#rainbow keyboard/headset
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I feel like I've complained about Tim's email situation in Gotham Knights before (edit: I have), but the truth of it is just so funny.
He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.
Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.
In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.
Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.
Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?
That kid?
You think that kid is Red Robin?
Ch'yah, okay, sure. And the Joker is funny 🤡.
#gotham knights game#I'm now incorporating this into all my Tim headcanons across the multiverse#twice a week as part of maintaining his Normal Teenager Identity#he streams random shit on YouTube/Twitch#he's got the full gamer set up in the background#LED lights around the ceiling and walls#rainbow keyboard/headset#mini fridge filled with Monster Energy Drinks#(other streamers have 'take a shot' prompts in chat. his audience has 'drink water before you die')#whenever he hosts a charity stream Bruce makes an appearance in chat via the official Wayne Enterprises account#and promises to match whatever they raise#and then hangs about for a bit to cheer Tim on#he's the epitome of 'are ya winning son?' meme#meanwhile off screen#Tim's keeping an eye on a seperate monitor#and helping Babs run remote ops#if his stream suddenly dies (which is does fairly often) he blames it on the Manor having shitty wifi#and that tracks#it's an old house#it's probably FILLED with lead and dead signal spots#in reality Tim killed the stream because Red Robin is needed#and no one will ever know
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*novel spoilers* *but not really***
You know, for all the wonderful changes they've made in the show from the novel, there is one I am sorely missing that I wish they'd keep.
Kinn being a gamer nerd with Time and Teh.
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche the series#kinnporsche novel#kinn gamerboy WHEN#i know we wont get it in the show#but its canon#and will forever exist in anything i write where applicable#can you just imagine#kinn in a neon blinking headset#rainbow keyboard cause hes gay and extra#the aesthetic alone
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literally everything i own is the light-up LED color changing option, if that option exists. my keyboard. my mouse. my entire gaming desk. my display stands for my consoles/vr headset. my chargers. my headphones. also i have no end of LED strips and various lights/decorations. everything i own is bright and rainbow. if it doesnt light up whats the point. oh also my gaming chair has LED lights.
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why does all computer gear keyboards mice headsets etc have to look like a gamers wet dream. does it really need to have an led rainbow light on it
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Celestial Navigation
Part 3 - First Quarter
(gif by the magnificent @pedropascalsx)
Summary; ....well, at least your boss knows your name
Warnings; drug use (marijuana), casual touching - F!Masturbation, the raunchiest nastiest, dirty talk, Dieter being a chaos gremlin, some descriptions of a really terrible workplace environment.
A/N; Once again, the love, support and kindness you all have shown this fic has truly blown me away and I cannot express how much I appreciate all of it. This has been a rough week for me, so thank you for being my safe space <3
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Well… at least she knows your name now.
Leaving the office at 5pm on a Friday is a cardinal sin. The other interns watch you with a curious expression as you gather your wallet and phone, shoving them hastily into your handbag. You hope they aren’t looking close enough at your face to see the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. If you get out of here in under a minute, you can cry safely on the street.
There’s no crying in this office. You made it through the first round of layoffs, the relief an itch in your chest as you watched co-workers pack their desks, move their little succulent plants into cardboard boxes and vanish. All their work was farmed out to all of you, 100 people whittled down to seventy with the same amount of papers. It was inevitable that something would get missed.
And you missed it. A line in one of the thousand spreadsheets, not updated, the formula not copied over. Ones and zeroes that caused the math to implode, for everything to grind to a halt until they found your error, fixed it and resumed the churning pace, each of you glued to screens with headphones and mouths set into a grim line.
She didn’t yell at you. It was in the raise of her eyebrow, the twitch of her finger over her keyboard, the way you watched her manicured nails hover over the “delete” key, as if it would have real world consequences. It was an hour of dressing down, of explaining the mistake in its simplest terms, as though you were an infant, your first class of your first year. No sympathy for the late nights or caffeine fuelled mornings, where you dragged yourself into the office mere hours after leaving it.
“I want you to take the weekend and consider your future with this company.” She sniffed, her eyes narrowing as she looked over your attire. “We certainly will”
There’s nothing waiting for you at your apartment except a Lean Cuisine and a dead plant. The streets are full of people in the same business attire as you, listening to podcasts and talking on headsets, they part around you like a rock in a river, barely noticing the tears that are now flowing freely down your cheeks. Nobody would stop if you were screaming, it doesn’t matter that it’s silent.
You start to walk.
*
Fall meant blankets for Dieter. He pulled them from the linen cupboard in his kitchen with something akin to glee, emptying the shelves of the rainbow of fleece and thick comforters, spreading them around his apartment as he walked in and out of the balcony, breathing in the air that chilled his lungs.
Summer had left without a goodbye, no final send-off of scorching heat or sticky sidewalks. Instead, the sun rose one morning on air that felt crisp, that chilled lungs and demanded steam in a hot shower, for the tea to be steeped a moment longer, the mug to warm your hands. Taking on an orange hue as the stores changed from bright colours to warm earth tones, the occasional pop of Halloween peeking through as hemlines got longer. Dieter reached for sweatpants most mornings.
He called you once a week. He saw you once a week. That was the baseline established. You would come in on a weekend in the mid-morning rush, and he would get a call, Owen, or sometimes Molly letting him know of your arrival. It was his wakeup call some days, just a few steps away from opening his eyes to see you first thing. He fell down the last stair most mornings. You would sit and talk with him, people watch in his carved out corner as you drank your coffee, ate a muffin. You asked him about himself, and he answered you honestly.
