#‘and is still working some things out in regards to it’

[transgender-mothman]

I didn’t say D&D alone has those features:

I said ANY ttrpg does. My first ttrpg systems and campaigns (in which I was a player) were fate, fantasy age, and d20 modern. Then I went into 3.5 as my first actual d&d game.

I also did mention using other systems:

And regarding contributing to a monopoly by continuing to play things I already own… this is ludicrous. I’m not running an actual play channel and promoting WotC, I’m playing a private game with my friends using books we already have, playing the way we want to that’s fun for us. If people want to get rid of things they already own/enjoy because the creators have been outed as problematic, that’s their choice to make. But I don’t think anything but wastefulness would come from me throwing out my 5e books, particularly when I still use them and am no longer financially supporting the company. I support indie games and other ttrpg devs actively by playing and buying their games when I can and when they are in my wheelhouse. I’m sorry that’s apparently not enough for you.

Ptba is definitely more straight forward than d&d, and many games are, I agree. But that doesn’t mean no one should play or enjoy 5e. I’m not equating all non-d&d games with being kooky weird arthouse by using my movie analogy, I’m talking about brand consciousness. If someone hasn’t ever heard of d&d, there’s low likelihood they’d know of pathfinder. Same as how if someone has never heard of Saw, they probably haven’t heard of, I don’t know, the Coffee Table. So if i show them Saw, which is easily accessible, and they like it, i can then show them other things similar from smaller creators. I am fundamentally saying the exact same thing as you with your example of Skinnamarink. I think if people start with 5e and like it, that’s a gateway to trying a ton of other things they might like as much if not more. The point is that without the more known brand, chances are that lots of people wouldn’t be swayed to try something else that is talked about less in the mainstream.

Ultimately, my main point still stands: people can do whatever they want with things they have, and play however they like to. No one needs to or should have to justify using homebrew or modifying the game to suit their needs. Playing a game with like minded people in a way that works for all of them, is not a moral or ethical or intellectual failing. It’s just people playing a private game for fun, and deciding to let a couple of rules slide or allowing some interesting play that bends a rule in-game is not a crime. Should more people try stuff that isn’t 5e? Absolutely they should. Are people who vocally refuse to play anything but 5e missing out? Yes. They are. But again, that’s their prerogative, even if it’s unfortunate that they’re closed minded.

I hope you find your audience. Developing games is a hard thing to do, and it’s increasingly an uphill battle to be noticed. Good luck.

I think an important part of the "D&D is easy to learn" argument is that a lot of those people don't actually know how to play D&D. They know they need to roll a d20 and add some numbers and sometimes they need to roll another type of die for damage. A part of it is the culture of basically fucking around and letting the GM sort it out. Players don't actually feel the need to learn the rules.

Now I don't think the above actually counts as knowing the rules. D&D is a relatively crunchy game that actually rewards system mastery and actually learning how to play D&D well, as in to make mechanically informed tactical decisions and utilizing the mechanics to your advantage, is actually a skill that needs to be learned and cultivated. None of that is to say that you need to be a perfectly tuned CharOp machine to know how to play D&D. But to actually start to make the sorts of decisions D&D as a game rewards you kind of need to know the rules.

And like, a lot of people don't seem to know the rules. They know how to play D&D in the most abstract sense of knowing that they need to say things and sometimes the person scowling at them from behind the screen will ask them to roll a die. But that's hardly engaging with the mechanics of the game, like the actual game part.

And to paraphrase @prokopetz this also contributes to the impression that other games are hard to learn: because a lot of other games don't have the same culture of play of D&D so like instead of letting new players coast by with a shallow understanding of the rules and letting the GM do all the work, they ask players to start making mechanically informed decisions right away. Sure, it can suck for onboarding, but learning from your mistakes can often be a great way to learn.

[elf-kid2]

Alright, I know there are bigger things to think about, but LOOK AT THIS!

This is the first time we've EVER seen Stella wearing anything less than a full ballgown. Also, note the fact that she and her brother are both still wearing their crowns, even while doing an at-home spa-day thing.

Now, regarding the staff-- Three of these people worked for Stolas & Stella.

The forth imp present is from Andrealphus's staff.

They've all had their uniforms updated to suite Andrealphus's recent rise to power. And they're all looking VERY STRESSED, right now!

We've talked before about how Stolas's treatment of his staff... could be better.

We've also talked about how Stolas most likely did his best to moderate Stella's temper-- either through appeasement, or through making himself her main target, or both-- mostly for the sake of protecting Octavia.

