 months

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Run 4 - In Progress.

✧ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Android! Wanderer, no gendered terms used for reader, no actual penetration, unhealthy obsessive and possessive relationship from Wanderer, memory manipulation. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: If possible, use the InteractiveFics extension to change the phrase “My name” (without the quotation marks) to the name given to your Wanderer.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

You must have picked him up two or three weeks ago, when he was still worse for wear. In your memory, he was in pretty bad shape when the two of you first met, his main panel wrenched open leaving his circuitry a mess and rough scrapes all over his superficial layer.

Now, with your constant repairs, he’s been more lively, tailing you around the house as you go about your day. While fussing about, dusting off a muzzle laying on a fur pelt, you sense a presence lingering outside your room.

"You know, I don't recall androids being quite so clingy." In return, you get a light huff from behind the door frame.

"And you’ve come across other androids? I didn’t know you run a junkyard here,” the eye roll in his tone is audible.

His feet pad into the room and his gaze hones in on the clerical collar placed on a nearby shelf, glaring at it. Clicking his tongue, he crosses his hands on his chest.

“Whatever, what you do is mostly up to you anyway. Do you think you’re almost done cleaning? I think there’s an internal problem again, I’ll wait for you at the worktable,” the android saunters off nonchalantly, throwing you a light wave over his shoulder.

Sighing, you quickly finish up your task at hand before complying to his request, briskly making your way over to the worktable where he's already perched smugly on, his gaze expectant.

You easily go through the rehearsed motions of plugging him up to your computer, your muscle memory kicking in as you boot up the required softwares before gingerly prying the main panel located on the front of his torso to gain access to his internal workings. Over time, you've gradually figured out the parts that make up the android sitting before you, growing used to the sight of the lengths of wiring and cables running throughout his body, the faint low mechanical whirring of motors and cooling systems.

Most importantly, you now understand how sensitive his central core is. Nestled securely in a latched transparent casing, his core is what powers and sustains him. It emits a constant turquoise light and is also reflected in the glowing markings that lay beneath his synthetic skin that occasionally activate. (Although, you haven't quite gotten an answer for what makes them light up yet.)

“So what's your problem today?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from him as you go over to your computer to check if any bugs have been identified.

“I think that cable all the way at the back came undone and got tangled with the rest.”

You shoot him a pointed look, “Again? Didn’t we just fix that same cable last week?” Shifting your chair so you’re seated before him, poised to conduct your repairs, you make a passing remark, “Maybe taking you to another mechanic might be the better choice, get everything checked out, you know?”

How long have you kept at your task of finally fixing him up to tiptop condition? It’s almost daily when he reports back to you with a new disconnected wire or another loose joint somewhere on him. Diligently, you’ve been trying to repair him but the android is like a never-ending to-do list. And it’s only natural to be concerned if the constant damage stems from a more serious underlying issue that you haven’t managed to discover. The only next logical step would be to get another pair of eyes to help discern the root cause in case anything takes a turn for the worse.

But the reaction you get from him is one unexpected. His head snaps to face you, a scowl evident on his face.

“So you’re handing me off like an unfinished project to someone else now?”

You know how snippy he can get however, this is on a different level from his previous behaviour. Maybe something left over from the days before you found him. It’ll be a good idea to look into his past logs to diagnose any present problems, you make a mental note of it.

“I’m just worried for you, that’s all. What if there’s an urgent issue I can’t fix alone? And we both know I can’t leave you as is.”

His expression mellows to an annoyed pout, looking away as his core glows faintly along with the patterns under his skin, he mumbles, “I’ll be fine.” (“I just need you.”) (“I'm the only one for you.”) (“No one else deserves you.”)

He allows you to work without another complaint, silently watching as your hands venture into his chest, a focused air to you while you look for the problematic cable. He senses your touch when you make contact with it, sucking in a sharp breath as you grip it between your fingers, twisting it around to free it from the surrounding wires before you finally connect and plug it into its rightful place.

“That’s it for your cable issue. Anything else?” He quickly shakes his head.

Giving it a few light cursory pulls to make sure it’s finally secured, (if you weren’t mistaken, his core brightened in time with your tugs), you spare the rest of his parts one last look over. Then, shutting the panel, you unplug him from the computer.

Immediately, he scampers off the worktable with a clipped “thank you” and runs into his room. You hear the door to his room close before its lock clicks.

The next few days prove to be better, the repair requests for any troubles that seem to have cropped up overnight growing more and more infrequent. Perhaps, bit by bit, the end of the repairs start to come into sight.

Although, you have noted that his internal temperatures have been hiking recently whenever you have his chest panel open to patch him up.

This time, you have him lying on the worktable on his back to access the further areas in him. He’s positioned facing upwards but his eyes are darting everywhere, unable to meet your gaze. Once again, the programme open on your computer screen shows how his temperatures are quickly rising even though there are no obvious reasons for such a sudden change. It records the recurrence into its troubleshooting log like before, more times than you can remember.

He’s panting lightly, the android’s chest moving up and down as your ears pick up the sound of his inner fans whir louder, his pre-programmed functions activating to try to cool him down. With no clue as to what could cause this issue, you reach in to look for a fault. Yet, the more you poke and prod around, the higher the warmth within him rises.

Left with more questions than answers, you turn to his core for a closer look. When your fingers brush against the transparent casing, a moan slips out from him, and instantly his head whips to look at you dumbfounded.

An artificial blush takes over his face, a low pink glow blooming from beneath the synthetic layer. A beat passes before he cracks his lips apart, voicebox working as he pleads.

“...Again.”

Gently, you let your fingertips dance over the clasp hinging the casing shut and his response is instant. A shudder rolls through him, as real as it can be, and a shaky exhale leaves him. The android’s back arches up slightly, hastily chasing after your touch when you remove your hand.

Your caress returns when your hand dips deeper into his circuitry, where you hook two fingers underneath his thicker cables, attentively stroking them between your thumb and fingers, before tugging on them forcefully enough to elicit a reaction from him.

His eyes fly open at your ministrations, a greed for more overtaking his processors. You’ve always been so gentle with him when he’s opened up for you, when you have access to the deepest parts of him, when he’s at his most vulnerable. So, to have you toy around with him, show him the indulgence of human flesh, can you really fault him for falling for you?

The tips of your fingers ghost along the length of his metal spine, and the android keens from under you.

“Please, more, I can take it!”

Taking his cue, your hand encircles his spine, grinding the heel of your palm against the ridges of the sensitive metal elements as you pump up and down.

“Sss- so good! Hah…!” He can’t control how he behaves when you treat him so well, like he’s the only one worthy of your attention. He shakes under your touch, trembling as the addictive pleasure overrides his programmed commands.

“No more blubbering, just focus on me.” Your other hand goes to cup his chin, and obediently, he parts his lips for you, allowing you to slip your thumb into his mouth. You can feel his tongue work and when you press down, he jolts suddenly. A gag reflex? In an android? How amusing.

When you stop stroking him, he whines pitifully, muffled moans and begging for you to continue but his complaints stop when he feels you unlatch the lid of his core casing.

“Would you let me?” And the flurry of nods from him confirms his enthusiasm.

With bated breath, he counts the seconds before you make contact with his core. And when he senses your caress on his glowing core in his exposed chest cavity, he breathes out a gasp, as if he requires the intake of air. None of this is written into the basis of his behaviour, not fed into the dataset that makes up how he’s supposed to act, so everything he feels for you must be real.

His eyes go unfocused as his neural network is flooded with the raw pleasure of being enveloped with love and lust down to his literal core. Desire burns within him, evident from the fans whirring even louder than before to bring down his temperatures. It’s just so much for the android’s computations to handle. Broken moans leave him as he tries to vocalise his love for you (as best as he can with his thumb in your mouth).

And when you press a kiss to his unprotected core, his vision whites out.

Eyes wrenched shut, his whole mechanical body jerks upwards, back arching off the worktable as his body propels himself to sit up, his limbs trying to ensnare you in his embrace, to keep you with him as long as he can. Every command in his system is overwritten to hone in on all the sensations of you on him, your touch, your warmth.

The patterns under his skin glow with a pulse, akin to a human’s heartbeat and when his eyes open again, glimmering faux tears roll down his face. His chest heaves as you close the distance between the two of you, cupping his face with both your hands and kissing his tears away.

The android breaks the intimate silence as he quietly asks you, “Can you give me a name?”

When you whisper a name into his ear, he breaks into sobs in your hands.

The days pass by, uneventful, and the time for a final cursory check before deeming him fully repaired comes. He’s poised on the worktable like any other previous session, a bored expression on his face as you flit back and forth between him and the software on your computer.

“You really are a clingy case,” you say and get a huff in return, “But a welcome one.”

Remembering your mental note from before about accessing his past logs, you access it from your computer, pulling up the window with his stored recorded data. The log operates in the background constantly, one of the built-in functions of the android and a quick glance over just to make sure everything is in order should do.

However, the logs prove to be worrying in a completely different way.

[Log: Day 10 - Run 1 - Failed. Werewolf. They’re with that mangy mutt. I don’t know what they see in him. I still remember the care they showed me. There’s always the next run.]

[Log: Day 20 - Run 2 - Failed. It seems I’m too late this time around. That vile selkie captured them first. How irritating. I need to stop hesitating. It’s my love on the line after all.]

[Log: Day 30 - Run 3 - Failed. Incubus. That damn priest and incubus. I can feel my temper reaching its breaking point.]

[Log: Day ??? - Run 4 - In progress. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.]

Your eyes rake across a multitude of grainy snapshots of yourself, all with different people that you can’t find the ability to recall, your mind pounding from the discovery.

He’s gazing expectantly when you look back up at him from the screen. A grin twists its way across his face, canines glinting under the dizzying harsh lighting.

“So now you’ve seen how much I love you, even if you don’t remember it.” There’s a sick obsession dripping in his tone, an uncanny level of emotion that androids normally shouldn’t be able to replicate, one that sends a heavy uneasiness through your whole being, one that roots you to the ground.

When he doesn’t get the adoring reaction from you he expects, the proud expression on his face falls instantly.

He’s despondent, despairing as he tears the connecting cables off of him, launching himself off the worktable, lunging across for you, frenzied, pure scorching mania surging through him.

“You… even after all these runs. You’ve always given me the same thing. My name. I thought this time- You-”

Voice shaky, “It’s a shame this run didn’t work out either.”

He steels himself, hand outstretched, “No matter.”

You blink.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

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artful-aries · 1 year

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Thoughts On Marriage + How They Would Propose (Xiao, Alhaitham, Itto)

Xiao:

In all likelihood, he wouldn’t really think about marriage nor want it

It’s not that he doesn’t love you, far from it; Xiao just has a hard time wrapping his brain around this mortal idea

He’s already sworn himself to you, isn’t that enough?

If you stress how important it is to you, or explain that marriage would just make his oath visible for everyone to see, he would consider it

If he eventually does decide to marry you, don’t expect his proposal to be grand or thought out

Xiao would likely just come up to you and say, “I have considered this ‘marriage’ that you spoke of, and I will do the ceremony with you. How do we get married?”

It’s almost endearing to see how puzzled he is by the concept, but it means a lot that he is stepping out of his comfort zone for you

He does eventually get you a ring; in fact, he makes the ring himself with the help of Cloud Retainer of course, but he would rather die than admit he needed assistance

Xiao thinks it is probably best that Cloud Retainer took over the crafting anyhow; he already worried about his karmic debt tainting you, and constantly wearing a ring imbued with his powers might make some of that debt transfer to you

Even if Xiao does not cave to your desire to get married, he will always be with you, guarding you like he guards the people of Liyue

Alhaitham:

He’s another one that wouldn’t be keen on the idea of marriage, but he’s not exactly opposed to it either

The idea just seems a bit trivial and almost taxing to him. Alhaitham would rather spend his time and energy on other things rather than a ceremony that ultimately wouldn’t change the way he feels about you

He loves you, and doesn’t want you going about something as troublesome as marriage just to prove something to yourself

The way to win him over is to present to him a pros and cons list. This will appeal to his logical side and show that you aren’t just blinded by your emotions when suggesting this, you’re giving it a lot of serious thought

He is surprisingly easy to convince once you’ve given him the list; even if he may not agree with all of your points on there, or has a few to add of his own, he does acknowledge that being married would reap more benefits than not

Once that is settled, he leaves the subject alone for a while, so long in fact that you think he has entirely forgotten or ignored the conversation

But then, he surprises you one evening by taking you to a nice dinner and presenting you the most gorgeous ring you have ever seen

He’s straightforward with his proposal, but you don’t miss the look of absolute adoration in his eyes as he says, “(Y/N), as we discussed prior, I would like for you to marry me. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to put this ring on your finger?”