You seemed wholly unsurprised about the drugs, the women, the men. He had only made oblique references, a highlight reel of parties and tabs of LSD, you even laughed when he told you about Bertha, the strawberry-banana weed plant growing in the abandoned bathtub on his balcony. You guessed correctly that he preferred to grow his own, no pesticides or interference. He’d used the seeds from his last harvest, grown her again and marvelled at the cycle of life. Owen brought up the used coffee grounds once a week for fertilizer. He got the jars from goodwill.
You admitted your own indulgence was a glass of good Chardonnay. He’d stocked his fridge with Chablis right next to the blueberries, his whiskey remaining on top of the fridge, bottles emptied and repurposed, growing flowers out of makers mark on his nightstand.
The phone calls were his favourite. The shyness about you disappeared, you were more willing to admit things, less willing to suffer the silence as he waited for you to expand on an answer. If you didn’t want to answer something, you told him and he asked a different question. Your favourite colour was of ruby grapefruits.
He smoked and painted while you talked, bowls of fruit and tidily rolled joints accompanying your laughter. He loved to make you laugh. It tugged at his insides when you said you rarely did otherwise. On the weekends you chatted with Owen and Molly, lingering at the counter while Owen ground and pressed, and Molly doodled on your receipt. They knew better than to charge you, so you compromised by buying someone else’s.
You had no tattoos, the only piercings simple studs in your ear. You’d looked interested as he slowly filled in the triangles on his forearms, but didn’t ask him. He was still resisting the urge to push, to unfurl his fingers and reach to touch you in those quiet lulls of conversation. Feel your skin again under his thumbs, as if he could ever forget the sensation.
The scent of melted dark chocolate and cannabutter was thick in his kitchen. He could feel a mild contact high as a fuzz in his limbs as he watched them blend together. A floured pan was waiting for the brownies off to the side, and so far he’d only burned the tip of one finger on the cooktop. His lungs were too old for the crispness of the air, and after a few days of sobriety in the guise of a tolerance break, he found the scribbled brownie recipe in a Julia Child cookbook he had been given more than a decade ago.
He would call you tonight. Your last call had ended with his honesty. You still seemed to hedge whenever he opened, this delicate dance of advance and retreat. Every time you asked a question, you knew the answer, but seemed surprised when he gave it to you anyway. It was well past two am, the streets quiet as he watched the fan spin above him, listened to you talk again about ambitions and goals and plans that had more steps than the recipes he followed.
You hesitated, faltering at the finish. He wanted to ask you “What then?” what happens when you check every item off your list, when you’ve undoubtably achieved everything you want to and there’s no moon left to reach for – which lofty star would gain the focus of your new pursuits. But he let the silence linger, waiting for the question he could taste in the air, smoke curling from the ashtray at his bedside.
“Dieter… do you ever wonder what the rest of your life looks like?”
“No Loulou… this is the rest of my life. Talking on the phone with you.”
*
“Sorry we’re closed”
The bell creaks your arrival, groaning under the pressure of the day as you shove the door open. You don’t know why you’re here, why your feet brought you, protesting the impractical heels that carried you blocks and blocks in the dwindling sunlight. Everything hurts from crying, your face angry hot from the tears. The reasons left you in the smog from screaming cabs, catching in the choking pollution until you were blind with it, left with nothing but a hollow despair.
“Did you hear, I said… oh fuck!” Owen turned and blanched as he looked at you, dropping the rag he was using to polish the gleaming machine.
“I’m ok, everything’s ok, I’m sorry, I just…” you start, shame creeping up your spine as you watch the colour drain from his thin face. He scrambles, beads clinking merrily as he ducks behind the curtain.
“DIETER!” His voice booms, loud and echoing around the empty shop as you jump, holding your elbows as you glance at the door, wanting to run, to go home to your dead plant and sad dinner and pretend you didn’t have a breakdown. To glance nervously at your phone with a glass of chardonnay and hope he calls.
Instead he appears, dishevelled in sweats and a bathrobe that’s at least three sizes too big. He’s wearing sunglasses, there’s a stain that looks like chocolate on his cheek. He carries with him the same frantic energy, spiced this time with fear as he sees you, takes stock of your appearance and points at the chair, the faded mustard yellow that’s unofficially yours.
“Owen, grab one of those veggie pastries, make a hot chocolate and fuck off” he says, his voice stricter than you’ve heard it before, a glint of danger as he watches you, the painful shuffle as you make your way through the mismatched desks and tables.
He crouches rather than sits, close enough that you can smell the air on him, the crispness of fall and spices that cling to his clothing. Close enough you could count the greys in his beard. He watches as you fold in on yourself, shoes dropping to the floor with an echoing thunk as you curl into the familiar softness of his company. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes darting frantically around your features as you hear Owen in the background.
There’s a clink, a steaming cup and a plate placed beside you, as Owen offers you a smile, palms Dieter’s shoulder as he leaves in silence. The lock sounds heavy as it clicks behind him.
“Eat, Loulou” he says, his hands splayed wide on the armrests of the chair. You watch as his thumbs tick like metronomes as he strokes the fabric. This is the closest he’s been, since that first day. He doesn’t touch you, besides the accidental brushing of clothed knees as you sit in the mid mornings. He gestures when he talks, tugging at his clothes or his hair, watching your own limbs as you sit still, pen poised in your grip, hovering over the journal you always intend to write in.
The pastry is good, full of rich vegetables and buttery soft flakes, the hot chocolate steals the heat from your face, distributing it throughout your body as he waits patiently for you to finish. He brings you an extra napkin, you dry your eyes.