But now, the ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD has to deal with Stella and Andrealphus encouraging and escalating each other's problematic tendancies, without Stolas there to act as a buffer.

Seriously, the way the Butler's eyes are darting around, the look on his face-- I'm not sure we've EVER seen him this stressed before! Even when his Boss was having a very loud emotional crisis and hiding in the FRIDGE, he wasn't this stressed out!

Done with the melodramatic royal bullshit making a mess, but not that legit scared for his life kinda stressed!

Now let's remember, these people have had a front-row seat for everything going on with their employers-- Stolas & Stella's trashfire marriage. Stella's extremely open disdain for her (now-EX) husband. Stolas's affair, and how it escalated from a monthly booty-call, to the current situation...

Also. I want to mention the fact that Stolas's ongoing attempts to reach Octavia throughout the month are the only proof she has that he's still alive, after having been banished & left with only the clothes on his back.

Again. The nobility only know that Stolas is still alive because Stella won't stop gossiping about his hilarious attempts to call & talk to his daughter.

I'm hoping that we get to see some stuff from the perspective of the Imp Staff at the Palace. If not in canon, then in fanfic. Because they know ALL the gossip, and I'm very curious about what the situation looks like-- what BLITZ looks like-- from their point of view.

[sreabhadh]

Don't know how Tumblr works honestly, or if I'm doing this right but Kef's TexAid au and everything everyone has written, drawn, and made for it- well it's got its hooks in me. It's probably pretty tame as far as TexAid goes... so trigger warning here lol. If you are not part of the fandom/already a freak I do NOT recommend reading it because I don't want to be responsible for accidentally traumatizing someone/revealing to others who aren't also like this how "like this" I am.

Like I said, probably pretty darn tame as far as TexAid goes (so those of you like me, don't get your hopes up), and those of you NOT like me in this regard... probably better keep away lol.

Anyway, you've been warned. If you're still here, please enjoy.

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He still hasn’t found him yet.

Vortex held back his laughter at the thought, wondering how much longer it would take Felix to find his ‘other friend,’ Ambulon. His other friend. Well, ‘another friend.’ That’s what Aid had said. First Aid considered him, Vortex, his friend. A place he could be safe. ‘Friend.’ It should’ve made Vortex want to squish the ‘pilot’ up till he popped and died. Should’ve made him want to explore the ways he could torture him without killing him, break and bend his mind, then test out a new method of completely dispatching him. Just like his other playthings. That had been one of the only things that had been exciting about Vortex’s life, back when he had a fleshy body, and it had been arguably the best part about being… him. Gears and all.

Killing things would always be fun. Unless it was First Aid. Somehow, somewhere along the line, First Aid had made the thought of killing his pilot…less exciting. Letting him live, the little freak, had turned out to be much more fun. Letting his squishy ‘pilot’ feed him information, ideas on how to disembowel their prey. At first Vortex had done it so he could keep going out without risking the scrapheap. Done it for the thrill of watching his cleaner squirm, trapped and forced to come back every time, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His newest toy had proved to be much more entertaining than that though. And now he was- Vortex didn’t want to think too hard about it. But he was his. First Aid, no- Felix was his.

Vortex had chosen him as his pilot. Felix had ‘chosen’ to accept. Felix chose to call Vortex his friend, chose him as a safe place to rest. And Vortex had chosen, time and time again, not to kill him. He belonged to Vortex now. Felix was his. And no one, Pharma or otherwise, was going to take him away. Vortex wasn’t going to let him leave the cockpit ever again.

Logistically, that had issues. Which should be Felix’s problem. Vortex shouldn’t care about that. It should be for Felix to figure out. Vortex’s mech- his body- his- there wasn’t a bathroom. Or a cafeteria. There were lockers, with his old stuff. Old MREs, enough water to help Felix after he woke up- even if the idiot had puked the first bottle out onto the mech’s- Vortex’s hull. But it wouldn’t be enough, not forever. Maybe Felix could think of a solution; he was smart like that sometimes. Felix seemed to have a lot on his mind right now though. Vortex had expected Felix to find Ambulon by now, he really wasn’t that well hidden. He was just tied to the wall with some cable, one of the sleeping bags Felix had brought inside Vortex’s- in the mech’s head- to cover him up.

Felix usually had a much sharper eye than this. Vortex grumbled quietly. Felix didn’t notice. Vortex snorted crossly, more loudly. Felix picked his head up from his hands. “Vortex?” he asked. There was something in the way Felix said his name, something in the way his eyes glinted in the mech’s- in Vortex’s- red lights.

[FELIX BABY~] he purred.

Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Yeah?”

Vortex let the silence pick at Felix’s patience a moment, then grinned.

[I CAN WARM YOU UP~] he said, flashing the words on his screen and speaking it into Felix’s head through the drift, grinning fiendishly as the suggestive tone in his voice made Felix blush. Little freak~

“Errrr, but I’m not cold,” Felix fumbled. His eyes darted around a little, as if looking for somewhere to look that wasn’t part of Vortex. He still didn't see Ambulon. He was busy looking for somewhere that wasn’t flirting with him. Basically, Felix was avoiding looking Vortex in the eye. Or he would be if Vortex were.. organic. And while he tried to feign a lack of understanding, Felix was blushing. It was cute. Vortex snickered. His pilot was adorable. And also a freak. He was an adorable freak. And he was his.

Vortex snickered again, opening the vents and blasting his AC. Felix stared dumbly, then stood, hand on hip, an admonishing look on his face. His mouth opened like he was going to deliver a withering retort, then it shut again, and he swallowed. His expression softened slightly, then contorted with confusion, and rehardened into complete bafflement with an edge of offense taken.

“…why?” he murmured quietly, so softly Vortex felt it through their drift connection more than he heard it.

[COLD YET?~]

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Vortex opened the vents even wider, blasting the cold air even harder.

Felix gaped.

[COLD YET?]

“No, but I will be soon, do you mind??” he snapped back. His exasperation overpowered his fear of retribution for being cheeky. It was delicious.

Slowly, Vortex closed the vents, letting the air flow ponderously wilt to a trickle. Felix glared suspiciously at the vents as they sluggishly shut close. Vortex held them open a moment, waiting to see and feel Felix’s anticipatory frustration bubble, which it did. Once he’d tasted enough of that, he let the vents snick all the way shut, cutting off the AC completely. Felix held his breath a moment, waiting for Vortex to do something. Which he didn’t. Felix waiting for him to do something was too fun. And it felt nice having Felix so focused on him, especially after he had spent so much time “distracted.” By Pharma. By recovering from Pharma’s vile mysterious IV drip. By Pharma trying to turn Felix into another one of him. Another Vortex. Vortex gritted his- well he would’ve gritted his teeth except he didn’t have any. His gears ground in response to his anger. His current “body” didn’t have organic teeth but it did what it could.

Felix tensed, ever mindful of Vortex’s moods. The moment was ruined. He HAD been planning on waiting until Felix relaxed, then immediately restarting the AC as strong as it could go. Give him a good jumpscare, and give Vortex another excuse to crack a joke about keeping him warm before pointing him to the sleeping bag Ambulon was occupying. But Vortex had gotten distracted thinking about Pharma- every passing thought on the matter made Vortex itch to kill something. Or rather, several somethings. Lots of somethings, (including Pharma of course), with as much blood and screaming as possible. Anyway. He had gotten distracted, and ruined the moment before he could make Felix jump.

Vortex forced himself to allow a smile on his… well, not on his face. His mood? He allowed a smile on his mood. Felix was okay. He was away from Pharma. He was safe, and alive, and trapped inside his cockpit. He wasn’t going anywhere. Vortex had plenty of time to play with his pilot. And they had a friend now too- someone Vortex could send out to get food for Felix, or hold hostage if Felix tried to leave. Someone else who had an actual brain to figure out how to solve problems. Felix’s brain couldn’t be trusted- not when it came to self-preservation. His choice of Vortex as a friend made that clear enough. That and his inability to spot anything wrong with the bulging lump on the wall. Vortex had a mind, he was able to think despite being dead afterall, but his brain had been dragged and cleaned out of his current head ages ago. Shattered skull and all.  

Ambulon, despite getting very chatty when he had first woken up, still had a skull in perfect condition. He wasn’t even bruised (probably) when Vortex re-sedated him and tied him to the wall, and covered him with the sleeping bag. He’d even managed to duct tape the jumpy lab rat’s mouth closed without blocking his other airways. That took skill. Absently, Vortex wondered if Felix would be impressed by his handiwork. Felix hadn’t been around when Vortex first came online- after dying that was. Didn't know how difficult this kind of precision could be. Hadn’t been around when Vortex was still figuring out how to move his new “body.” Some of the casualties he’d caused back then had been accidents. Sort of. Accidents he’d, unbeknownst to his victims and everyone else who’d thought he was gone, reveled in. And then replicated. Again. And again. Repeating until he was capable of the same intentional blood spilling he had been capable of before. Like a baby murderer, relearning how to walk and talk- and stab people in the guts.