Itto:

He would act like he doesn’t think much of marriage. Chaining down the great Arataki Itto? As if!

Secretly though he’s obsessed with the idea. The mental image of you with a pretty little ring on your finger drives him nuts

Tries to hatch a plan with the boys to gather up enough money to buy you a ring so he can propose, but they end up losing steam after a week or two

Itto then goes to Shinobu for advice, who actually reorients their efforts quite well and somehow manages to make sure they don’t accidentally spill the beans about the proposal

Before long, Itto has a nice ring picked out and a grand plan to declare his love for you in front of all Inazuma city which Shinobu shuts down before it starts

With his initial plans rightfully thwarted, he can barely contain himself and proposes to you the next time you visit him and the gang

Itto is a bit cheesy with his proposal, but with his lopsided grin it’s hard to imagine saying no to that face

“(Y/N), babe, I love you. Would you…be the numero two of the Arataki Gang?”

Shinobu could strangle him for his poor choice of words, but seeing as though you’re happy regardless she lets it go

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine #itto x reader #itto #arataki itto #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin headcanon

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astroboots · 2 years

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RED FLAGS ║ PART 4

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: Steven disappears and you fall into a rabbit hole trying to decode Marc’s secret message. Or alternatively: Marc needs to communicate better.

Rating: really gratuitous and detailed sex, writers are clearly super horny.

Warning/content: anxiety, spiraling thoughts, worrying about safety of a partner, clumsy sex-shanigans, the writers being way too obsessed with how freakin' beautiful Steven is.

Word Count: 8.1k

Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You can’t believe Steven’s gone.

Flinging the quilt aside, you leap out of bed and dash into the loo. Against all logic, you’re hoping that he’ll be standing in front of the sink with a spare toothbrush in his mouth, ready to wish you good morning through a frothy toothpaste smile.

He’s not.

There’s no one here but you.

Your home is a cramped studio flat with barely enough space for a bed, small sitting area, and an even smaller kitchenette. If Steven were still here, he’d be in plain sight, but somehow you find yourself turning cushions like some kind of madwoman. Inspecting every corner of the room, as if Steven might be hiding behind your washing machine like a goddamn leprechaun.

There’s nothing. No note left on your kitchen counter. No clothing left behind. No promised breakfast. There’s not even a text message on your phone letting you know that he had to leave early for work.

With shaky fingers and your heart beating painfully loud in your ears, it takes you three tries to unlock your phone and select Steven from the list of contacts. You lift the phone to your ear and hold your breath, staring blindly at the mess you’ve made of your flat as it rings and rings and rings.

Finally, there’s a click and then Steven’s cheerful voice in your ear, and for the briefest of seconds, relief rushes through your veins.

“Hiya, this is Steven. I’m not in right now, but leave me a message, and I’ll ring you back as soon as I can. Laters, Gators.”

You stare at the phone in disbelief. Bile rises until you can taste it, sharp and burning, on your tongue.

Steven going missing out of the blue on you is hardly novel, but his random disappearances have never made you feel like this before. Experience dictates that Steven will come back safe and sound in a day or two (or a week or two). Right now, however, that knowledge does nothing to dull the panic clawing at your throat, and it takes you a minute before you realise why this is so much worse than all the times that have come before.

In the past, the worst case scenario was that he’d ghosted you. One more wanker who’d decided to dump you without so much as a courtesy text. But now you know better. Steven wouldn’t do that. He’s not disappearing on you by choice. He’s gone because someone else, Marc has taken over. And taken him away.

Now, you’re pacing the length of your flat, nearly in tears, the worst case scenario something you cannot even begin to fathom.

For all you know, this Marc person has decided that you’ve gotten too close to the truth. Maybe he came to the conclusion that it’s too dangerous to have you around Steven. Maybe, last night was the last time you’ll ever get to see him.

Back and forth you go across the room, wearing down the carpet pile as your mind spirals with worry. You pop the band on your old wristwatch in and out of place as you go, nails digging into your wrist as you tug at it until you slip and the metal pin jabs your wrist.

Then you spot it: the writing on your hand. The long string of numbers, ten digits in all, that Marc had written on the centre of your palm last night.

In a mad scramble, you dig up a notebook and quickly copy them down for safekeeping. You spend the rest of the day trying to decipher their meaning.

Your first thought is that it’s a phone number, but when you try dialling it, you get an automated message that no such number exists.

Your next theory is that the numbers might be coordinates. But when you attempt to plot them using an online grid reference finder, the results are meaningless. Depending on how you input the digits they point you to a handful of different locations—China, Romania, the middle of the Celtic Sea—none of which mean anything to you. The majority of the number combinations you try do not exist at any known map locations.

Panicked by your failure, your mind scrambles for other possible explanations. Thinking that it might be a mathematical equation or a password of some kind, you pull out your calculator and another notebook, trying to make any sort of sense of the only hint you've been given.

By the time you leave for work Monday morning, your desk is starting to look like a landfill. The wooden surface is littered with crumpled up paper and sticky-notes filled with nonsensical scribbles of numbers and letters that were the results of randomly adding, subtracting and dividing the ten numbers on your hand. If anyone walked in on your flat, they would think you’re a particularly unhinged conspiracy theorist.

In all fairness, they wouldn’t be too far off, because you’re beginning to feel a bit like one. Haring off on one pointless wild goose chase after another, halfway to plotting out your suspicions on the wall with pins and string.

More days go by, and you spend every waking moment (and many moments you should be sleeping) trying to solve the mystery. It becomes a consuming obsession. You’re distracted both at home and at work, your poor coworkers forced to pick up the slack while your mind stays firmly on the puzzle of Steven.

Your lack of sleep leads to increasingly wild theories. You’re convinced that those ten digits are somehow the key to everything. An unfounded belief based on nothing but your own desperate hope that if you manage to crack the code, a congratulation banner and confetti will fall from the sky with a big bow-wrapped present containing Steven as the final prize.

Unfortunately, you’re not the best at puzzles, and the galling irony is that the most qualified person to solve this riddle is the very same person you’re desperately missing.

By the time you leave work on Thursday, you’re frustrated, exhausted from sustaining a near-frantic level of worry, and no closer to finding a solution than you were at the start. Steven is still out there somewhere, and you decide that you’ve waited long enough. Maybe even too long. He could have had his kidney harvested and be half-dead in an alley for all you know. Hurt and dying, while you’ve wasted time grasping at straws.

You’ve decided to finally file a missing person’s report with the police when you exit the tube to find a new text notification on your phone.

+x xxx xxx xxxx He’s safe.

You stare at the message for a long time, too overcome with relief to immediately make the connection between the numbers on your hand and your phone screen. When the epiphany hits, you feel like the dumbest person alive. Ten numbers… It wasn’t a puzzle or some obscure treasure hunt to lead you to Steven. It’s Marc’s bloody mobile number. It’s an American mobile number and he didn’t include the fucking country code

He’s safe. Steven’s safe.

Wiping what is close to the beginning of tears on your sleeve, you pull the phone closer and type out a message in reply.

You Is Steven okay? Where is he?

There’s no answer.

Not that evening or the day after. And the relief you felt at first slowly drains away.

The text is a consolation prize. It’s not Steven wrapped with a bow and wrapping paper. This is not the answer you needed, but, you try to remind yourself, at least it’s something.

Steven is safe.

You repeat it like a mantra in your head, and it gives you some comfort… for a while. Soon it's overtaken by an intrusive voice asking a question that you don’t want to hear.

But what if he isn’t?

Any residual consolation you were feeling gives way, and anxiety overwhelms you as you imagine all the terrible scenarios that could have befallen Steven, each more horrifying and improbable than the last.

You can't shake the paranoia that the matching numbers are just a coincidence. There's nothing in the text itself that says it’s from Marc. Or about Steven. It could just as easily be a timely telephone scam.

Is there anyone who hasn’t received a random automated call informing them that someone they know has been in a car accident? There are thousands of these calls a day in the UK, scammers hoping to find some dimwit waiting for a call from a loved one.

Maybe today, you’re the dimwit.

You can count the hours of sleep you’ve gotten since Steven disappeared on one hand.

You need to sleep, but even as exhausted as you are, you just can’t. Instead, you're having a staring competition with your ceiling, and so far you’re winning.

You’re worrying yet again about Steven. You wonder where he is. If he’s really safe. What he—or Marc—has been doing all this time.

A full week has gone by, and you still haven’t heard anything from Steven himself. You haven’t had any further communication from the unknown number that may or may not be Marc either.

Marc.

Rolling onto your side, you stare off into the darkness of your flat.

The concept of Marc is still an enigma to you. As far as you can tell, he’s entirely distinct from Steven. Not only are his mannerisms different, but he calls himself by another name and talks about Steven as if they’re separate people.

There is another person inside of Steven that is markedly not Steven.

In the complete darkness of your flat, your sleep deprived brain tries to make sense of what that actually means, but you can’t. There’s so much you don’t know.

Rolling back across the bed the other way, you reach for your phone.

Midnight is not the ideal time to do research, but what does it matter? You’re not likely to sleep regardless.

Your first pit stop is Google, but that does you no favours. As always, no matter what symptoms you put into the search bar, WebMD is determined to convince you that it’s cancer.

Instead, you end up trawling through NHS’ homepage well past midnight, ending up in a wormhole of health issues until you land on the symptoms for Dissociative Identity Disorder:

They may feel the presence of other identities, each with their own names, voices, personal histories and mannerisms.

The main symptoms of DID are:

» memory gaps about everyday events and personal information

» having several distinct identities

And there it is, written in plain Arial font. The conclusion you’ve been trying not to jump to. The inescapable reality behind all those red flags Steven’s been waving in front of your nose from the very start.

You stare at the words on the page, reading and re-reading them. You don’t know what to think or how you feel about your discovery. The only thing you do know is that you are wholly unqualified to handle any of this.

As far as you know, you've never met anyone—anyone else?—with DID. Your only previous exposure to the disorder has been through movies like Psycho, Split, Basic Instinct… Movies that depict the character with a mental health condition as a psychotic murderer or one in the making with sensationalist glee.

You don’t believe that of course. You know better than to expect sensitive and accurate representation from Hollywood blockbusters. That’s a bit like reading The Sun and expecting truthful and unbiased news reports.

The problem is that knowing all of this doesn’t solve anything.

All you do know is that you miss Steven. You’re scared—terrified for him—and want him back with you.

Fuck Marc for taking him away.

The devil himself must have heard you, his ears burning. Your phone pings out in the silence at that moment, interrupting your thoughts. The screen flashes, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness before you can read the incoming message.

+x xxx xxx xxxx Steven will be back tomorrow. Don’t mention me.

You stare at the phone as you reread the text once and then again. There’s no ambiguity this time; there can’t possibly be.

Back.

Steven.

Steven is coming back to you.

You barely have time to rejoice over the fact before those last three words hit you. Their meaning settles heavily in your gut, burning at the lining of your stomach until you think you might be sick all over your duvet.

It’s a warning. The wolf is at your door.

And just like that, the curtain’s pulled back, and you see Steven’s disappearance for what it is: a sick display of the power Marc holds over him. Over you both. A demonstration of how your life with Steven continues only at his whim. Those three words are an order and a stomach churning threat all in one.

Mention Marc, reveal his existence to Steven, and he will take Steven from you.

For the first time, you understand why Steven has always been alone, and anger burns in your blood. Steven is being held hostage in his own body, and he doesn’t even know it. And you’re being blackmailed into lying to the man you love.

You want to tell Steven the truth immediately. You want to scream it from the bloody rooftops.

But you don’t want to lose him.

Selfish as it may be, you want to keep Steven in your life for as long as you can. At the very least, if you’re together, maybe you can protect him from Marc. Make sure he’s safe.

Isn’t that better than telling Steven the whole truth only to have Marc take him away from you? The only thing that would achieve is to relegate Steven back to a life of loneliness.

No. It wouldn’t do any good to tell Steven now. You can’t go in blindly when Marc has such a strong upper hand. You need more information, a plan, or at least some kind of strategy before you risk doing anything that might result in Steven being spirited away from you again.

With your ear pressed to your pillow, you stare at the text, struggling to keep your eyes open. You turn the brightness up so far that it’s painful to look at, blinking away sleep until you’re unable to fight it anymore.

A knock on the door wakes you.

Squinting one eye open, you find the room flooded with light, bright and blinding. Your mouth tastes like harsh cotton, and your throat is sore when you swallow.