“Owen can’t deal with crying women. We had this woman once, who would come in and read these tragic romances, and sob over her latte. He went to this bookstore in Hell’s Kitchen and bought her all these bodice ripping pirate novels and told her she was banned from reading anything without at least two nipples on the front cover.”
You hiccup a laugh.
“Her names Mallory, they trade Kindle recommendations for books with aliens with blue dicks now”
“I’m sorry Dieter, I didn’t mean to… I should just go, this was stupid, I’m sorry, I’ve worried you for nothing and it’s stupid really. Honestly, I’m fine, it was just a bad day, I made this mistake, and it was completely my fault and I should have known better and I shouldn’t be crying, I should have just done it properly the first time”
“Can I give you a hug?” He asks. “Would that be okay?”
He waits. Perched on the balls of his feet as though his knees aren’t screaming in protest, as if his whole body hadn’t been jolted by electricity from the sight of you in pain. The roar of primal rage that flooded every sense the minute he saw the tears glistening on your cheeks brought him back to his youth, to the cocaine fuelled bar brawls and waking up with sticky fists. He gave it up in his twenties, but found he felt the need to scorch the earth to find those that caused you pain. You nod. Just a tiny jerk of your chin, your eyes filling again as he watches your fiddle with the hem of your shirt, looking down to try and blink them away.
He's stronger than he looks. The baggy clothes hiding a thick frame as he lifts you, depositing you back onto the armchair, curled exactly the same with him beneath you. He wraps the bathrobe around you both, bringing his arms around your middle as your head rests on his shoulder. He’s warm. Soft and broad beneath you as you feel his body still when your hair brushes his cheek.
Its easier, to bury the words in his skin. To talk into his shoulder, your eyes on the pulse of his throat as you explain your day. The dressing down from your boss, the judgemental eyes on you as you left the fluorescent lighting of the office, the pain in your feet from walking here. That you weren’t even sure why you were here, just that you didn’t want to go home. His thumb smooths a steady rhythm on your hip, rubbing tiny gentle circles over the robe and your clothing. You can feel him breathing beneath you, his warmth floods your senses.
“You don’t have to go home” he says quietly.
He still thinks you’re soulmates. He still thinks that this friendship you’ve fostered is the kindling to a blazing inferno. You don’t tell him about the coffee dates you sometimes go on throughout the week, about the men you swipe right on Tinder, the hopes you pin to white smiles and JDs.
“I can’t”
“I have a batch of weed brownies cooling on the counter. A stack of movies and very comfy couch. Nothing else.” He says, shrugging so you look at him. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes” its an answer without hesitation.
“I’m not going to use your shitty workday as an excuse to tempt you into bed. We can get high and watch movies and fall asleep. That’s it – we’re friends right now Loulou, this is what friends do. Promise”
He hooks his pinkie into yours, nudging his nose against your cheek as he nods, waiting for you to agree. When you do, he lifts you to your feet, grabbing your shoes as you wander slowly behind the beaded curtain.
*
Everything is green. There are plants in every corner of the apartment. Apartment is generous for the room you’re standing in. Shaped in an awkward rectangle with a sliding door, a small kitchen is crammed into a corner, shelves sit uneven, their contents sliding drunk with gravity. A huge deep green couch in front of a large television, looking every bit as soft and comfortable as promised. Hiding behind a wicker screen is his bed, which is when you start laughing.
“Like it?” he asks, grinning as he flicks off light switches, darkening the hallway leading to the stairs. Its round. Huge and sprawling, pillows piled against the wall with crisp sheets tucked awkwardly on the rounded edges. You can see where he sleeps with the comforter, puddled in the middle and your brain provides you with an absurd image of him, a frog on this lily pad, talking on the phone with you as the ceiling fan spins above.
“It’s very you” you shrug, gravitating towards the corner, paint and canvases stacked like pizza boxes, a tower almost as tall as you. The easel is propped on a brick, the work only half finished as you look at it. Its streaks of midnight, deep rich blues as you look closer, the tiny speckles of the universe behind a moon made of spun lace, glued to the canvas. In the foreground, two tiny figures sit hand in hand, as if observing the webbing above them.
“This is beautiful” you say, reaching your hand towards the texture, stopping yourself at the smell of fresh paint. He hasn’t finished it yet, some white canvas peeking through the edges.
“Thank you” he says, grabbing your hand and pressing forward. Your fingerprints are left on the sticky surface, they come away streaked purple. “I’m going to suggest something that’s going to freak you out a little bit. Take a shower. I’m going to give you some of my clothes to change into – you can’t be comfortable all buttoned up like this. Half a brownie and a shower, and then we’ll watch some movies”
He wipes your hand on his shirt, taking most of the pigment with it as he strolls to his cluttered counter, a tray of half cut brownies waiting on the edge, balanced precariously. You can see the jars behind him, half full of buds of weed in mason jars. There’s an orchid growing out of a bottle of Makers Mark.
He grabs dark sweats from a haphazardly folded pile, pulls one shirt, then another, before settling on a third and giving them to you. From his pantry he gives pulls a towel in jewel tones before opening the door to his bathroom, depositing them on a cluttered vanity. You catch a glimpse of more plants before he skitters back to the kitchen, a knife held loosely in his grip as he ponders the slab of brownie.
“Have you…”
“I went to college Dieter” you reply, rolling your eyes.
He cuts two pieces, cutting one in half before offering it to you. The chocolate smells rich and heavenly, decadent in the weight of it as you take a bite, the flavours exploding across your tongue as you taste cinnamon and brown sugar, just a hint of the vegetal weed exploding across your senses.