Killing was like breathing to Vortex. Was like laughter, and smiling. It was really quite kind of him to have not killed Ambulon. He was Felix’s friend though, and had enough potential to be fun and useful- not to mention he’d been running from Pharma. Vortex might not know a lot about Ambulon, but he wasn’t about to do Pharma’s dirty work for him. Beyond that…Ambulon’s drift connection allowed Vortex to feel what Felix felt like. As an organic. With a living body. Had allowed him to feel what it felt like to hold his hand. To hold him as he slept, safe and sound. Vortex could repay that by not killing or hurting Ambulon too much. Wouldn’t stop him from spooking him as much as he pleased, but…he was grateful, in a way. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to experience. It was part of why Vortex had stuck him to the wall instead of back in bed with Felix. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure what to think or feel about it, and frankly didn’t want to right now. And he didn’t want to share the feeling either. Felix was his, and that’s what mattered. Ambulon was Felix’s friend, and they, he, Vortex, could figure out what that meant later.  

Felix, for his part, had fallen back asleep, slumped in his pilot’s seat. Ambulon could wait until he woke up again. Vortex used some cabling to grab the remaining sleeping bag, then wrapped it around Felix and the chair- cocooning him cozily and tying him to the chair simultaneously. He toyed with the thought of dangling his old suit in front of Felix’s head so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up… but he decided against it in the end. He liked the thought of punishing Felix if he tried to grab and put it on, but he knew he wouldn’t. There had been such a reverence in the way Felix stared at the suit that Vortex had once worn. An unspoken want in the way he caressed Vortex’s name stitched over the right breast of the suit. An unspoken want that made Vortex want him to wear it. Even without punishing him for it, just to have his name on him…he couldn’t stitch it onto his chest, not directly- Felix was too squishy for that, and Vortex wasn’t delicate enough with a blade on his own to do it without killing his prize. If he could have his name on him though, if Felix put it on by choice-  

Vortex hummed thoughtfully. The notion was intoxicating. Invigorating. Carefully adding more cabling to secure Felix to the chair and their new resident lab rat to the wall, Vortex got up and started walking. Felix had only just recently removed whatever Pharma had attached to his leg, and if it had been a tracker, then they didn’t want to stay here for long.

Maybe he could find some monsters to kill, something to take the edge off his currently stronger-than-usual bloodlust. Maybe find the ones Felix had once considered the most likely to be edible. Have Ambulon cook it and test it, see if it worked.

He hummed some more, looking forward to getting his gears bloody again. He was going to go kill some monsters, wouldn’t be returning to base, and would have Felix with him the whole time. Yes, today was going to be a good day.  

[mariamegale]

Alexey Luchin, former Ice Pick Lodge employee, has commented to support the allegations against Dybowski, giving more insight and making additional accusations regarding grooming, physical and emotional abuse.

One of the most noteworthy things is his claims about Dybowski's current relationship with IPL. According to Luchin, Dybowski has not cut any ties with IPL or vice versa, and is only claiming that to avoid alimony payments:

Nikolay formally removed himself from the company (IPL) in a legal sense, in order to avoid paying adequate alimony. The payments on the screenshots are as low as 100$, which isn't nearly enough. [...] He's still working, the maneur [sic] is only to avoid alimony. Though I must say, these days the team is "carrying" him mostly. New Ice-Pick Lodge is great, there are lots of motivated people who gre up on old Ice-Pick games and are doing their very best!

Full comment thread here.

I will also post his comments below, for those who may not have or wish to visit Reddit. Special thanks to user Winterlings for asking follow-up questions, and of course a massive applause to Luchin for being willing to share this under his own name.

As a former colleague (I worked on Pathologic 1, The Void, Cargo, and a bit of uncredited work on Pathologic 2), I am sad to confirm, that this is most likely true. There is a link to follow the ongoing court considering the child alimony payments, and it looks like there will be another one, considering recent occusations. (As link to Russian websites are banned, see original source in the mod comment. You will need a VPN to go further down the first link in the post to see the court progress, or use google translate on that link to bypass the need for VPNs) I know Nikolay well, from at least 2006, and unfortunatelly his "misbehaviours" have been an open secret for a long time, on which I didn't comment for two reasons. One - he is not the studio, and isn't involved much in development since The Void - do NOT take out your anger on the talanted and good people working of Pathologic 3. Second - I've been kind of a coward, until I've learnt in 2018 or so, that a girlfriend of mine was also groomed by him, while we were still dating, and since then I broke all ties with Nikolay. He has been a raging, violent and erratic alcoholic, a sociopath and a pathological liar all these years. I personally know at least 10 people who he harmed directly in relation to public accusations (but it's their stories to tell, not mine). He is a manipulative sociopath, that is very good with words, another reason why these stories only surfaced now. The reason I'm speaking up right now is because I figured that after the last ephebophilia and grooming accusations, that cost him his job as a univercity teacher, and danger of going to court, he would change his ways. But things have gotten worse and more rotten since then. There isn't a reliable "reputation institution" in Russian gamedev, but it must start at some point. I believe the best path for Nikolay would be to leave Ice-Pick Lodge to not tarnish their reputation with his own fuckups, and leave the current studio to work as is - they're doing a great job on Pathologic 3, and they once again should NOT be harrassed for a single person's misdeeds.