You don’t know when you fell asleep last night, but it’s five to eight now according to your alarm clock. Your shoulders are stiff and aching, body protesting the lack of rest.

Sleep concussed as you are, you fumble towards the door, relying on memory rather than sight to navigate your surroundings. You don’t even make it to the middle of the room before you trip over your ottoman.

Pain shoots out from the nub of your toe, and you barely manage to stop yourself from face planting. With a curse and a pending bruise forming on your foot, you hobble the rest of the way towards your door and unlock it. In your struggle, you don’t even bother to check the peephole to see who is at your door.

You slide the door open, scarcely paying attention. At first, all you see is a much-too-loud novelty print and flowers wrapped in cellophane in the open doorway. Your brain stalls for several heartbeats, before you drag your eyes upwards.

It’s Steven.

Sporting messy hair and an ill-fitting jumper, at least two sizes too large, he’s standing in front of you, hugging a fresh bouquet of flowers to his chest.

“Hiya,” he greets you with a small wave of his free hand, a besotted smile on his face as though everything in his world is just as it should be.

You blink. For a second, everything slows. You’re not sure if you’re ready to allow yourself to believe that this is real. If this is a dream, the disappointment of waking up with him not here will break you.

“I got us some breakfast,” Steven says and steps inside, clumsily closing the door behind him with the side of his shoulder, “and there were these tulips at Sainsburys. Pink, your favourite.”

He's here. Steven's actually here.

His face beams with pride as he looks up at you. “I know you said to stop getting flowers unless there’s an actual special occasion, but I thought spending the morning together after our first official sleepover is pretty special, and more importantly–”

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t know. Steven clearly still thinks it’s the morning after. Doesn’t realise that a whole week has gone by since he spent the night here.

Putting the flowers down on your kitchen counter, he turns to face you, holding up a wax paper bag with a delighted smile.

“Et voilà! Croissants au chocolat for the lady. I’ll just pop them in the microwave real quick—I know you like them hot—and then I’ll make us some tea, yeah?”

Steven is in your home, standing in the kitchen, smiling at you and spoiling you rotten, like he hadn't just disappeared off the face of the earth for a week. Because as far as Steven's aware, he’s been here with you all night after falling asleep watching animal documentaries.

Right now, in front of you, he’s acting out the morning-after the two of you were supposed to have but a week too late, making you the breakfast he promised.

Your throat closes, and a liquid burn rises in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You can feel the threat of tears behind your eyes.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Steven drops the bag of croissants onto the counter and rushes over to you. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

“No. I just–” You take a shaky breath, trying to collect yourself.

Breaking down now won’t do either of you any good. You can’t tell him what’s wrong. Not without risking him being taken away forever.

“I’m happy you’re here," you say, trying to fake a smile.

You’re a rubbish liar. Always have been. It’s no surprise that Steven doesn’t buy it for a second.

"Those are obviously not happy tears, love. What's going on? Have I done something wrong?"

His hands draw up to cup your face, one thumb skimming gently over the single tear that’s escaped onto your cheek. He tilts your chin up until you meet his gaze, and it’s like something clicks behind those sharp eyes.

"It's because I wasn't here when you woke up, isn't it?" he asks gently.

You bite your lip. It’s such an oversimplification of what’s happened, but you don’t know how else to explain it to him, so you nod. A half-truth at best, but at least it’s only a lie by omission.

"’Course it is,” he soothes. “That would bother anyone, yeah?"

You let yourself collapse against him, hugging him tight around the middle as you bury your face in his chest. He lets out a quiet oof, but you refuse to let go and despite his obvious physical discomfort, Steven doesn't protest. He wraps his arms reassuringly around you, blanketing himself around you in comforting warmth.

“I’m sorry, I should have left a note. Don’t know why I didn’t. I was so sleep deprived that I don’t even remember leaving this morning. I must’ve thought it was only going to take a second, but the next thing I know, I’m in the dairy aisle and this lady with a stroller is looking at me funny."

One large, gentle hand smooths over your shirt at the small of your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the warmth of the doting touch.

"I'm sorry," he says again, voice soft, "I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Closing your eyes, you take a second to let the comfort of his words and his arms around you seep in. You tilt your head upwards, pressing your nose to the hollow dip of his throat, right below his Adam's apple. He smells faintly of stale air and alcohol, covered up by the unfamiliar scent of cheap hotel soap. Your chest squeezes painfully at the reminder of his double life, one that neither of you know the details of.

Even with Steven here in your arms, you cannot escape the reality that you’ll always have to share him with something you cannot understand.

You don't move, instead, you press your mouth to that same spot on his throat, feeling his pulse beat steadily against your lips.

He's here, the beat says. He's safe, he's alive.

Nuzzling into the delicate skin, you’re rewarded with a keen gasp that makes the small hairs on your neck rise. His fingers flex against your waist with that familiar trademark hesitation, before settling there, hardly even resting against you.

After all this time, it’s like he’s still scared you’re going to tell him no. As if your relationship is some kind of practical joke on him, and if he reaches for you first, you’ll laugh in his face.

He was too afraid to mention the first night in case you’d get upset. He thought you were going to break up with him when you said you two needed to talk. It’s almost funny in a macabre sort of way that Steven doesn’t realise just how deep you’re in it over him. If he only knew of the sleepless nights you’ve suffered. How you’ve been sick to your stomach over missing him. Willing to bargain with the devil just to get to keep him.

You kiss him again, trying to use his closeness to drown out all the things you can’t say. Pressing your lips to that sweet little spot where his jaw meets his throat. You do your best to savour the hint of stubble that tickles against your bottom lip.

Steven shivers and then pulls back slightly, ducking his head to close the distance between your lips. A barely there touch, then Steven’s thumb catches behind your ear, timidly guiding you closer.

That one kiss continues into several small chaste kisses, each press of his lips soft and devoted like he’s thanking you for letting him. It’s so pure, the kind of kisses that have your toes curling in delight and your ears tingling. But it’s restrained in a way that you’ve not got the patience for right now.

Not after a whole week of his absence. Not when you’ve spent those seven days unsure if you would ever get to see him again. You want so much more than this. Can’t bear the fraction of a moment when his lips are not on yours when he breaks up his kisses to allow you to catch your breath.

You want all of him all at once.

Your hand clutches at the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer. His breath stutters, mouth parting slightly, and you take the opportunity to lick over the swell of his bottom lip before you bite down, trying to be gentle.

It must be the reassurance Steven needs, because he groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening. His hands dig into the plump flesh above your hips, kneading it with strong fingers, and there it is, that eagerness and hunger for you that you’re heedlessly in love with. The duality of Steven Grant. It's desperate, sweet and almost aggressive. One hand moves to grip the base of your neck, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest, eliminating the last of the physical distance between you.

It’s exactly what you need, and for a long, hot, breathless moment, you’re not thinking of anything except him. When he finally breaks off the kiss, you lean after him, chasing his lips.

“Bed?” he asks, the word a low rasp against your seeking mouth.

You nod eagerly and grab for him, recapturing his lips and giving him a tug in the right direction.

It’s clumsy and desperate as you let Steven manoeuvre the two of you through your flat. You’re blindly walking backwards, guided only by Steven’s outstretched hand fumbling against the surfaces of the wall to make sure you don’t bump into furniture.

You kiss him like you’ve been held under water, deprived of air and his beautiful mouth is oxygen filling your lungs. Every step is an uncoordinated mess that nearly has you tipping over if it wasn’t for Steven holding you upright. It’d be far easier if you only let go. Would only take seconds in your tiny flat to get from the kitchen to the bed. But you’re not willing and Steven is only happy to indulge you.

His mouth is warm and slick, hands large and firm. The warmth of his body against yours, comforting and alive. It’s all you can focus on as you forget your surroundings. Until something heavy and blunt pushes back against the inside of your calf.

The surprise makes you lose your balance. You fall backwards, the whole room tilting as you’re sent sprawling. When things stop moving, you find yourself flat on your back, less than half a foot away from your bed. You’re still staring up at Steven’s shocked face and outstretched hands when you realise what (literally) hit you.

Bloody cockblocking ottoman.

The pitched dark hunger disappears from those brown eyes in an instant. Instead they’ve gone round and doelike with concern as Steven rushes forward, falling to his knees in front of you, and draws your leg into his lap.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more careful and watched where we were going. Bloody stupid of me, I practically pushed you. Are you hurt?”

“It’s fine, Steven. I’m fine. You didn’t push me. It’s alright,” you tell him.

But his eyes are already darting over your lower leg, and his hands quickly follow, gingerly rubbing your ankle and feeling up over your calf with great care, making your skin prickles under his fingers. It’s a credible imitation of Florence Nightingale, but as sweet as it is to have Steven tend to you, it's not the sort of attention you want from him right now.

"Leave off the fussing, please?" you ask him softly.

“Should we–maybe I should get you on the bed yeah? You might be hurt and–”

Leaning up, you place kisses on his jaw, his cheeks, the swell of his lip, hoping to distract him. "I need you, Steven. Don't stop. I don't want to stop right now."

His eyes are still wide and worried, as his hand smooths over the bend of your knee in comfort. “You’re sure you're alright? That I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure.” You grab his collar and lean back, dragging him on top of you as you lie back onto the floor.

Steven follows, letting you pull him down without a hint of resistance, and clambering forward until he’s completely above you. His large frame looms over yours on the floor, thick thighs straddling your waist, and you’re reminded all over again that one of your favourite facets of Steven is how cooperative he is. Always so eager to please you, and you have zero compunction about taking advantage.

“Take this off,” you order, tugging at his jumper impatiently.

He nods hastily. “Right, right.”

Ever so good at following your orders, Steven’s hand immediately reaches for the bottom of the garment. He grabs the hem and pulls, revealing a tantalising sliver of golden skin above the waistband of his trousers. You’re so focused on the slowly widening swath of his bare stomach, that it’s not until he pauses, a clumsy snarl of fabric tangled around his head and shoulders, that you realise he’s attempted to take off his jumper and the shirt beneath all in one go and gotten himself stuck.

Honestly, you’re not even surprised. On any other occasion, you’d be smiling at his adorable ridiculousness, but it's been a week. One hundred and sixty-eight endless hours since you’ve gotten to hold him and touch him like this—uncertain if you’d ever get to—and now each additional second of delay feels like an eternity.

Finally, with another sloppy tug and an impatient groan, the tangled mess of clothing gives, and Steven’s bare-chested on top of you. He’s all strong, sleek muscles, as gorgeous and well-defined as those cut from marble on statues of Greek deities displayed in the very same museums that Steven himself tends to.

It should’ve been obvious from the start. You want to burst out in laughter at your own naivety. Why on earth would a man who works at a gift shop and spends his free time with his nose buried in dusty old books have a body like this? How has Steven never questioned his own physique? Does he think that all men just wake up looking like this without any effort?

The sun from the window shines soft over his shoulder and arms. The thin gold chain dangles from his long neck, glistening in the light. He is all warm and golden, soft for your hands to freely wander over the bare expanse of his skin.

Your hand cups the back of his neck, teasing at those ridiculously soft curls with your fingers, before scraping the base of his scalp with the gentlest strength. You’re marvelling at how prettily his eyelashes flutter and the way he sighs with a blissful shiver makes you smile.

Sliding down, your hand roams over the carved muscle of his shoulder blade, over his back, pressing a line of soft kisses on the column of his neck. They flex under your touch, as Steven keens softly and you take comfort in the fact that if there was ever proof that Steven is here with you, it’s this. The heavy weight of him on top of you. The fast beating pulse of his throat under your lips. The feel of him hardening against your belly.

Reaching for his belt, you fumble with the buckle until it finally gives with a metallic clank. Then you shove one greedy hand under the loose waistband of his trousers, slipping it into his underwear.

He’s hot and hard. Flesh smooth to your touch. Your fingers curl around the thick girth, giving him a firm, indulgent stroke, from base to blunt tip, tracing every ridge. Steven gasps and shudders at your touch, slumping forward like he’s unable to support his own weight and pressing his forehead into your collarbone with a quiet whine.

You close your eyes at the sound of it, feeling him all around you.

This is what you’ve been missing, what you’ve been desperately needing, all week. Immersing yourself in the moment—in him—as fully as possible, you draw in a deep breath and give him another stroke just to hear him make that noise again. You let his reassuring presence wash over you, try to let it convince you that he’s really here.

Wherever he’s been this last week, he’s here, right now, with you.

Then suddenly he’s not.