He eats the other half, and then another piece as you finish yours. You notice the way he lingers on your lips as you suck the chocolate from your thumb. He points to the bathroom; you enter to another jungle. There’s a plant in a terracotta pot in the corner of his shower. All the soap is cluttered on the floor.
But the shower itself is a marvel. You lock the door behind you and stare, the giant square head protruding right from the ceiling, and you know it will rain down on you like that first day you met him, heavy and warm and soothing. You fold your clothes neatly, rolling them to fit in your handbag as you turn the water on, immediately jealous of the hot water streaming from his taps.
It washes down the drain at your feet as you turn under the heavy spray. The tension that had been slowly leaking from your pores turns to a gush as you relax, allowing your eyes to drift shut as the hot water hammers your shoulders, your palms braced on the tile. Idly, you wonder if Dieter had ever placed his hands here, if he stood in this same position.
It was cold enough to stand outside and will himself to calm down. The sound of the shower had his cock perking up with interest. It had been silenced by your tears as you moulded yourself onto his lap, but the idea that you were naked mere feet from him had brought it back to life with a roar. He forced himself into the cold, tucking himself into the waistband of his sweats as he looked over his apartment. He shoved the toys into the bottom drawer, wincing at the stickiness of dried lube as he made note to run them through the dishwasher in the morning. He turned off the overhead lights, grabbing a weighted blanket from the bed and throwing it with a grunt onto the couch.
The lava lamp on the coffee table gave off a blueish softness, making him feel as though he was underwater, his limbs heavy as he loaded up a bowl with salted cashews, grabbing a few sodas from his fridge as he scrolled through the DVD menu, waiting to hear the water stop.
Oh. Oh.
Oh, you look so good in his clothes. Your hair is still damp as you exit, clouds of steam billowing with you as if you’re a goddess come to earth, shoving your handbag into a corner with his laundry. His brain is static, all white noise and lust as he watches the way his shirt stretches across your tits. You’re wearing fabric that has touched his skin, that smells like him. You’re going to smell like him. His cock twitches dangerously at his hip.
“Dracula first” he says, amazed he found words other than begging you to let him taste what you taste like mixed together.
*
Everything is so deliciously warm. You’re under a blanket that presses on your thighs, the weight making you feel heavy. Everything is clouds and deep breaths, blurry and hazy, a film left too long exposed. Your fingers are salty from cashews, the texture on your skin making a pleasant hum as you shift closer to Dieter again. He’s blurry too, as though you’re looking at him underwater, and your palm, swimming in and out of focus makes you giggle, as you trace the lines he did, trying to recreate his steps.
“Mount of Venus” you say, your tongue thick and warbling as you press into the padded flesh.
“Mhm” he replies, deep and rumbling, an ancient carving next to you. You rest your head on his shoulder, your palm in his lap and wait.
“Pleasure” he says, his fingers twitching across the blanket. “Love of beauty, and expression. Warm and open, giving to others. Intimacy, sexual expression”
“You said mine was pronounced.” You grab his hand, flipping it in the mirror of your first meeting, trailing your fingers across his palm. You feel him shiver next to you. “Yours is too”
“Mhm” he repeats, his head lolling to look at you. He’s beautiful really. The blue shadows dancing across his features. His skin is soft, the lines deep in his face. There are mismatched patches on his beard, he’s greying around the jaw. You want to scrape a finger across it, but your arms feel too heavy to lift.
“I’m not going to kiss you Bette” he says, flipping his hand onto yours, matching those movements with a delicate touch. It races up your spine, flames licking at your senses as you sigh, shift even closer to him.
“Why not?”
“We’re high. And I made a promise. And I haven’t gotten tested, and you haven’t gotten tested, so even if I was going to kiss you, I’d have to deny myself everything else. And if I did kiss you, you’d vanish so fast in the morning, and it would take months to get back here. And if I want you like this by the New Year, it’s better to be patient”
He sounds sober in the moment. A determination in his voice as he presses his thumb into your pulse. You know he’s right. The tiny voice that’s drowned by weed shouts agreement. You would run from him in the morning – you’d know immediately it was a mistake.
“And if we weren’t?” you ask, edging yourself over the flame.
“Are you sure you want to know?” he asks, nodding to the TV, where Boris Karloff follows the Ave Maria to find a friend.
“Tell me what I’m missing”
“Have you ever been properly fucked beautiful girl?”
He watches the way your pupils’ contract. The tremble in your lip at the hitch in your breath. He feels your pulse jump beneath his fingers, feels the twin twitch beneath his own sweats. He’s thought about nothing but properly fucking you, of taking apart every put together piece of you and rearranging them between his sheets. Of finding every spot that makes you giggle, squirm, moan. Of what you look like covered in a thin film of sweat, of the way you swallow when you cum.
“Yes” you whisper.
“Liar” he accuses. “You’d be thinking of them right now, not wondering what I mean. Do you know what I mean Loulou? When I say I want to properly fuck you?”
“No” its breathy and soft, and he knows that’s exactly what you’ll sound like when he finally buries himself to the hilt inside you.
“I’ve thought about it a lot.”
He’s throbbing, thankful and mournful for the weighted blanket not betraying the weight of his cock pressed into his hip. He can feel it, the first sticky bead as it seeps into the waistband. You’re watching his mouth, your eyes focused on his tongue over teeth as he sucks in a breath, tries to calm himself.