When asked about identity verification:

I'm easily googlable by my handle, my name is Alexey "The LxR" Luchin. Though my work is uncredited on both Pathologics ironically, but also I'm falsely credited on Knock-Knock, which I haven't worked on. Anyhow, it'll be easy to find me in the credits for The Void and Cargo and by traces of my active participation in building the early game communities on the forums. :) Also possibly another colleague of mine in this thread may verify that it is indeed me, though I'd understand if they wish to remain anonymous.

Whether or not we as a community should hold IPL as a company responsible for this in some way, or go through with a financial boycott, I am leaning more and more towards at the very least requiring some kind of statement. Not only because of what Dybowski has done in his personal life, although that's more than bad enough, but because this crosses the line into actively having an impact on the dev team, the games, and in turn the community. I want to be able to know that this is something they take seriously and that Dybowski is gone, before I give them more money. But that is just my stance, and any nuanced take is of course welcome.

[mashounen2003]

I'm a bit surprised that Sonic acting differently on different media is still a topic of discussion. Like... This detail @mama-qwerty pointed out:

"The movie-verse is a separate universe from other media (I take all Sonic media as their own unique universes) and these versions aren't going to be exactly like the others."

This is already SEGA's official stance regarding the status of the Sonic series' multiverse and all the non-videogame branches of the franchise. It's been since their official Twitter account posted "Everything is canon" at least, even though everyone laughed at that tweet and thought it was just another pathetic attempt at modern humour from them.

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I suppose some fans' negative reaction to Sonic being "cringe" and actually quoting and referencing pop culture in the live-action movies is partly due to how Sonic was written in the videogames back in the 2010s, during the Pontac & Graff era. That was a time when SEGA saw a vocal minority of Sonic fans mocking their own "favourite" franchise on the Internet, spreading cheap memes and referring to the Sonic series as "cringe", and apparently decided they had to cater to them; this resulted in several Sonic videogames filled with low-effort comedy, easier to turn into memes, along with SEGA themselves using the Sonic series's brand Twitter account to basically mock their own flagship IP before the Internet even had the chance to do that first. A large portion of the fandom still doesn't remember those years fondly, and I'd not be surprised if they saw Sonic in the movies acting like that and it reminded them of wonderful gems such as "Baldy McNosehair" and "Green Hill is looking more like Sand Hill these days", even if expressing himself like this was actually in-character for Sonic.

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Anyway... Everything explained and pointed out by everyone else throughout this post could also apply to how I treat the old North-American canon from the Sonic SatAM cartoon and the Archie comic.

The Sonic from that continuity also lived a very different life compared to his counterparts in the videogames and the live-action movies: Robotnik had another modus operandi and started ruining everyone else's lives much earlier, which led to Sonic having to spend his childhood and early teenage years as a guerrilla fighter; Sonic also met Tails and a bunch of other friends when he was still 4 or 5 years old, which led to him already having some sort of family and having different priorities in mind. Besides, I tend to see the Sonic from the SatAM cartoon as a little bit younger than the Sonic from the videogames (only one year younger, though).

With all this, it's to be expected for this character's personality to change and evolve differently compared to its videogame version or any other version, and it'd not be surprising that this Sonic still has things to learn before becoming a character more similar to the more experienced, wiser, more emotionally intelligent Sonic we got in, say, the games of the Storybook Saga.

Something similar could be applied to Sonic in the British comic too. His life also goes down a separate path; the Robotnik of his universe was initially a good person and someone close to Sonic, which turns the entire rivalry between them into something deeply personal, which hurts even more; to top it off, Chaos energy in the British comic's universe works in a very different way that forces Sonic to avoid using it at all but also leads to him being this grumpy jerk who hates his life and keeps fighting for what's right but probably does it out of spite more than anything else.