Out of nowhere, the protective weight and warmth of him is rising away. Alarm crowds your senses, and in a moment of instinctual panic, your hand shoots up, grabbing his arm.

"Don't go!"

You open your eyes to find Steven still right there next to you. He's frozen with one hand outstretched above the open drawer of your nightstand, a look of shocked surprise on his face.

Oh God. He wasn’t going anywhere at all, he was just getting a condom.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassed heat at the realisation.

"Sorry," you mumble, and you duck your chin, "I just–" You don't know how to explain away your massive overreaction, and guilt claws even deeper into your chest as you find yourself offering up yet another half-lie.

"I had a nightmare that you left. Disappeared, and I couldn’t find you.”

You can’t believe it’s your own voice that you’re hearing. It sounds so small. Ugly in its neediness. If this was any other man, you’re sure they’d be running for the hills by now. It’s a miracle Steven hasn’t. “It’s silly. Sorry.”

Steven frowns with sympathy, worry etched all around his beautiful eyes. "You don’t have to be sorry, love." He closes the drawer, condom in hand. Then he's leaning back down to press his lips to your hairline. “It’s not silly.”

"But hey, listen,” he murmurs, resting his forehead briefly against yours. “I’m not going anywhere, am I? No. Not except maybe down to the shops."

One warm hand comes to cup your face, and he’s looking at you with so much sincerity that it takes your breath away.

"I would never leave you. Never. Not ever, I swear. Not so long as you’ll have me.” He says it with such utter conviction that pain washes over you anew.

Because it’s not really up to Steven, is it? He may not be able to stay with you, regardless of what he wants.

“You don’t know that."

The unfairness of the situation, his powerlessness over his own life, has tears pushing hot behind your eyes.

“Then I'll come back, simple as that. No matter what happens. Even if the bloody sky falls down. Even if a fleet of flying saucers brings an army of funny little green men straight out of Mars Attacks to invade the earth tomorrow, I'll still come back to you. Always, alright? I'll always come back to you.”

The lump still sits heavily in your throat, but you choke out an amused laugh at the imagery Steven draws for you. He smiles victoriously in return. It lights the whole room, and you reach for him again, wrapping your arms around his neck because you need to pull him close and kiss him.

In this moment, you allow yourself to believe. Against all flashing red signs pointing otherwise, you choose to believe that he will keep this promise. That whatever circumstances arise, even if Marc takes him away again, Steven will always come back to you.

“Okay,” you say, with a smile stretching wide across your lips, and you can feel the dark weight lifting as you nod at him.

Steven mirrors your smile, returning your kiss and that’s all it takes before the last morsel of doubt lifts.

His hands reach down, shimmying his trousers down his ample hips. You help him, hooking your thumb at the hem to drag them down the rest of the way, and he kicks them off his ankle.

Then finally, the warmth of his bare thighs is against yours, and you both gasp. It’s fucking bliss to feel him like this. Naked and warm, pressed up against every inch of you, his weight holding you down against the floor, the length of him lying hard and heavy against your belly.

He anchors himself on one elbow, as he rips the foil wrapper, lifting off of you slightly.

You miss the contact immediately. It’s like the week apart has left you even more attuned to him, hyper-aware of all the places you’re no longer touching. You watch impatiently as he turns to one side just enough to give himself room, rolling the condom down over his cock with gratifying speed.

His hands are steady, his movements sure, nothing like that first night where both of you struggled to make sense of the stubborn rubber in the near-dark of his flat. By now, the two of you have done this often enough that Steven knows every step of the routine like the back of his hand, clumsy eagerness replaced by practised ease.

Anticipation and longing beat loud in your chest at the sight of him, eyes dark, cock in hand as he positions himself at your entrance. You reach for him, unable to stand the distance between the two of you, and he smiles fondly at you and leans down obligingly, resting his bodyweight on top of yours like a heavy blanket.

It’s fucking perfect. Exactly what you need, and your body opens for him, knees falling outward, hips canting up, heels digging into the floor as you arch up, trying to press yourself closer.

He grinds forward, the underside of his cock sliding slick and wet over your folds. Pleasure rises hot and overwhelming between your thighs at the stimulation, and an unflattering high-pitched noise escapes from the corner of your lungs. It’s like your whole body is strung on a thin line of thread. Overwhelmed by the barest contact after a week of having none. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive having him inside you when this already feels like so much. You wonder if he feels it too.

Opening your eyes, you see the boyish grin on his face, radiating with pride. He does it again, angling his hips to thrust up as the blunt head of his cock glides wetly over your clit and oh fucking–

Your hips jerk up involuntarily, pressing harder against him, and Steven gasps, eyes going wide and dark, that teasing grin wiped right off his face.

“Fuck, Steven–God. I need–” Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders, and you don’t know what you’re trying to say—not sure if you want him to stop or do it again—but it doesn’t matter. You never get to finish the rest of your sentence.

The thick ridge of his cock slips wetly inside you, and the sweet stretch of him, white and blinding, crowds out every other thought in your head. Your cunt squeezes around him at the thick intrusion, and you both moan at the tight pressure.

He halts, stilling inside you, and dear fucking god, he’s not even all the way in.

“God, love. You’re squeezing me so tight,” Steven gasps out, “Feels bloody amazing.” The words are soft, but there’s a clear strain in his voice, and his arms are trembling at your sides from the exertion of keeping still.

He still doesn’t move, and you’re not sure if he needs a moment or is trying to give you one. “I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I can't be all the way inside you. Can I–”

He hovers above you, and you can feel his cock jerking and straining against you, the only part of his body he can’t fully control. You can’t help the way your body clenches and shivers in response, and he groans, resting his forehead against yours for a long moment as you pant heavily against each other’s lips.

“Is it alright for me to keep going?” he asks, eventually.

You try to say yes, but all that comes out is a breathless, choked out sob, as you nod at him frantically.

It’s all Steven needs. His hips push forward, pressing the rest of the way into you in one long, smooth stroke. The feeling is electric, robbing you of the ability to process anything except the way he fills you, stretching you out as he buries every inch of himself inside you. You can’t think. Can barely breathe. He’s embedded so deeply that there’s no space left in your lungs.

After a long moment, he starts to pull out just as slowly, his eyes fixed on yours. The pace is maddening, a thick, glacial drag that makes you feel every gorgeous inch of him. It leaves you gasping and writhing under him as he continues to retreat until only the tip still rests inside of you.

Then he does it all again.

He’s so different when he’s like this. His eyes focused, any trace of timidness gone. Everything else, all his usual hesitation and fear and doubt, seems to fade away when he’s inside you. It’s like you’re the only thing in his world—you and the need to make you feel good.

Drawing two of his fingers to his mouth, he slides them between his plush lips, and you can see his tongue tracing around them before he pulls them out again, glistening with spit for you. It’s entirely unnecessary. You’re so wet it’s leaking down the length of him and onto the inside of your thighs. But the sight makes your heart race all the same.

Steven reaches down between your bodies, hand resting above the apex of your thighs where his cock is still nestled inside you. His fingers slide, ever so gently over the slippery, sensitive flesh where you’re stretched wide around him.

“Feel that, love?” he breathes into your open mouth, “I’m right here. You’ve got me.”

His thumb catches at your clit as he gently presses down, and it has you spasming from the sharp pleasure. He gasps, jerking slightly above you, but doesn’t stop.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He continues to draws small, persistent circles over and over your clit that squeezes the very air out of your lungs, replacing everything, with a needy heat.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation. Tears stinging in the corner of your lids.

It’s still not enough. You want more of him. Need to get closer.

You press your heels hard against the floor, trying to get better leverage, and grip frantically at his back. Nails biting into his skin, you claw at his shoulder blades as though you’re trying to dig your way in so deep that he’ll never be able to tear himself away from you again. It’s selfish, and you know it must be hurting him, but you can’t seem to be able to stop yourself.

Steven doesn’t stop you either. It’s like he knows that you still need more, and he rolls his hips into you, thrusting deep. His hand grips at the underside of your knees, pulling your legs to wrap them around his waist to let you squeeze your thighs around him, heels digging into the curve of his ass.

It feels like another way of telling you he’s here. Yours to use. Yours to have. Just… yours.

“Never gonna leave,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the lobe as if to seal his promise.

Right now you don’t care if it’s a promise that he might not be able to keep. Not when pleasure, bright and blistering, is surging through you with every roll of his hips. It’s too much, bordering on unbearable. You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, just soft murmurs and vague shushing.

It doesn’t matter, because his body is telling you all you need to know.

Because for all of Steven’s calm and reassuring words, his actions don’t match. His actions are telling you a different story—a more desperate one—full of grasping hands, deep urgent thrusts, and bitten-off gasps. It’s like his body knows how long you’ve been apart and what it’s been missing, even if his mind doesn’t.

His hand palms at your ribs, fingers digging deep crevices in your flesh, holding you tight like he means never to let go.

Mine, it says. Possessive and hungry.

His mouth, for all its loving dulcet tones and cooing, never seems to leave your skin for long, sliding over your throat and jaw as if magnetised.

Yours, it promises, just as certainly.

He thrusts inside you, his hands find the bare backs of your thighs as he hooks one leg over his arm, and the new angle has him sliding in impossibly deep until it knocks the air out of your ribs. For a long blissful moment, you swear your whole chest cage is going to collapse.

His cock hits somewhere earth-shattering, and you arch up off the floor, curling into him with a shivering gasp. Heat crackles through every limb, swirling and swelling, sweet and insistent in anticipation of your climax. It settles deep in your belly, raw and heavy, soothed only by each insistent thrust.

He’s so deep you swear you feel him everywhere, buried inside you like he’s trying to stake a claim and never leave.

You hope he never does.

Pushing your hips up to him, you chase the feeling of him hitting that perfect spot, as the warm heat of it flutters in your stomach with each deep stroke. It won’t take much, you’re almost there–

But you don’t want this to end. Not yet. You want to keep Steven right here inside of you for as long as you possibly can.

You try to relax the tension in your legs, try to push your hips back down to stave it off. But it’s no good, Steven’s hands are still on you, manhandling you into a position where you can’t escape the perfect, relentless press of his cock inside you.

Not yet, not yet, not yet…

But it’s already there, at the tip of your fingers, so close you can taste it on your tongue. A promise of rapture, whether you want it to or not, and you want to scream and cry and fight the sensation that taunts you as it hangs there. But you can’t seem to do any of those things. It’s like you’ve lost control of your body, your hips lock tight, your throat feels tight and– fuck fuck, you’re–

“Steven, please. Not yet, I’m–” Your eyes squeeze shut, hands clawing at the carpet, searching for something to ground yourself with.

“I’m right here, love,” he murmurs, hand reaching for yours until he finds it and pins it next to your head. He clasps your hand tightly in his, weaving each one of his fingers between yours. “Right here. It’s alright. Let go for me.”

That’s all it takes. The floor underneath gives under, opening up and swallowing you whole. You feel like you’re floating and falling all at once as you clamour for Steven and hold him close as you fall through the cracks off the edge of the earth.

Your legs latch around the middle of his waist as you wring out every ounce and drop of the sensation you can. It rushes through you, ripe and overfull, filling every strand of every vein. You’re disorientated, the world narrowing into nothingness. The only thing that still exists is Steven.

All you can hear is the way his breath is stuttering with effort.

Can feel the way his even pace falters. Can see the way his brows knit in concentration, his face painted with bliss.

God, he’s beautiful like this.

Steven comes with a broken groan.

It’s so much and so deep and somehow you still want more. Want the feel of him raw and bare inside. Even that thin separation of not even a millimetre of rubber is too great of a separator for you to bear right now. All you want is to feel him spill himself inside you, thick and warm.

His body goes still and rigid, and then the strength in him gives under, nearly collapsing over you. He stops himself at the last second with a slam of his fist on the floor next to you, bent arms trembling with strain in an effort to keep himself upright.

It’s a sweet and considerate gesture. He doesn’t want to flatten you with his weight. It’s also completely unnecessary because there’s nothing you want more in this moment.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down the rest of the way. It doesn’t take much of your strength, his elbow gives in and bends further, until he’s flush against you, sweaty and heavy limbs entangling with yours.

Despite the unbearable stickiness and heat from your exertion, Steven holds you, chest still heaving against yours. His thin necklace slips delicately down over your collarbone, cool where it rests against your overheated skin. The golden pendant is pressed intimately between your breast and his chest.

The morning sun washes over everything inside your flat in a golden hue. Even the dull white of your walls turns into something warm and amber. The only sound permeating the peace is the sound of morning traffic outside. A busted old moped races down the street. Children shouting over a game of tag. The honking of cars trying to get somewhere fast. Outside it is loud, hectic and chaotic.