“I’d start at your neck. I know someone in college probably got it right on accident. Found the spot where if you scrape their teeth just right, you’d whimper. That spot, and then the others, under your jaw, right down the middle of your throat. I’m going to mark you; my beard alone will leave you red. But I want my teeth as well, I want to brand it right over your pulse, watch it bloom like an opening flower. I want you weak kneed, grinding up against me because you’re already soaking wet.”
“Do you think you’re that good?”
“I know I’m that good. It’s the getting you naked part that will be a problem the first time. Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. I think I’m going to destroy a bit of your clothing, my clothing, to begin with. I’m a fan of a good striptease, but I think that will have to wait until later. Once the ravenous hunger has died down a bit.”
You squirm. Just enough that he knows you’re pressing your thighs together, that some of the lazy warmth has concentrated right between your legs.
“I have to taste you. I’m desperate to taste you. Some days I lay on that bed and think about all the different ways I want to. I want to have you spread open on that armchair downstairs so I can see just how wet you are – I want you on my face, I want to pull all your weight on me, so I can feel how your whole body twitches when you cum. I want to watch you open for me, watch the way your clit swells every time I wrap my lips around it, the throbbing of your cunt before I even work my fingers inside.”
You whimper. Its enough to make him hiss. A strain against his muscles as he grinds his hips into nothing. You’re both unsettled now, shifting to find comfort against your own skin. His cock hurts, and you’re right here and you smell like him, and all he’s touching is your palm.
“You’d take one finger for me, easy. Two and three might take more coaxing, but I know you’ll take them for me. You’ll be so out of it by the first time I make you cum that the second and third will feel like a wave, crashing and breaking and not stopping. I think three might make you squirt; I hope it does. I want to be drenched in you, drink it down. I think you’re going to taste like blueberries, sugared and sweet and dripping. I want my palm soaked in you; this mount of Venus pressed right up against your clit. If you’re good for me, if you do what I want, I’ll share. I’ll gather all of you onto my tongue and spit it right in your mouth. Ill make you cum again with my tongue halfway down your throat.”
“Jesus…”
“You need stretching Loulou. I need to take my time, even though I’ll be fucking the sheets like a wild animal, getting them sticky and wet with how much I want you. If you’re sitting on my face, you might see me fuck my fist to take the edge off – a poor substitute as I’ve discovered”
“Why?”
“You know why” he replies, flipping your wrist to press against him over the blankets. He watches as your eyes widen, the thickness of him matching the delicate bones in your wrist. He pulls your hand away before you can curl your fingers in the fabric. He watches your free hand disappear beneath the blankets, the way your eyes glaze over as you press your fingers between your thighs.
“Once you’re ready, you’ll have to get used to it. It’s going to take time, for me to cram my cock inside you. You’re going to feel like heaven, and I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to hold off from pounding your slick little cunt. I’ll need you to help me, rake your nails through my hair, down my back, mark me up like I’ve marked you. If you need toys, I have them. If you want to watch the way you fit me I’ll film it.”
“Then what” he can see your hips rocking beneath the blankets. The lazy slow fucking of your own hand over his clothing makes him groan. He’s dangerously close himself, the weight of the elastic on the head of his cock enough to have him dribbling, he can feel it sliding over his skin, seeping into his shirt as he closes his eyes, willing himself not to cum.
“You’ll get fucked properly beautiful. I’ll fuck you until you can’t form words, until you’re drooling from my fingers in your mouth, until you can’t hold yourself upright. Until all your body knows how to do is submit to it. To give in and sink under and cum again, so hard you squeeze my fat cock out, so I can run it across that swollen berry of a clit and make you scream. Wherever I cum, you’re sharing. If its in your pretty little mouth you can’t swallow, I want to kiss you till its dripping all over your tits. If its inside you I’m going to fuck a dildo into you and lick it off. I want it on your skin, I want it on my skin. I want every time to be so fucking filthy we need to change the sheets. I want you as ruined as I am, for anybody else but me.”
“Dieter…” you whimper, your nails digging into his palm as he watches you stiffen, the little shudders across your skin as it breaks out in goosebumps, your mouth falling open in a moan. The bite of pain across his hand strikes the match and he cums, panting and untouched into his own skin, threading his fingers through yours to hold your hand, both of you squeezing in time.
He shifts, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he drags you to lay in the deep couch, curled up against his chest. You can smell the mingled scent of your release in the air as you press your face into his shirt, suddenly embarrassed as his hand rests between your shoulder blades.
“Then… we do this. You lay in my arms, or I lay in yours and we catch our breath together. There will be some differences, if you’re wearing a shirt, my hand will be up it, I can already tell I’m going to be obsessed with your tits”
You smile, some of the embarrassment shrinking at the matter-of-factness in his tone.
“And then we fall asleep, and when we wake up, we do it all again. That is the rest of my life Loulou.”
You can’t think of what to say. Shifting to place your hands on his hips you allow yourself the luxury of relaxing into his arms, his thumb stroking the same metronome on your spine as you close your eyes and let the exhaustion pull you under, a deep and dreamless sleep.
You wake before him in the morning. The sobering light coming from his balcony makes you stiffen. Fear boils like filtered water through your blood as you taste salt on your lips. His hold on you has slackened in sleep, allowing you to slip free without waking him, searching for your shoes, grabbing your handbag from the corner. Processing the night before isn’t an option. You need some distance to put it in a box, and label it as something other than the emotion coiling in your belly like an angry viper. You find your shoes on his counter.
As you walk past the couch he grabs your hand. You look down at him, his eyes bleary with sleep as he smiles at you. He says nothing, hooking his pinkie into yours and nodding. He lets you go, closing his eyes as you stand like a statue in front of him.