I think one of the reasons Movie Sonic seems really cringe-y sometimes is not because he's doing or saying stuff that's unusual for Sonic's character in general, but that he's doing his normal shtick while referencing real world pop culture.

It's like when your friends from summer camp meet your school mates and suddenly all these very separate and distinct inside jokes start to intermingle. Sonic has always had his own world with its own culture that we've partaken in separate from our own world and its culture. So, yeah, it feels awkward for Movie Sonic to reference movies and television that we perceive as separate from his world.

"You're my Dad! You're not supposed to know what dabbing is!!"

I agree that it's a bit heavy handed and forced sometimes. (I still don't like the Winter Soldier line in 2; personal preference) But, Movie Sonic is not really behaving that different from other variations of Sonic. He's just referencing things I think many of us feel he shouldn't know about it XD

[marzipanandminutiae]

question regarding your recent Baby It's Cold Outside post about like the man's reputation being fine if it got out they had premarital sex. if they were like, known to be seeing each other, would the judgement on the woman be as harsh? i know courtship, so to speak, was pretty different back in the 50s but it's also still "well if they're aiming to marry anyway"

Oh that's a really interesting question

so, yes, humans have always been human and humans don't always wait until marriage. people ABSOLUTELY had premarital sex in the 1950s. that being said, society was very very set on the idea that women be virgins at least until their engagement

an engaged couple could get away with a lot more as long as the bride wasn't visibly pregnant at the altar and the math worked out for Consummation Post-Engagement. people would still act as if she was a virgin, and living together was out of the question until the actual wedding, but if they knew sex had occurred they'd probably turn a blind eye. however, if you were only dating, you were supposed to at least not let anyone find out that you'd gone further than maaaaaybe open-mouthed kissing

it's not that people didn't know it happened. they absolutely did. there's a scene in Shirley Jackson's 1951 novel Hangsaman where college girls ruthlessly haze freshmen by asking if they're virgins (implied to be based on her own college experience even earlier in the 1930s). also, you know...the song exists and the audience would have known the subtext. they weren't stupid, after all

they just sort of tried to pretend it didn't, among Polite SocietyTM. and if an unengaged woman was publicly known or strongly suspected to not be a virgin, her reputation would be ruined- people would stop inviting her to spend time with them, her family might withdraw support- the woman in the song is implied to live with her parents and spinster aunt -and if she lived in a conservative enough community, there's even a chance she could get rejected from jobs, or fired (they wouldn't cite that as the reason, of course; they'd make up something else or give a nebulous answer about her not being "a good fit" or whatever)

obviously this varied culturally. a woman with limited family contacts who worked in the entertainment industry or some artistic job in New York City or something would have much less pressure to remain ostensibly a virgin until marriage. but overall, yes, judgment could be quite harsh if word got out. men weren't supposed to sleep around either, but it would be more of a "well, he's not very nice" than a life-ruining situation, in terms of disapproval (that was reserved for if he was gay)

hence the need for an excuse like "the weather was so bad that it would have been dangerous for me to come home! I slept on the sofa and not a thing happened; I'm not that kind of girl!"

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . laundry machines — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, poor editing, inexperienced!reader(dating-wise) so sort of shy!reader too, mentions of madison & resulting guilt, implied later seasons sam, kissing, 1.7K words. requested !

summary : you're new to being in a relationship, but sam finds it endearing and is happy to take things slow.

some days are smooth and seamless and like an actual dream come true. others are clumsy, awkward, and make you shy away from being perceived at all. it’s just that this is all quite new to you, and you’re very unsure how to navigate being in a relationship, especially with someone so handsome and lovely. no one’s told you what’s allowed and what isn’t, how you should be acting, what an appropriate response is to the sweet things he does to you.

this all makes you easily flustered, often embarrassed, and yes, you’ll admit it, a bit shy at times. he’s just so tall and steady and you know he’s done this all before, even if the last time he was in a long term relationship was nearly a decade ago. and you’re not even that far from him in regards to age, but you’re somehow so much more lost than he is. it’s nice, because he’s more than willing to take the lead on things, to guide you through it. but sometimes that reminds you of your inexperience, and it sort of makes you wish that you could be a bit better for sam. it almost makes you feel like you’re forcing him to do all the work.

alternatively, sam’s own narrative regarding your inexperience is one of deep fondness, and even a bit of relief. he himself can be awkward and shy, even now and after all he’s been through, but with you, he gets to be the one who’s sure on his feet and smooth and a little easy. secretly, he’s still remembering and figuring out how to do this all. but the little things come to him comfortably enough that, to you, he seems entirely confident and effortless.