But right here, inside the safe bubble of your tiny flat, Steven is warm and heavy over you, the beat of his heart drumming against your chest in a steady pace.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you ask.

He kisses your forehead, uncaring of the way your skin is sticky with sweat, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he squeezes your hand firmly in his.

“‘Course we can, love. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

~ CONTINUE ~

Once again thanks for everyone coming along for this ride. We're hoping to be posting this on a semi-regular schedule of every two weeks. For anyone who wants to be tagged please sign up to the tag list linked on the series masterlist.

We are beyond grateful for all the comments, reblogs and likes and just interest on this series, and while I can be a bit rubbish at replying sometimes, please know that your words and support inspires us to keep going with this series. 🥰

Dedication & Credits:

It takes a village huh, guys?

All my broken dishes to @the-ginger-hedge-witch because when I told her I wanted Steven to get to rawdog it, she went, "absolutely not, not when Marc is out there whoring around for all we know." (I may or may not be rephrasing but that was the sentiment).

To @radiowallet for listening to my insane and uninformed ramblings about Moon Knight and for giving me a firm guide and steering on how to write our beloved Moon Boys and making sure that everything tracks.

To @write-and-buried for inspiring me with the most absolutely deranged filthy suggestions when my smut inspiration well runs dry. I got really stuck in the sex scene for this one when I decided to in the 11th hour add a sex scene because "it felt right" then proceeding to panic cause I forgot how to write smut and she got me back on track.

And always and forever to my co-writer @thirstworldproblemss who had stayed up endless nights with me discussing the finer details of how twitchy a cock should be, how much it should leak. This series would not exist without her, she turns the rubbish I write into diamonds, she goes through every sentence once-twice-three times and she is always responsible for the best lines in every chapter, her voice for Steven is unparalleled, and I find myself falling more and more in love with this world because of her. I would not be writing this story, and most likely, at all, if it weren't for her and our friendship.

#oscar isaac #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marvel #mcu #moon knight x you #cici writes #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #cici moon knight

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aquickstart · 4 months

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pls may i have some saltburn takes. i saw u liked my post abt oliver never having read the reading list and it made me giggle.

OH YES DUDE oh i Loved that post because it brings up actually something that for some reason i haven't seen discussed much. oliver's unreliable narration.

i have a brilliant, i think, genius four-question plan for making people understand saltburn, and it has worked before and i will maybe elaborate on it, but not right now. right now i'll talk about one of the questions.

who is oliver telling this story to, and why?

we've established that he's an unreliable narrator at least because it's the logical conclusion for a movie shot in a way that opens and closes with his narrative. but what does oliver being untruthful actually mean for what we know about anything and everything that happened. have you ever obsessed over this particular question. well. i have.

my hot take, first of all, is that oliver is not that smart. he's clever, but the point of the movie is that he's caught up in and driven by desire; desire, pointedly, in the moment, merging desire, adapting to circumstance and leading him on. his want is not concrete from the beginning. his want is insatiable hunger that grows.

so, okay, from the top. the whole meet-cute with felix? because of a punctured tire? eh. idk if that's true. the money thing at the bar, pretending to not have any while he actually did? eh, perhaps. chronologically he then lies to felix about his dad, and this is big, this is deliberate, this is what ties felix to him for good.

what if the first two instances were coincidences? like, felix genuinely in trouble then, oliver genuinely out of cash. makes sense to become attached and actually do something, something impulsive, drastic, when felix seems to be drifting away, and lie about his dad.

interjection: you might be saying, nadia, he lied about his family from the get-go. well of course. i didn't say he's not smart enough to clock what image of a damsel in distress felix would gobble up. i'm saying he didn't do it for the long game, because there was no long game to speak of, as narrator-oliver would have you believe. i think he wanted felix so badly in that moment of several months in oxford, i think he was so blinded that he would've said anything. and he did.

now, i've briefly talked about oliver's feelings about the invitation to saltburn, and i think this is very important here. in the moment, he couldn't possibly know what exactly this invitation could mean, in the long run, only that it is definitely the next step in progression of desire for felix. present-day oliver interjection, and i believed him, after felix said he could leave anytime, i read as a slip up, an admission that oliver didn't plan shit, or at least from the beginning he didn't. it lured him in as soon as he got there, gothic house driving mad-style. he held on to a dream of something elusive (felix as a friend? lover? forever-partner in whatever capacity? i want him so bad i don't care what he is as long as he's there? please? please?).

the other obvious hole to poke at is in the end. venetia very conveniently takes the razors he places for her, and while sure, it could be read as him just hinting at how he conveniently read her fragile state and took advantage of it, i don't buy it. (i'm honestly even tempted to suggest he met elspeth on accident, to then spin a pretty story for his own sake, but him keeping tabs on the surviving cattons all those years tracks with what we know about obsessive oliver; he's definitely known about her flat for a while.)

but those are all minor stuff. i get completely if you think i'm reading too much into it and this is all just a headcanon after all, to be fair. BUT. but.

my second big take is that oliver was/is madly in love with felix. i know, shocking. but you have probably seen people say he wasn't. i will elaborate.

i wasn't in love with him. i loved him. i hated him. what does this sound like. have you ever had a friend come to you after a breakup fuming and telling you how they'll never end up with this asshole for sure and then get back together with him and then break up and say the same thing again.

i loved him, but i wasn't in love with him. i know everyone thought i was, but i wasn't. have you never told anyone something of the sort, specifically the last part, to emphasize just how it's everyone around you that's kinda hung up on whatever it is, and you've moved way past it, actually. have you never told yourself that.

i have. i know many other people who have, too. so, who is oliver telling this story to, and why? there's no one but dead elspeth in front of him. there's no one but himself. fun fact: each time you recall an event, it distorts under the influence of the mix of past and present emotions. each time you recall, you mold memory (source, e.g., x). the way i personally see it, oliver, for whatever reason, retells the story in order to solidify his own memory of it in the way that he wants to remember it. whatever he says, this is his final word, and this is his final truth.

this is also why details slip through, like my beloved i believed him, like the emotional i hated him growing into self-convincing, misleadingly dismissive, definitely unsure i hated him by the end. those are the true emotions that he recalls, those are the times that are hard to rewrite, for whatever reason.

of course, he hated them all. but before that, he loved felix to the point of blindly following where felix's desire led oliver, at least the way oliver perceived felix's desire. it failed, crucially, when felix's desire brought them to the center of the labyrinth, where oliver could not be the desired anymore.

my third hot take in connection to this is that oliver did not know he would kill felix until the very night he did it. he didn't know it, i think, until the last hour, until felix refused to reconcile completely, until he made his blood run cold. i also briefly mention it here, specifically how farleigh is tragically connected to felix's death, in my opinion. this tracks with, again, my strong belief that oliver lies, lies and lies throughout this whole story about wanting to take everything from felix from the beginning; no, he fucking didn't. he wanted felix. he wanted felix to be his. that was number one priority. he wanted felix and whatever else came with it, undoubtedly, but not the other way around.

paradoxically, he also wanted to be felix; he wanted to be him and be with him just as us tumblr people can often relate and the tragedy is that you always have to choose. felix pushed him away, so there was no other choice but to take what was left of felix that oliver could take. hence the clothes wearing, the table scene talk, the refusal to leave.

felix chose not to choose oliver, so oliver became felix. it's his fault. felix promised oliver could leave. felix left instead. what was oliver to do.

but to your point about the books, i think it could be either way, actually. i think he could have lied about it because technically that's also in character for him, he was performing for an audience of his tutor. but i also think that he was, genuinely, a nerd before he came to oxford, and he didn't, and still doesn't, have any friends, and he hates his sisters and his mother and is miserable. he's the perfect profile of someone who'd read king james' bible over the summer, and then some, imma be honest.

so, yes. i think oliver lies about most things in saltburn and i think he's pathetic, lost, confused, grieving, angry, horny, down bad and in denial. and i fucking love him. i so fuckin do.

#saltburn #oliver quick #saltburn meta #thank u so much for ur ask. this was my excuse to finally vomit this up.#honestly i think asks are the only format in which i will actually write out all of my thoughts coherently esp the longer stuff #bc i feel obligated to answer #and when i dont i just abandon stuff. i know all my saltburn meta. vika does. finn knows ALL of it and more. i dont feel like sharing much #when unprompted. but if you ask me?? i'll never shut up. literally never #anyway. this is it. thank u again. fun.#ask #horrorsequel #saltburn journaling

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 6 months

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Okay, I caved and downloaded Romance Club😭😭 Does anyone have any good story recommendations? I'm still gonna be on Choices and post Choices content (and finish off the books on my reading list). I just feel like I need to stop relying on one storytelling app

Ugh, this is such a weird feeling! It reminds me of when I switched from Episode to Choices and I had to acclimate to the better quality of stories imao. I just wanna ✨expose myself✨ to more interactive apps and since Storyscape or wtvr doesn't exist anymore this is the closest I can get

Kali: Flame of Samsara (UP TO DATE)

Astrea's Broken Heart (UP TO DATE)

Heaven's Secret: Requiem (UP TO DATE)

Chasing You 2 (UP TO DATE)

W: Time Catcher (UP TO DATE)

Love, Sin, and Evil Vol. 1 (UP TO DATE)

The Desert Rose (UP TO DATE)

Garden of Eden (UP TO DATE)

Soulless (UP TO DATE)

Song of the Crimson Nile (CATCH UP NEXT DIAMOND RUSH)

Legend of the Willow (NEXT DIAMOND RUSH)

Heart of Trespia (NEXT DIAMOND RUSH)

Psi (NEXT DIAMOND RUSH)

Chasing You (STARTED...)

Sails in the Fog (STARTED...)

Dracula: A Love Story (STARTED...)

Rage of the Titans (STARTED...)

Hell and Highwater (STARTED...)

Shadows of Saintfour

COMPLETED

Kali: Call of Darkness: 9/10; love the MC, the characters, the story progression, the Dozen lore, replayability, etc. but gets a point off for its problematic depiction of Indian culture and Hinduism) tbh it deserves an extra point or two off because I despise the way Remy clearly wrote from a Eurocentric perspective, but this is also the first RC book I read after the slew of mid Choices books so I got attached unfortunately

Theodora: 9.6/10; I got the ending where I was only able to save my soul and it made me sad 😭 the story was well written but there were parts where I was just a lil bored. At least, that’s how I felt initially before I became obsessed with the book. It's objectively amazing etc. but I feel kinda robbed from screentime with the OG characters if that makes sense? Either way the writer did a great job writing them into the plot in later seasons and the MC is so amazing I love her <3 it’s not easy to write the progression of multiple relationships already but to have a different set of likable LIs every season is incredible!

Arcanum: 9.8/10; THIS BOOK WAS SO GOOD omg I love how the plot came full circle and the MC was interesting and well-written (her character design was also top tier). It's such a unique concept for a book I love it. I feel like S3 could have gone by a lil quicker (along with a couple of other nitpicky things) but that could just be because S2 was so full of action

Heaven's Secret: 9.9/10; I just started its sequel, but I was pleasantly surprised at how engaging this book was! I like the gradual progression from being a new student to slowly learning the truth behind your death and about the academy. The final battle scene was super cool, and I feel like everything had a logical explanation (ex. Shepha only having power over light). I also like the different pathways of being an Angel, Demon, or Harmony Bearer (which I was!) it was really fun and seems like a replayable book <3

Vying for Versailles: [review pending, check later]

Sins of London: [review pending, check later]

Heaven's Secret 2: [review pending, check later]

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ainulindaelynn · 15 days

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3, 18, 33? (also, hi!!!!!!!)

Hi hi!!! <3

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Oh gosh. The Lord of the Rings trilogy (which we're counting as one *ahem*) I've seen a thousand times and still find little details and still don't hate them a quarter century later, so I might as well keep 'em at this point. Pride & Prejudice, the five hour BBC version too, since that's been the sick day favorite forever.

The last one is much harder. Maybe Gladiator? Dirty Dancing I go back to sometimes. Lost Boys. Fury Road comes to mind. I don't know!! I rarely watch movies lately, so I'd have to really look for that last one xD

18. do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

Copying my answer from this post :)

Aliens, most likely. I haven't given it too much thought. It hasn't piqued my interest and I'm very 'worry about things that are helped by worrying and forget the rest' type, so it hasn't been too relevant.

As for ghosts, my logical brain doesn't believe at all. My late night nervous system though... different story. I do also say an occasional word to loved ones, regardless of whether I rationally think they're still around or not and I'm very weird about some physical spaces I know awful things have happened in, so who knows. Bit fluid on that one. Logically though, not so much.