You don’t give yourself time to second guess the decision before you crawl back under the blanket. He reaches over you and presses play.
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another new toy
I've been planning to get a number of accessories for my new computer. A new monitor, microphone, maybe one of those vr headsets. But after having it for a few weeks, one thing jumped out as needing an upgrade more urgently than anything else - the stock full size keyboard that came with it was just too large and awkward for my little keyboard shelf. I was tempted to go back to the Microsoft Compact Bluetooth keyboard that I was using with the Steam Deck... but I haven't had a "real" computer, like a proper desktop computer in decades, I wanted a "real" keyboard to go with it. Like a proper mechanical keyboard with switches and buttons and such. And so I typed "mechanical keyboard reviews" into a youtube search, blissfully unaware of the rabbit hole I was about to fall down.
If you know then you already know, but it came as a surprise to me that membrane keyboards are so cheap and so easy to mass produce that they've taken over the casual market altogether, forcing mechanical keyboards into the domain of the ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚enthusiast⋆ ˚｡⋆˚
Yes, it seems proper keyboards are a hobby now, not a very cheap one either, and the very last thing I need is another expensive hobby. But every hobby has its more affordable and approachable on ramps, and there are a number of pre-built budget boards occupying this space in world of mechanical keyboards. After watching a few dozen hours of youtube videos and reading a bunch of reviews and tutorials, I eventually settled on the RK84 'limited edition' from Royal Kludge for us$80. Which is like twice what I expected to pay when I in my naive innocence began shopping for keyboards, but I've come to understand that eighty bucks absolutely counts as "budget" in this hobby.
Pricing aside, I really do love my new keyboard. The 75% form factor is ideal, better centering the typing keys and saving a bunch of extra space on my little shelf while maintaining all the functionality of a full size board save only for the number pad. While I do like to use a number pad, I don't mind taking one out when I need it, and the keyboard even has a couple usb ports to easily plug a mouse and separate number pad into, which is super convenient and such an obvious idea that I really have to wonder why all keyboards aren't doubling as USB multi-dongles at this point, with additional usb ports, sd card ports, and so on.
For $10 more than the regular RK84 wireless, the 'limited edition' version has better keycaps, factory-lubed switches, some filler foam in the housing to reduce the hollow sound, an additional layer of sound dampening foam sandwiched between the top plate and the pcb, and a snazzy color scheme, the version I chose combining a black body and mostly black keys with a white top plate that better reflects the swirly rainbow rgb backlighting. The sound is decent, at least to my untrained ear, right out of the box. Which is ideal, as I'd like to avoid the temptation to start modding it.
Because I've gone about as far down this particular rabbit hole as I want to go.
Though I suppose it is tempting to open it up, as some basic tape & band aid mods would be cheap and easy and might improve the sound a bit...
And as much as the pre-lubed yellow linear switches are nice, I did make sure to get a hot-swappable board so it's easy to change them out later if I want to try alternatives, and I do think I might prefer tactile switches for typing...
And the rgb lighting is nice enough that it really is a shame these caps aren't shine though. Yeah, yeah, shine-through is tacky, but Cringe is Dead, and some black top pudding caps might really make the lighting pop. Or maybe a mix of black, white and some accent color to match the color layout that the board came with?
The abyss, it tempts me so...
#mechanical keyboard#keyboards#computers#I really can't be starting any expensive new hobbies#student loan payments start back up in September
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🖱 — any cool devices/tool(s) of the trade? (i.e. type of mouse, monitor, keyboard, tablet, etc)
I'm a bit of a techie, as well as a few of my IRL friends, so yeah! you don't need stuff as fancy as me to RP, but i do like to game and such.
There's two setups- I have my own laptop, it's relatively new with a rainbow keyboard- one designed for gaming, which i do appreciate as the few steam games i have can be intensive. It's got noise-filtering software, so it's a....decent laptop mic, used it for my last few vocaroos.
It's what I RP on since getting it. My usual intent is to have all my icons on both of our machines, but i haven't been on our gaming PC much due to IRL stress.
My tablet for drawing is ancient tho- a wacom bamboo fun I've had since i was a teenager.
Our gaming PC is a nice piece of tech we have as a married couple!
It was a wedding gift intended for VR, and my friends ordered the parts. I helped build it, and have serviced it myself- touched every part.
It's my streaming PC too- since we got a capture card it functions as a nice monitor for our switches! I can alt-tab from there (OBS) into anything else! Since its monitor is my husband's 4K TV, it kinda functions as a....PC TV hybrid? It's got a sound bar and is on an 'entertainment center' (bench i assembled myself.)
Since it's TV-esque, it's my husband's main computer when he's home, too- I prioritize RP and gaming, he's more into netflix ,youtube, and discord.
It's got a blue yeti mic hooked up, much higher quality.
I haven't played much VR in a while, but I do love beat saber so the headset is laying around somewhere unplugged.
As for RP itself, I use Firealpaca if i ever wanna make icons, and photoscape X to edit them- it has a batch editor!
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FAQ
(update 11/16/23)
what reshade/gshade are you using?
I use gshade preset by Amelie: Pearl
how do you edit your photos?
I use Photoshop and editing apps
will you share your mods folder?
No, because it violates the creator's terms of use
where do you share your builds/sims?
I share my builds on the gallery for free (id: byLoveNana) or on my patreon page for to pay
how do i download the cc you use?
On my master post resources page
why do you make a cc list and not share in a folder?
because it's easier for me to list the cc's I used. and I will not share my mod folder
you make cc's packs?
No. It wouldn't be fair to the creators to pack it all together (they went to a lot of work to create them)
what are your pc specs?