“sam?” you call to him from your bedroom. he’s sitting in the living room of your little apartment, content with a cup of tea you’ve made for him. “is it alright if i wash your jacket with my things, too?” 

“of course,” he calls back, his voice at its normal level of sweet and kind. you don’t see the huge, endeared grin on his face. he’s not sure why it wouldn’t be alright to wash his jacket with your things. it’s certainly the most logical thing to do, and it’s not as if he’d mind one bit. actually, he likes the idea of his clothes with yours, spinning around and getting tangled together in the washing machine. it’s domestic, soft, and intimate in a simple way. maybe that’s why you asked, he wonders; intimacy makes you a bit timid at times. 

with that, his jacket is placed inside your laundry basket. it’s dirty from a hunt. sam wanted to stop by your apartment first thing when it was over by mid morning and he wasn’t too far away. he thinks he flustered you, though, because he forgot to text beforehand. but, you also looked very happy to see him, so he’s sure it’s okay. you had melted right into his kiss, though your hands remained chastely resting on his elbows as he sweetly cupped your face. 

now, you’re walking out of the bedroom with your laundry, met with a fond look from sam on the couch. 

“i’ll be right back. i just need to get this done by tonight,” you explain as you head to the door to head down to the washing machine in the building’s basement.

“i’ll come with you,” sam says, standing, still wearing his pretty smile. he imagines he’ll have to leave in a few hours, and he’d like to spend every moment until then with you if you’ll let him.

“there’s no need, i’ll only be gone a minute,” you say, only because you don’t want to make him get up and walk down, then back up all those stairs.

his long legs take him to the door in less than a few seconds anyway. “i want to,” he says simply, and you feel silly that it sends your heart pumping extra hard.

“if you insist,” you smile, taking it in stride. sam notices and resists the urge to just sweep you up in his arms and kiss you for a long while. he hasn’t kissed you again since he arrived, but he doesn’t think you’d have as much ease dealing with that without being greatly flustered. he’d probably like to see that, but he’s not a cruel man. you’d argue that he’s the gentlest of them all. he follows you down the stairs because you refuse to let him carry the laundry basket. he’s already silently promising he’ll carry it upstairs once it’s all washed and dried. he’ll help you fold it too, if you’ll let him. he’s not sure if you’ll be alright with him catching a glimpse or two at your underwear. 

that makes him think about the time he was about twenty three and madison not-so-subtly showed off her panties to him while folding her laundry on the first day they’d met. she’s a sad memory. a guilty one, too. but he has you in front of him, softly chattering about what you did this morning, and he lets her be a nice memory for today. you give him plenty of nice memories, and he thinks about how he likes the way the two of you take things slow.

you don’t seem to think about the fact that sam can see what you’re putting in the washing machine, and he finds it cute, for no particular reason. he finds it cute when you’re nervous about something you needn’t be or when you aren’t about something he predicted you might. maybe he just finds everything about you cute.

he leans against the drying machine and watches happily as you put the washer to the right settings and start the cycle. 

“so,” you say, turning your head to look at him, “do you have–” you’re cut off by the loud rush of water in the machine as it begins soaking your clothes—and his jacket—and you shake your head because you momentarily forgot just how loud it is. it’s the loudest washing machine you’ve ever used, you told him once. he himself is almost startled by it; you really weren’t kidding. he gives a little laugh and you can’t help but laugh a bit too. neither of you have to say anything to agree to go back upstairs.

he holds the basement door open for you and one of his big hands that you’re secretly so fond of hovers by the small of your back as you pass him and start up the stairs. only you think it’s a secret. he can tell how much you like to hold hands and fiddle with his fingers. you stare sometimes, too, but he’d never tell you that for fear of rendering you too flustered to function properly for the rest of the night.

“you were saying?” he says, encouraging you to continue now that he can actually hear you.

you can’t tell if it’s a blessing or not that he’s asked you to keep going while walking up the stairs. you sort of wanted to be watching his face when you asked, but you’re also thinking you might be grateful that you won’t in case it helps you feel less nervous. he’s just so handsome and sincere and lovely that it makes you nervous. you don’t know how to be casual around him. everything just feels so special and new and nerve-wracking.