33. any hobbies?

Not many active ones. I cook a ton and enjoy it but not quite at hobby level. I've gotten into propagating plants a little bit, but we live with very little direct sun, so after four years I've finally abandoned the effort temporarily. We're moving back to the city in the next year or two so I'll pick it back up after! Hopefully gardening too.

Tent camping is an actual hobby - obsessed with it. I'm at my happiest covered in dirt.

Aside from that it's gaming and writing!

I have a laundry list of things I'd love to get into someday, but time time, ya know. It's hard to come by, lol

Feel free to ask me a question :)

#ask games #ainulindaelynn #aeide

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purefandomonium · 8 months

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The Stubborn Player

Aaaaand I went and made another alternate version of Glitchy Red because why not? This isn't gonna end up like Connection, but I do have a few parts written so far. Ideally, I think it'll only be maybe 5-8 chapters long. This one will take more of a supernatural spin on it, and I wrote it using second-person POV, something I almost never do but have been meaning to work on. So yeah, this is just a little experiment. The file name is literally "stubborn player" because I haven't even come up with a title. It's also not meant to be taken too seriously. Honestly it's more of a gag because I got bored and needed to take a break from Connection, although I'm finally recovered from my injury enough that I can type again so I'll be posting more chapters at some point soon.

Red in this version is more sinister than usual (because that seems to be the easiest way for me to write him) and like some headcanons I posted a while ago, he thoroughly enjoys tormenting players. Keep an eye out for another headcanon list for this version because he is a bit different from the last alternate one I came up with. I'll probably post it this weekend, or the next if I don't get the time.

Can you tell I have a hyperfixation?

Writing below the cut.

What appear to be simple glitches in a barely-running game soon reveal themselves to be much more than that. The game, or rather, the main character of the game, is sentient. Sapient, even. Despite the murkiness surrounding his existence, one thing is very clear:

RED does not appreciate being treated like a puppet.

“This isn’t real,” you mumble in disbelief as the game refuses to turn off. You spend several seconds flipping the switch on and off to no avail. You’re rewarded with a firm ‘NO’ for your troubles.

Fine. Bastard can’t do anything if he’s not booted into a console, right?

Much to your dismay, the cart can’t—won’t—let you remove it. RED’s sprite remains in the overworld, smugness leaking through the pixels.

You’re not getting rid of me that easily, the text box reads.

You aren’t one to turn down a challenge. You go find the hammer.

------

Two hours. Two hours, multiple household tools, three knives, your car and a firearm later leave you with a totally undamaged—albeit irritated—Game Boy with Pokemon Red loaded into it.

The only thing that receives any damage is your neighborhood reputation when a few busybodies spot you in your yard, taking angry potshots at a children’s toy.

So you sit on your bed having a one-sided stare-down with said toy as you debate what to do next.

What’s wrong? If you’re so desperate to be rid of me, why not give me away to some other asshole?

“Because that’d be such a waste of three weeks and twenty dollars,” you reply, arms crossed. “And that’s not even taking into account the surprise shipping fee.”

You have sharp eyes, RED states suddenly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re not like the others.

You aren’t afraid of me. You’re stubborn.

You look like you’ll be fun to break.

Only then do you fully register the comment about your eyes and wonder how the hell he can see you.

The only logical thing to do is flip him off.

Weeks went by with you trying—and failing—to destroy the game. It’s become a strange obsession, you being so determined to wipe the smug bastard’s hard drive. When you run out of ideas you decided to chuck him into the basement closet. He can sit there and rot in all his stubborn glory. You could pawn him off to some more sensible sucker, but really, it’s all about getting the last laugh.

You don’t find it so funny when you awaken the next morning to find him leaning over you, face right in yours.

Out of reflex you swing. It phases right through him and his evil smirk. Wasting no time in scrambling out of bed and backing into the opposite wall, you glare at him.

“The hell?”

“Did you really think I’d let you forget about me? I’ve had enough of that to last several lifetimes…”

His voice is tinny and unnatural, clipping in and out and pushed beneath a layer of static. It’s fitting for something as broken as he is.

A stray book is the first thing your hand finds and you throw it at RED in a futile effort to make him leave. As expected, it passes right through him, the intricacies of his face briefly fizzling into static before reverting back to his bemused expression.

He begins taking deliberate steps towards you, reveling in how you have nowhere to run. You meet his ruby eyes head on, sending a cold glare in response. As fucked up as this all is, you aren’t about to let some bit-crushed fuck get the better of you. Not without a fight, at least.

There is no more space between you. You watch RED closely, waiting for him to make a move so you can counter.

His left arm twitches.

RED grips your wrist so tightly you yelp. So much for trying to slip by. He keeps you in place as his left arm reaches into his jacket.

Despite the situation, your only thought is how unfair it is that he can touch you but not the other way around. You’d give a kidney to be able to deck him right now.

RED pulls out an item—the Game Boy you’d attempted to hide in the depths of the basement—and forces it into the hand he’s got a firm hold on.

“You forgot something,” he says, eyes alight with some strange emotion.

“You keep it,” you say as you try to free yourself. His touch is sending uncomfortable sensations along your wrist and arm, like his hand is comprised of small, electrified feathers. You hiss as he moves to grip your hand over the Game Boy, feeling leaving your fingers.

“I want you to keep it. It’s yours, after all.”

He backs away finally and you let out a curse as you cradle your sure-to-be-bruised arm.

“How about a game?” He watches your ever-sharp gaze attempt to pierce him again and laughs. You’re a fun one indeed.

“What the hell do you know about games, asshole? You can’t even play yours.” Damn your arm hurts. What did he do?

RED’s blithe façade falters for half a second, visage twisting into raw anger before he reigns it in. You are the most interesting player he’s ever had. He wants to have some fun with you, and he can’t do that if he slaughters you or drives you mad like the rest. He wants something different this time around.

How long can you possibly last against his unnatural torment before you either fall like the others or pass him along to his next victim?

RED laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls in weird ways as his form flickers and shifts.

You watch him all the while, trying to gauge what he’s thinking.

“Let’s see how long you hold up. You aren’t the first person I’ve tormented, but you’re the most fearless I’ve ever seen. Most people run screaming from me. But you…”

You suppress a shudder as his eyes flash brighter for a second. You’re finally realizing you’re dealing with something far more dangerous than a cursed video game. He’s watching you like you’re his prey. Despite this, you hold back a smirk.

You have the advantage of RED not realizing you’re more than the average ‘player.’

“You seem to think you stand a chance against me. So I’ll give you one. Either you succumb to madness or I somehow get fed up with you enough to leave myself. What do you think? Sound fun?”

You finally allow the smirk to show. “You’re on, Glitchy.”

#glitchy red #my writing #writers on tumblr #fic

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lovebirdgames · 1 year

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To the ready...

This is my last devlog and final reflection before Band Camp Boyfriend releases. We started working on the game in 2015. We released the demo on Itch.io in 2018. We got our Steam page up in 2022. Now here we are in 2023, almost eight years later. We’ve been working towards this moment for eight years.

To be honest, it’s a little bit scary. My anxiety can’t help but whisper, “What if they hate it?” but thankfully logic growls back, “They won’t.” The most important thing is…I love it. I love it and I’m proud of it, and I’m here to reflect on everything and thank everyone for their hard work. Band Camp Boyfriend was once an idea in an instrument truck and today it is a reality thanks to you.

I may use “I” and speak from my perspective here, but I am only one half of the soul of this game. My sister’s heart, creativity, memories, and talents also make up Band Camp Boyfriend. She is just the shyer of the two of us and not as present on social media. So while I speak from my heart, know that it also comes from Alex’s.

Alex and I came up with the characters and stories together. We bounced ideas on band fields, long walks, and over coffee. There are so many warm moments of us barely able to detail our scene ideas in between peals of laughter. Together, we crafted it into better versions, constantly improving on it. As we worked, we covered for each other’s flaws. Alex is the perfectionist between the two of us and she is the more knowledgeable one when it comes to music, as she majored in it. She also was able to do the math and figure out the tough programming. Then she taught me—I am not the perfectionist, but I am the workhorse, the motivator. I am obsessed with checking things off my list and constantly working to whittle it down. And while her writing style is to carefully hone each paragraph, mine is to just devour. I sit down and I just write—though I like to say the characters write themselves. I’m just an invisible presence within the story, writing the scene as it plays out. If you know the characters deeply enough, you always know what they’re going to say next and your fingers fly across the keyboard just to keep up. But enough about me.

Band Camp Boyfriend is the kind of game that absolutely needs an original soundtrack and by God did Alex create an incredible one. The themes, the motifs, the fine details. She has put so much thought and hard work into the music of this game. I have no idea how she does it. It’s magical to me. It adds so much to the game and heightens the emotion by tenfold, and I can’t wait for you to hear each song—from “Let It Slide” to “Swan Song” to the full band performance of the alma mater and that final song in the credits. Every single song brims with Alex’s talent, passion, and hard work.

And honestly, I am blessed to have her as my sister and my best friend. Thank you, Alex, for sharing this journey with me.

One talent my sister and I do not share between us is digital art. We write, we program, she composes…but sprites, CGs, backgrounds, GUI? That’s not something we can do. So we commissioned artists we found on Lemmasoft Forum and I’m so grateful to have found them when we did.

Bunny, our background artist, created the entire world of Band Camp Boyfriend! She worked with us closely to make sure the details were right and was so sweet. It was so cool to be able to move around the world she created and help capture the shots that we wanted. Potouto (now Khoaisama) was also wonderful to work with. She is so full of talent and creates amazing, unique GUI for many different visual novels! Also, I love her enthusiasm. And our chibi artist, Mayunnaise, has created some of the most adorable chibis I’ve ever seen! Thank you all!

I want to say a special thanks to Flora, our sprite/CG artist who was so incredible to work with. She was patient, devoted, talented, and granted us art even better than we imagined…seriously, I would lose my mind over everything she sent us…but one of the best things we attained on this journey was certainly her friendship. Flora, you are a fantastic human being with a wonderful sense of humor! I’m glad you will finally, finally get to see your stunning art in action. Thank you for sticking with us as we kept spinning in circles. “Okay last round of CGs…actually, can you do one more round? Actually, just one more CG. I swear this time it’s the last one, I swear!” She also needs to be commended for her dedication to nailing all the detail on the instruments. That’s not easy to do. Flora, you rock. I hope you love the game.

Next, our stunning voice cast. They brought these characters to life in a way no one else could, better than we ever could have envisioned. Seriously. Their talent made me love these characters even more, which I didn’t realize was possible. I’m sorry for making you all wait for the game so long and I’m thankful you continued to reprise your roles throughout the years when we asked for more lines. Joe, Jonathan, Wish, Jared, Richard, Joseph, Mark, Emily, Melody, Daisy, Daniel, Lasli, Angelo, Riley, Sara, and Steve…thank you from the bottom of my heart for lending us your incredible talents. You are all spectacular voice actors and lovely people.

And I could never forget my fantastic friends who helped beta test the game! Becca, Karen, Kristin, Ross, Chris! Thank you all for lending your time and for being my friends through thick and thin. You each brought your own talents to testing and really helped me to clean up the game. Ross the genius also helped with programming and I am extremely grateful to him and his brilliant mind! Programming the Extras menu was no small feat and I don’t think we could have done it on our own and still met our deadline. Thank you so much for offering your time and working so hard.

We are sorry to cast, crew, and fans that creating the game took so long. This is a hobby and a passion rather than our full-time jobs, and you only have so much time for hobbies as an adult. Life can easily get in the way and we certainly faced our fair share of life changes and hurdles these past 8 years. We often beat ourselves up for not finishing the game in 2020 as we had initially hoped, but I believe this is what was meant to be. The game only got better. Some of the early story decisions make me cringe. Some of the writing I revisited was written by someone with less life experience and a bit tone-deaf on real issues so I was able to fix it. Most importantly, a final route (which was previously going to be DLC for later on) was added and wraps up the game wonderfully. Band Camp Boyfriend was meant to be released in 2023.

I want to thank both of my parents for their unending support through it all. Our dad helped us with the business side of things, getting the game copyrighted, and the joy of taxes. He wholeheartedly supports us in whatever we do, though he is a tad skeptical that a game called Band Camp Boyfriend will sell many copies…so we’re gonna surprise him, right guys? :)

As for my mom…I owe the fact that the game is finally on the cusp of being released to her. She has been our biggest supporter and fan. She has spent hours helping us program and running tests on the game. Until the very last minute, she scraped through the game to make sure there was no crashing. Before that, around two years ago, she sat me down and asked what she could do to help see this special game finally become a reality. It was a major turning point and we owe her so much. Her love of the game kept us going.