Processor: AMD Ryzen 7 5700x 3.4GHz
Video: RTX 3060 gaming GeForce 12Gb Gigabyte
Ram: 64Gb
HD Driver: 1Tb
SSD: 2Tb
Power: ATX 750w rainbow RGB
Water Cooler: Rise Mode Frost RGB
Motherboard: ASRock B450M Steel Legend AMD AM4
Keyboard: Fantasy Purple Bastic wired blue swicth mechanical RGB
Mouse: wired mechanical gaming RGB 6400 DPI Purple Onikuma
Headset: Onikuma K9 RGB purple
Microphone: Maono Gamerwave RGB white
Mouse Pad: Oversized gaming purple 390x860x3mm anti-slip
CPU: gamer K-mex Jeager CG-W2TJ RGB 5 fan
Gaming chair: Meriland Little Devil RGB
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#JakeReviewsItch
A Lullaby of Colors
by andyman404
Genre: Action
Pitch: "This is a blissful psychedelic relaxation experience made for both VR and non-VR."
My expectations: I don't have a VR headset, so right away, I'm worried this game's primary reason for existing (if it is a game at all) will be lost on me. Developer andyman404's Itch page lists 70 releases in the last seven years, along with a claim that he's participated in more than 140 game jams.
I'm hoping andyman404's catalogue is sprinkled with a miracle or two, but I get nervous when I see someone bounce from project to project that quickly. Is he mixing all of them with love?
Review:
Create a matrix.
Create some blocks.
Use the values of the matrix for the positional z-value of each block.
Apply a mathematical formula to change the values in the matrix over time, within a defined range.
Congratulations. You made art, I guess.
If you want to get really fancy, generate a grayscale image and extract the value of each pixel to populate your matrix. Wheeeee!
The above is my own explanation with my own illustrations. Let me be absolutely clear: A Lullaby of Colors is not about creating and manipulating matrices. A Lullaby of Colors is this:
I like rainbow blobs just fine, but I’ve seen this kind of height mapping a hundred times. I’m over it.
Changing hues is done pretty much the same way as changing heights.
Touch a bouncing ball, and the mathematical formula changes. Maybe this is cool in VR? I ran the game on max settings and encountered frequent frame-rate dips. I dropped to the lowest settings, which looked worse, but performance didn’t improve at all. Seems potentially nauseating.
The bouncing ball makes wind chime sounds, and someone loves their keyboard's “Choir” choir setting. Aaaaa… Aaaaa… Naaaaah…
+ Rainbow blobs are pretty.
+ Inoffensive, unobtrusive, new-age-y sound. The kind of backing that's popular in guided meditation.
– Not much to see or do.
– Minor performance issues. Not a big deal on a monitor, but think twice before trying it in VR.
🧡🤍🤍🤍🤍
#JakeReviewsTwitch is a series of daily game reviews. You can learn more here. You can also browse past reviews...
• By name
• By rating
• By genre
#JakeReviewsItch#Computer Games#Video Games#Itch.io#Reviews#A Lullaby of Colors#andyman404#Digital Toy#Meditative#Wave for Me#Mike Shillingburg#Game Jam
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Price: [price_with_discount]
(as of [price_update_date] - Details)
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Techguy4u RGB Rainbow Backlit Gaming Keyboard and Mouse Combo, LED PC Gaming Headset with Microphone, Large Mouse Pad, Small Compact 87 Keys USB Wired Mechanical Feeling Keyboard for Computer Gamer Office Features: Stylish Rainbow LED Backlit Rainbow backlit makes it easier to type in the dark, but yet not so bright that it’s offensive to eyes. Brightness and light mode are adjustable. Compact Size Keyboard Compact and slim design for easy packing and transportation. It takes less space on your desk and frees up more space for mouse movement. High Quality and Durable Specially designed keys and laser-etched and grip coated key caps to enhance durability and tactile feedback. Plug-and-Play User-Friendly No driver needed. Compatible with Windows 10/8/7/Vista/XP and Mac OS. *** Please contact seller to get user manual.
【Backlit Modes】Fn+Scroll: Rgb light mode; Fn+Home: Light breathing mode. Fn+PgUp: Adjust the brightness plus; Fn+PgDn: Adjust the brightness reduction. Please note the keyboard does not have the numeric keypad to the right.
【Gaming Mouse】 Ergonomically designed construction,6 Buttons. Made of quality ABS plastic, Comfortable and durable ; 4 Different LED breathing light change automatically; 4 Levels DPI Adjustable: 800/1200/1600/2000; Forward button + DPI button can turn on/off the mouse backlight.
【Exquisite Mouse Pad】 The mouse pad size:11.8 x 9.8 inch, provide large space for mouse moving, made of superior material, smooth exquisite cloth on surface provide comfortable wrist rest support, the rubber at the bottom ensures mouse pad does not slip.
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Nanoleaf LED shapes and light bars now sync with Corsair gaming products
Nanoleaf, known for its modular wall lighting tiles, has teamed up with gaming company Corsair to make your setup more immersive and colorful. A new integration called Nanoleaf x CORSAIR lets you sync up Nanoleaf’s smart lights to in-game explosions, actions and sounds.
The integration works with Corsair’s portfolio of peripherals, including keyboards, gaming mice and headsets. Much as you can with your keyboard or PC peripheral lights, you’ll be able to program lighting effects on your wall using the Nanoleaf or Corsair iCue apps on your desktop. To give a flavor, they have names like “Rainbow Wave” and “Rain,” similar to what you may have seen for keyboard lighting effects.