Love you both more than words can say. <3

Finally, I want to thank all of the people who have contributed to the wonderful memories and hilarious quotes that have found their way into Band Camp Boyfriend. The three different marching bands I was lucky to be apart of. And to my favorite, hilarious band director and my wise, gentle French horn teacher, who are no longer of this world…thank you for fostering in me a strong love for music, for seeing a talent in me that I couldn’t always see, and for building me into a stronger person. You both left this life too soon, but your impact in so many lives remains. I wish I could show you the game Alex and I created, the game that you helped inspire, and make you smile one more time.

I know some people will look at the hokey title and think it’s just another dating sim, just another gimmicky game, but to some of you, I hope it will be much more than that. As it is to me. It brims with a life of experiences. But not just mine—I’m sure so many of us who have worn a marching band uniform have had the same experiences. And through these experiences, we are connected.

I’ll say it once again, even though it won’t be the last time you hear this: Thank you for playing Band Camp Boyfriend. I dearly, truly hope you love it. I hope the game makes you smile, makes you laugh, makes you cry, and I hope you carry the characters, their lessons, and their story in your heart long after you get that final CG. I’ve carried Band Camp Boyfriend with me for almost eight years; I am so ready to share it with you.

See you at band camp.

-Taylor

#final reflection #game development #devlog #band camp boyfriend

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agirlcandream84 · 7 months

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I may regret posting anything but I keep seeing unhinged theories on the Chris Evans / Alba marriage. I write fanfic about the man but his marital status is largely unimportant to me because he is, after all, a stranger. But on logic alone I cannot understand the claim that this is all PR. If this were all a PR campaign it would go down as one of the worst in history. It's more or less destroyed his core fandom, it's shrouded in secrecy, it's done nothing to boost either of their careers, he's closed down his social media, there are next to no pictures of them and it's gone on for two years.

By what metric would this campaign be measured?

What was the campaign's objective?

If PR's purpose is to favorably boost public opinion or awareness, how has this campaign achieved that?

This is, by every measure, a horrible PR campaign. One that no publicist would ever run, let alone for 2 long years. And that's because it's not PR. He is not some D-list reality star desperate to stay in the public consciousness and nor would his PR team develop a campaign that treats him as such. To assume as much is, frankly, silly and out of touch.

There's a principle called Occam's Razor that says if you have two competing ideas to explain the same phenomenon, you should prefer the simpler one. The simpler idea here is that he's spent a majority of his adulthood in the public eye, with a fandom that is obsessive and often quite cruel to the women he dates*, and has decided he wants far less exposure of his personal life and you're seeing the product of that decision.

We don't have to like his choice or what it says about him (I'm personally very put off at how pre-pubescent she looks and what that means for his tastes) but we don't know him-- no matter how much online lurking we've done. Our familiarity with him is an illusion.

Acceptance is peaceful. I encourage you to explore it.

(*this is not to suggest the women he's dated are without flaws or issues but the misogyny has practically leapt out of some folks when Alba shares a shower pic.)

#chris evans #chris evans alba baptista

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tavtiers · 3 months

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I'm just gonna put a first in here, and if you replied I might put more asks if that's ok.

The leader of 10 players playing a modded SBURB (it still functions the same, only with more OP and separated stuff) is a Rogue of Heart, and a Prospitan. He is someone cheerful and inventive, although he wants safety for everyone and making sure they don't die. He likes inventing, wishing to fly as an aspiring pilot, and Bill Nye, but he is clumsy and prone to too much emotion.

I want to figure out what planet will he get, its quest and denizen, and how will he die in his quest bed (me thinks he's one of the last to die there)

The Rogue of Heart would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Cubes [Rogue] and Heart [Aspect]. An example would be the Land of Black Boxes and Elixirs. An explanation of planet naming conventions can be found here.

For this character, Black Boxes could be the black box flight recorders found in airplanes. Perhaps there are the wreckages of downed planes littering his planet, and the black boxes they contain must be deciphered. Elixirs could pertain to buildings shaped like beakers. The buildings are filled with various chemicals that must be combined to create potions that can influence emotion.

For a quest, the consorts of his planet should be negatively affected by his inverse classpect, the Knight of Mind. Perhaps the consorts were once embroiled in aerial warfare. Now that the battle is over, their civilization remains that of hardened warriors. They are beings of pure logic who obsess over perfecting battle tactics in preparation for the next conflict, with no time for love or play. As the Rogue of Heart, your character must decipher the black boxes to find where the chemical buildings are located. Then, he must sneak into the buildings to steal vials of the chemicals that can be used to mix emotion potions. Once he has created potions of happiness and love, he will need to distribute them amongst the consorts in order to bring passion back to their civilization and keep them from starting another war.

Two possible gods, or denizens, to reign over his planet would be Aphrodite (Goddess of Love) or Yaldabaoth (Trapper of Souls). Other Heart aspect denizens can be found here.

For your character, Euphrosyne (Goddess of Good Cheer) might be a good option.

When the Rogue of Heart completes his planet quests and dies on his quest bed, he would rise to ascension on the wings of ladybugs (symbols of love). A list of soul animals can be found here.

As for how he would die on his quest bed, that is dependent on the plot you develop. That being said, I don't have much I can suggest for you. Keep in mind who he is influenced by. Has a troll pushed him into dying on his quest bed? Has he followed all his quests to the letter and been guided there naturally? Or has he explored his planet aimlessly and stumbled across it? Think about if he is the type of character who would be comfortable taking his own life, without knowing the full consequences. Or does he have an enemy who will take it for him?

Hope this helps!

#rogue of heart #classpecting #homestuck #my post #ask #homestuck planet analysis #homestuck fankid #god tier analysis #sburb session

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firepony67 · 1 year

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Part 3 of scenes from utsukare eternal!! This is less favorite scenes now and just bits that I remember enjoying, so that I can come back and reminisce about the movie in the however-many-months before it comes out on DVD.

I’m very sorry to anyone who wants a more cohesive view of the movie, my brain is too chaotic to do a step by step summary, but @anotherblblog did an actual recap/summary. My posts are more like a diary of my own scattered thoughts, because I’m used to my tumblr posts being basically just me talking to myself.

Once again, SPOILER WARNING

First of all, and I’m not putting this on the list officially, but just Kiyoi’s outfits in general!! Stunning, amazing fashion as usual, he’s just gorgeous and his clothes are amazing. Also Anna’s costumes were also fantastic- the monochrome black, widow-ish looks really suited her!

1. Kiyoi and Anna’s manager being incredibly overworked all the time. That man never stops scrambling around frantically, it’s honestly kinda hilarious but also I feel bad for him. I mean he did have to deal with 2 serious “scandals” in a very short amount of time, including Anna with her boyfriend and then a fake scandal of Anna and Kiyoi dating, plus they don’t seem to have any other staff other than the boss dealing with the two actors (kind of bad planning if you ask me, especially given how famous Anna supposedly is).

2. Kind of part of one of my previous favorite scenes- when Anna and her boyfriend are reuniting, Anna is hiding at first and then Hira or Noguchi (Hira’s cameraman boss) tells the boyfriend something like “there’s someone here who wants to see you/talk with you” and the camera pans dramatically to some tulle curtains beautifully draped over an entranceway. And you think it’s gonna be Anna appearing out of the fabric but then Kiyoi just pokes his head out with the cutest expression. And when I tell you the disappointment and wtf energy on the boyfriend’s face was so strong 😂. But then Kiyoi is just like- oh sorry- and shuffles over awkwardly to stand next to Hira so that Anna could get her proper dramatic entrance. It was so cute.

3. The opening scene. Beautifully pastel scene of Hira and Kiyoi waking up (naked) in their bed, and Hira rolling over to cuddle Kiyoi, complete with kind of hazy/dreamy lighting, calming atmospheric music, and a tulle curtain/veil thing covering both of them to add to the dreamlike feel. Some people in the mydramalist comments didn’t like the veil thing, because it was kind of just functioning as a call back to a scene in the series and didn’t actually serve a purpose or make any sense in the movie 😅. And that’s a valid point, but honestly I’m perfectly fine with doing things purely for the aesthetics. Sometimes, artistic choices aren’t super logical lol. It was a beautiful scene, and frankly it’s not too far fetched to me that Hira and Kiyoi might cover themselves with a pretty curtain like that while sleeping together simply for the vibes 👍

4. Hira and Kiyoi apartment hunting together 😭😭 Although obviously Hira’s house is the best, it was so cute to see them going around together thinking about the things they needed in a home (Kiyoi’s list including a bathtub I think, referencing the earlier bathtub steamy scene 🫢). It was so cute how Hira zooms into the kitchen to test out how cooking for them would feel, acting out looking into the living room area to make sure he would be able to see Kiyoi while making food! The domestic fluff!! I’m so soft 🥺

5. Okay I know that Anna’s obsessive fan turned out to be awful later, but I honestly really liked his and Hira’s introduction. It was painfully awkward, but the way they bonded over their shared fan interests and devotion to their idols was honestly really sweet, and then how they cautiously shook hands afterwards- I was kind hoping Hira would gain a friend with a similar personality to him, but instead he gained an enemy that he would later try to murder for hurting Kiyoi and then subsequently almost be murdered by. So that’s fun 🙃

#utsukushii kare eternal #utsukushii kare #美しい彼 #my beautiful man #my beautiful man: eternal

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kaiowut99 · 1 year

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Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 89 and 90 Subbed (Finalized)

(Previously: Episodes 87 and 88 Subbed [Finalized])

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-89: The Hell Kaiser vs Darkness Fubuki

Ryou, now the Hell Kaiser, has returned to the Academia to take part in GeneX. His best friend Fubuki, scoping out the situation, decides to confront the Hell Kaiser, hoping to return the favor after he had helped save him from his fall to the dark side before. At last, Fubuki and Hell Kaiser begin their duel, and Fubuki intentionally uses the power of Darkness, summoning Red-Eyes Black Dragon. Meanwhile, the Hell Kaiser uses...

TURN-90: The Academia’s Pride

Chronos and Vice-Principal Napoleon, anxious about the Academia’s reputation worsening as their students lose to Pro Duelists, get certain characters to take part in GeneX--as their secret weapons. Meanwhile, Junko and Momoe were dueling the Pro Duelist Sommelier Parker, and just as they were about to surrender their tough bout, Asuka, thought to have entered the Society of Light, appears. Asuka then takes over Junko and Momoe’s duel and takes on the Sommelier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next duo of episodes is finalized~

Episodes 89 and 90 are a good time; 89 explores more of Ryou’s personality shift (and how sinking so low fighting with his ideals and then discarding them to actually think of winning now has him obsessed with the feeling that comes with it) and the new Cyberdark deck he took from Samejima, along with showing that Darkness is still very much around despite his defeat to Judai in S1 (mainly because for some reason Fubuki kept the card he was trapped in around, though I suppose logically to avoid Darkness potentially getting to someone else lol) which’ll come into play again in Season 4 (better than never, really). 90′s a fun time with more of the tournament currently going on playing out, we get to see Taizan and Motegi again which is nice, and Asuka shows some of her pre-SoL personality is still in there, like with Manjoume. Also nice to hear Camula’s Theme again as she takes out Sommelier Parker. The flashback scene with Ryou and Fubuki is also nice (”Just as this lighthouse guides ships at night, everyone’s feelings were the glow that brought me back”) and it would’ve been nice to get that properly after Fubuki recovered, but it works well here.

Editing-wise, there wasn’t too much to fix in 89, though there was a unique one that I wanted to do my best to fix; 90 saw a bunch of card fixes along with one or two quality-of-watching fixes, plus a big translation edit revamping one of the first on-screen ones I’d done when I first subbed episode 90 back around 2012 that looks pretty good now, if I may say so myself, lol. Details below the cut, as usual, for the interested!

(As a side-note, Sangre Guerrero in 90 is... interesting; the credits list his name as “サンブレ・ゲレロ”/“sanbure guerrero”/”Sombre Guerrero,” which is what I’d originally used, but then I saw Crunchyroll go with “Sangre,” which isn’t what the katakana would back up [”sangure”]--but the more I listened to Manjoume saying his name, the more it did in fact sound like “Sangre.” It wouldn’t be the first time I’d run into a typo in the ending credits--a lot of the animation staff tend to have typos on their names every so often, so it takes me a fair bit of looking into which spellings end up sticking later in the series to decide on consistency--but it was a potential first for a character name, and Japanese Wikipedia and most sites, along with Yugipedia, had spelled it as “sanbure” pulling from the credits. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a profile on the official YGO site, and I don’t think he’d had one on any official Japanese one to verify, being such a minor character. But “sangre” would make sense given his “hot Latino blood” line [”sangre” being Spanish for “blood”], so, given all that, I went with “Sangre” as well.

Also, I did end up finally catching that the name for Junko’s VA is Tomomi Yachi and not Tomomi Taniuchi as I’d been using per AnimeNewsNetwork; I was hoping that “Yachi” could’ve been a more recent change, but I clicked into her JP Wikipedia page and saw her blogs going back to the time GX was airing in the mid-00s referencing “Yachi,” and Yugipedia does have “Yachi” too, so... going with that now. I might decide to revise her other episodes, but having lost my OP/EN credit sub files for S1 and early S2, and given she only finally spoke again in 90 after not doing so for... over 30 episodes, I might just end up leaving it.)

Anywho, enjoy, folks--91 and 92 are on tap for next time, ft. our Grim Reaper one-hit card-slinging-slasher one-off, and Pegasus actually dueling as Chronos and Napoleon duel him for a job worrying they might be fired; should be fun to revisit!

Fixes/Edits! (89)

As Fubuki and Ryou are about to begin dueling, they jump together on a split-screen to turn on their Disks and shout, “Duel!”--but just before Fubuki’s starts to turn on, there’s one frame (held still for a few frames) where it’s not fully drawn in its off state; fixed by painting in the rest in Photoshop, then throwing the fixed frame into the footage in Sony Vegas.

Later, once Fubuki lets Darkness consume him thinking it’s the only way to help Ryou now, Ryou brings back Cyberdark Edge using Call of the Living Dead; Darkness!Fubuki notes the futility of it when facing his Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon, and Ryou clicks into a split-screen to surprise him by summoning another new Monster in Cyberdark Keel, but a few things happen here--mainly, once Ryou clicks into his split-screen with Fubuki, the entire shot keeps panning to the right towards Fubuki. Then, a few frames before Fubuki reacts to Keel, it shifts downward and to the right, and as Fubuki’s saying, “Another new Monster?”, the shot keeps panning towards him, before the split-screen then splits apart, but not before we get a quick frame of them splitting into green before the right whooshing background’s in there in the next frame to lead into Keel being summoned. As I hadn’t worked on a fix to a split-screen error like this yet and thinking I might not be able to do too much, I initially mitigated it by using Vegas to fix it such that the shot stopped moving once Fubuki started reacting, repositioning three frames of his face and lip-flaps (closed, semi-open, and open) and masking them onto a still, recycling as needed to match his original flaps before letting the split-screen split out--but I was inspired on Friday to give it more of a try, and I think it came out nicely after 3-4 total hours late Friday night and early yesterday, lol.

In addition to what I first did there, I went and first took the starting pan of Fubuki as he notes the futility of the move and moved it slightly so that Fubuki’s final position in the pan, before Ryou clicks into the split-screen, matches the position I had him in just before he reacts which I’d kept him still at--but doing this left a bit of the shot, along the top and right, unaccounted for with missing pixels; to deal with that, I used the aforementioned frame of Fubuki’s final position and redid that initial panning with it by keyframing it for most of its 105 frames, then put that in a layer under the repositioned pan--this allowed it to fill in the rest of the shot seamlessly, so Fubuki and the background were fully moved. Then, after Ryou clicks in, I masked in a still of him prior to holding up Keel over Fubuki, then masked in and repositioned his rising hand with the card, along with his face and lip-flaps which I recycled as needed; this made it so Ryou held up Keel and said his line while everything else in the shot stays still. I applied some additional masking over these layers during the split-screen to keep their hair and the backgrounds behind them consistent, too. There’s still a slight amount of movement for the 5-10 frames of Fubuki reacting that I couldn’t edit out, but all the previous editing combined with what I’d done before made this shot much more consistently still overall. (Hopefully that makes sense, lol.) Also fixed the quick green-bg frame error.

Fixes/Edits! (90)

For the hardsub, as I detailed here, I took the computer screen Samejima’s scrolling through as he laments how only some of the students are winning their GeneX duels, showing how Judai and the others are doing on that front, and freshly translated it; as mentioned up top, this is a revamp of one of my earliest on-screen translation edits, necessarily redone because, for some reason, I thought it smart to save the original edit with Samejima’s line hardsubbed onto it... but also given the difference in video quality with the DVDRip I used here, lol. Where initially I mainly used Sony Vegas to manipulate the existing footage to get things blanked, borrowing from how the dub wiped the text in spots, to then add the translated text in Aegisub, this time I used Photoshop exclusively to blank the Japanese text and then add the new English text, after first stitching together the entire screen with everyone’s profiles, using Sony Vegas to redo the scrolling or touch up for consistency a little as needed.

Also for the hardsub, for the scene just after the title card as Samejima scrolls from Misawa’s profile to Saiou’s, I was able to get that freshly translated as well, as detailed in the update to the post I linked in #1 above. (I also created this video to showcase both edits, as well as mockups I did of what the English dub could’ve done if they wanted to translate it vs what they actually did [blank all the text but mysteriously leave empty name boxes intact] and comparing them to my initial edits from 2012.)

As Chronos and Napoleon run to see Taizan duel with Mathematica, we see the current status of their duel with their LP counts, but while Taizan has Big Shield Guardna out in Defense Mode on his field, his card under it is facing Mathematica as if in Attack Mode; fixed by first making a proxy, then using AfterEffects to put it in place in Defense Mode on one frame during the panning shot, with the effect box facing us the viewer, and then masking Big Shield Guardna on top of it--once done, I took that frame into Sony Vegas and redid the panning shot with it, masking in the LP counter on top as needed.

After activating Illegal Summon and summoning Middle Shield Guardna to Taizan’s field, Mathematica has Taizan summon a Monster to his field for its second effect, and he goes for Drone; as it gets summoned, its card is missing on Mathematica’s Disk. Fixed by using AfterEffects to first put a proxy I made for it in place on his second Monster Zone before the DEF counter covers it, brightening it as the light from Drone’s summoning reaches it, and exporting that; I then exported a single frame of it in that position, which I threw into Vegas, where I redid the slow zoom that happens here as he activates Death Calculator with it, and combined it all.

Some seconds later, as Mathematica activates Transistor the Survey Warrior’s effect (tributing Drone to attack Taizan directly), a few things happen: 1) a repeat of #3 happens with Defense-Mode Drone, whose card under it is facing Taizan as if in Attack Mode, and 2) Taizan has the just-summoned-to-his-field Middle Shield Guardna where Big Shield Guardna should be on his Disk, in Monster Zone 4. Fixed in two parts: 1) I used AfterEffects to apply a proxy for Drone under it in Defense Mode (name box facing our left) for a frame and masked Drone on top of it, then taking that frame into Vegas to redo the panning shot here with it, masking Big Shield Guardna and his shield over it and fading it out as Drone gets tributed and disappears; 2) luckily, as this shot gets recycled a bit later, and it correctly has Middle Shield Guardna and Big Shield Guardna in Zones 2 and 4, respectively, on his Disk there, I was able to use that and use Vegas to reposition it and then redo the panning here with it before just masking them out--though the repositioning meant that Big Shield Guardna wasn’t fully on Taizan’s Disk (as I had to move it a bit upward, leaving empty pixels under), but I used AE to slap a proxy on in one frame, then redoing the pan again using that frame to handle that. Combined both parts in Vegas, and voila. (Quite a bit of fun keyframing involved here as a result, but the result looks good)

After summoning Drawler, Taizan uses its effect to add his hand back to his deck, but two quick things happen: 1) there’s a few frames of his Disk showing where Big Shield Guardna is missing from his Disk (Fixed in AfterEffects by just slapping a Defense-Mode proxy in Monster Zone 4), and 2) for a quick frame as he lifts his head, the pupils of Taizan’s eyes are black and not white (fixed by just recoloring them in Photoshop, then mixing the fixed frame into the footage in Vegas)

Later, during Motegi’s duel with Sangre Guerrero, the Latino Pro Duelist [what Elvis impersonation] tries to get Motegi to feel worried, but notes how he’s taking the fun out of it for him by being so chill; as the split-screen between them while this happens starts to split, there’s a quick frame where the border is missing from Guerrero’s side. Fixed in Vegas by masking in his side of the split in the next frame with the border and repositioning it into place. I also re-slid his side to fix some coloring issues I noticed with him.

Later, once Asuka and Sommelier Parker are dueling, after Asuka summons Benten, Parker notes that she would be “medium-bodied” as a wine compared to his “full-bodied” Bacchus, before the Parker/Bacchus split-screen splits to show Judai, Shou, and Manjoume, as Shou turns to Manjoume wondering what the “bodied” talk is about--but two little things happen here: 1) a frame before the split starts to split, there’s a little flicker along the border (fixed just by holding the previous frame over this one), and 2) after Shou turns to Manjoume, after he says his line, he jitters and turns slightly from Manjoume, where he stays until after Manjoume’s line, when he and Judai turn back to the duel, but this jitter desyncs Shou’s movement from Judai’s there (fixed by first masking Shou so that he stays in his pre-jitter position, then using that jitter position to make it so he and Judai start turning back to the duel at the same time).

9-11 here happen in the same scene, but I can’t do sub-bullets on Tumblr here, so I’ll split it into a few points for readability. As Asuka tells Parker that Cyber Tutu’s about to end the duel, he slides in on a split-screen to question that, causing Asuka to react in surprise before the split splits out to show a drunk dizzy Cyber Tutu--except Asuka’s side of the split takes a frame longer to leave the screen, as they started splitting a bit unevenly. Fixed by using Vegas to mask and redo the split-out slightly so that the two start splitting more evenly, letting Asuka’s split leave the screen with Parker’s.

After we see drunk Cyber Tutu, the two’s split-screens start sliding back in, but Parker’s is uneven with Asuka’s; fixed in Vegas by masking his full split and repositioning it to redo it slightly.

Once back on their split-screen, after Parker comments that Cyber Tutu has had a bit too much of his Bacchus Banquet’s sake, they start to split out to show the Bacchus Banquet card behind them on Parker’s field, but the border that should be on Asuka’s side is disconnected from her. Fixed in Vegas by masking out the border and attaching it to Asuka, masking in the new scene behind them to wipe it away from the middle.

A bit later, Parker has Magna Mutton attack Cyber Tutu, but Asuka has her Holy Life Barrier Trap to avoid damage; as she gets ready to activate it amidst Magna Mutton’s attack, she’s missing Cyber Tutu in Monster Zone 4 on her Disk. Fixed in AfterEffects by just slapping a proxy on.

During her last turn, after Asuka uses Fulfillment of the Contract to bring back Idaten, as she explains that her effect lets her re-use a Magic Card in her Cemetery (going for Pot of Greed), along with missing Cyber Tutu in Zone 4 of her Disk again, a bit of an oddity happens here in how her Idaten card starts to... slide off her Disk, lol. There’s also a quick frame where the Pot of Greed she’s grabbing from her Cemetery disappears in the slot before it reappears there as she moves her Disk. Fixed by first using AfterEffects to put Cyber Tutu in place, which I then repositioned during the light zoom-out in AE, then in Vegas holding Idaten in place by masking its Monster Zone into another layer on top for the rest of the shot, and then holding Pot of Greed in place for that one frame.

During the preview for episode 91, an error happens as the Blue student Tachibana is dueling gets impacted by an attack he made in which he has a Magic Card in his Disk’s Monster Zone 4. This was fixed in 91 proper, as it’s Armed Samurai -- Ben Kei there, so I fixed this by using that footage in Vegas and masking in the Japanese “Preview” text over it, using a fair amount of feathering so it blended in.

#GX #yugioh #ygo gx #yugioh gx #ygo #yu-gi-oh gx #my subs #Ryou Marufuji #Fubuki Tenjoin #Asuka Tenjoin #[if you enjoy the fix-edit breakdowns you'll probably enjoy some of the ones here lol]#that 4Kids Elvis impersonation tho #0/10 wiping Latino representation smh #still such a shame how Camula's Theme has gone unreleased all this time #be nice if we got some OST releases for GX's 20th anniversary next year but somehow i doubt it #also don't get why CR does 'my boy Judai' or 'my boy Johan' for Pegasus's -boy shtick #when they kept it in their DM subs lol #anywho lemme see how the new Ghost Game is

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