Nanoleaf
To set it up, you install the iCUE software, then switch on the Nanoleaf integration and add Nanoleaf to iCUE lighting. At that point, everything will work together and provide “synchronized lighting across your whole setup,” according to Nanoleaf.
Nanoleaf offers kits for gamers, and already offers integration with Razer (using Synapse 3) and MSI via Mystic Light — so working with Corsair’s peripherals seems a natural extension of this. Aside from creating some extra vibes for game environments, they’ll let you get even more creative with your lighting setup.
All products recommended by Engadget are selected by our editorial team, independent of our parent company. Some of our stories include affiliate links. If you buy something through one of these links, we may earn an affiliate commission. All prices are correct at the time of publishing.
Source link
Originally published at Melbourne News Vine
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Defoko vcv download
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With these files present in the voicebank's folder, it should look something like below when clicked on in UTAU. $read is generated by UTAU a readme.txt or character.txt is present. Readme.txt is what is shown the description box of an UTAU. Oto.ini's are the configuration settings of an UTAU, and are extremely important. Icon.bmp is the file of the icon that appears in UTAU, either a 150x150 or a 100x100 bmp.Ĭharacter.txt dictates what shows up when you click on an UTAU's icon, such as name, author, and description. frq files are frequency files made and used by the resampler, and are auto generated if they are not present.
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Wav files are the actual recordings themselves, and without them UTAU would have nothing to synthesize. Izmeraldas REBIRTH VCV UTAU Voicebank has been released The download link is on my UTAUs Official Website, the link to which you can find on my Carrd. Voicebanks have these different files for a reason, and it's important to understand why. Voicebanks are not limited to or required to have these files though―as some lack one or more of these files, or they have extras, such as an "install.txt", an extras folder, etc.Įxample of what you might see in a voicebank What are these files for? frq/other resampler files, an icon.bmp, a character and readme.txt, a $read file, and an oto.ini. Download the most recent version (most likely the v0.4 etc. You can either drag and drop the file into UTAU, extract the voicebank in the "voice" folder of UTAU or if the file is a. If a binary release is not available, an option can be provided on the command line to fall back on building.
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There are three different ways to install voicebanks. This simple script parses the plugin information provided by the VCV Rack community repository and download the binary release versions of plugins available for the specified target platform (Windows, MacOS, Linux).
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I reccomend Winrar― it's simple, and gives you a 40 day trial period that never actually runs out. rar files, as most voicebanks are packaged in these types of files. You will need a program capable of unarchiving. Installing voicebanks is a simple proccess, but it can sometimes vary, depending on the file's type. However, thousands of voicebanks are able to be download and used.
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UTAU itself doesn't come with any voicebanks preinstalled besides " Defoko", a robotic voice made from the synthesis software AquesTone. He also has a set of circle rainbow-colored keyboards around him.A "voicebank" refers to the sound library. This also explains why he weighs 25 tons. Voiced by Mayo Oyamano () Illustration by Sen () Utane Uta/Defoko. Created in 2009 as an April Fools joke to fool VOCALOID fans. The official explanation for this is that missiles were built into Ritsu's torso, not a padded bra as some fans speculate. Kasane Teto () is the most popular character of UTAU. Ritsu has a bustline but is shrewdly covered by the upper wear with no exposed cleavage. His eyes are dark purple that fade into canary, that match his violet headset with orange illuminations. Ritsu has flaming red hair and a purple top hat with a small veil. To start, I have downloaded all 5 expressions as well as organized and. 波音= Wave Sound, リツ= Pitch, Rhythm, Principle - Also presumably the converse of tsuri (troll) VCV was the second major recording method created by the UTAU community. Despite being assumed Japanese, he is misanthropic and loves North Korea, while disliking Japan. Then, open up UTAU, open your VCV UST, select all the notes, go to Tools (Im assuming you have the english patch), plugins, and click on the needed plugin.
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He enjoys Choco Krispies and chinese cabbage, with the latter being his official "character item". However, download The Unarchiver for Mac and use it instead of the default unzipping utility on your computer, or else youll get mojibake voicebanks when you unzip them. Ritsu is a 6 year old okama (crossdresser) and a bully who's favorite tactic is purple nurples. On October 9, 2019, Canon released Ritsu's DeepVocal bank. Canon mentioned on twitter that the sharpkey voicebank was finished on October, 2018 but wasn't realeased due to circumstances. The website was updated with information about a potential Sharpkey voicebank. Leaving users questioning the possibility of a new voicebank. In 2018, a placeholder button was added to Ritsu's voicebank list. Namine Ritsu was first released for the UTAU synthesis engine on October 12th, 2009. In the wake of the first successful troll from the "Vippers" (Vip News users), known as Kasane Teto, annual fake VOCALOIDs developed by "Crvpton" were developed by the same bulletin board, though noticeably less serious.
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4-in-1 Gaming Keyboard Mouse Combo,87 Keys Rainbow Mechanical Keyboard,RGB 12000 DPI Lightweight Pink Gaming Mouse with Honeycomb Shell,3.5mm Gaming Stereo Headset for PC Laptop Computer
4-in-1 Gaming Keyboard Mouse Combo,87 Keys Rainbow Mechanical Keyboard,RGB 12000 DPI Lightweight Pink Gaming Mouse with Honeycomb Shell,3.5mm Gaming Stereo Headset for PC Laptop Computer
Price: (as of – Details)
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
【87 Key Mechanical Gaming Keyboard】ALL 87 mechanical gaming keyboards keys are conflict free (n-Key…
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officially a gamer girl ✌🏻✌🏻
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