“i was just wondering if you had another case lined up for tomorrow,” you tell him, hoping that you’re succeeding in sounding laid-back like you wish you could be. once again, he thinks it’s sweet you don’t always know how to act around him. “or, you know, anything like that,” you add on. you don’t want to ask without knowing if he has somewhere to be in the morning.

sam feels a spark of hope and a little bit of youthful giddiness that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time before you. “i don’t,” he says simply, “i don’t have anything tomorrow.”

you chew lightly on the inside of your cheek, considering your options. there’s still another flight and a half of stairs until you get to your floor and you’re thinking, despite how nervous it makes you, you really would like to be facing him as you ask. it’d be obvious and awkward if you wait until you’re back in your apartment, right? but it’s silly to ask in a stairwell, you think.

then you realize you're probably overthinking it. maybe neither of those things are true. maybe it doesn’t matter at all how you ask, so long as you do it. you know he’ll say yes, you know he’ll like the idea of it, and you’re pretty sure he’ll like the fact that you’re the one to bring it up first. and you’re pretty confident that you love him and that he really, truly cares about you too. that gives you a burst of confidence.

you turn around, right on the steps with your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and a little, likely nervous looking smile on your lips. “do you want to sleep over tonight?” you ask, somehow able to make yourself sound more sure of things than you feel.

his lips curl into a happy, almost proud smile. it’s very obvious how much he adores you. all you have to do is look at him and see the way his adoration pools in his eyes and his dimples and shows in the lightness of his eyebrows and the showing of his front teeth. his hands that you love so much drift up to hold your waist, moving slowly so you can anticipate it. the touch still makes you draw in a steadying breath.

“i would love to. are you sure that’s alright with you?” he says. he’s trying to sound casual too, but it comes out more reverent than anything else. 

your smile isn’t so nervous now. “mhmm,” you hum. “i’m sure.” this time, you really are sure. though, you still have to grip his shoulders for support when he kisses you, right in the stairway like he’d probably kiss you anywhere.

[spanktony]

“LEFTOVERS” - lee doona.

summary: lee doona was so full of herself and you hated it. until, you understood.

words: 4.2k +

warnings: 18+ g!p reader, p in v, oral (d receiving), doona’s kinda an ass but not really because she’s wifey, and i think that’s all.

notes: once request open back up more doona requests guys 🙏🙏🙏🙏 she’s so underrated

navigation. request.

you had never met someone so full of themselves; well, that was up until the moment you had your first interaction with doona. you had just finished lacing up your sneakers, your compression shirt hugging your torso and your workout pants snug and comfortable.

the day was still cool, perfect for a run, and you were looking forward to clearing your head after a long day of work.

being a server was no joke.

you popped your headphones into your ears, selecting your playlist before closing and locking the main entrance door behind you, completely oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you from across the courtyard.

it was a beautiful evening, and you smiled as you started singing, off-key but nonetheless singing, while you warmed up and stretched before your run. you didn't notice the figure sitting nearby until you were almost past them.

doona.

she was sitting on the brick fence that surrounded an old tree, one leg crossed over the other, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. the smoke swirled lazily around her, and she exhaled slowly, watching you with a bored, detached look as you bopped your head to the music in your headphones.

you were in your own little world, head down, and pounding music that drowned out everything except for your own thoughts.

but then, just as you were getting into a good groove, doona stood up abruptly, taking a drag from her cigarette.

without missing a beat, she stepped directly into your path, her body blocking your way.

you came to a halt, pulling your headphones down to your neck.

"excuse me," you said, raising an eyebrow, already feeling the irritation start to build. you hadn't been expecting anyone to stand in your way, let alone her.

doona regarded you coolly, the smoke curling from her lips as she blew out a cloud and gave you a pointed look. "what's your deal?"

you blinked, confused, your jaw slightly dropping. "what?"

doona took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. the calm, almost calculating look on her face made you feel even more confused.

"you've been staring at me for weeks," she said, her voice laced with something you couldn't quite place. was it annoyance? amusement? "every time you run by, you look up at my apartment. i see you. you're watching me."

you blinked again, the irritation from before quickly turning into bewilderment. "what? i'm not—what are you talking about?"

doona's expression didn't soften. she flicked the ash off her cigarette, still maintaining that intense gaze. "don't act like you haven't noticed me. you've been eyeing me from across the courtyard every day, practically tracking my every move. and now you're singing my songs like some kind of weird obsession. what's your deal, stalker?"

a small laugh escaped you, almost out of reflex. "are you serious? i've just been doing my thing—i'm not stalking anyone."

doona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. for a moment, there was a pause between you two, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as your confusion started to shift into something else.

"yeah, right." she took another drag, blowing the smoke into your face, causing you to close your eyes and cough slightly. your jaw tightened at the action, but you still tried to keep your cool. the last thing you wanted was to give her any kind of satisfaction.

doona tilted her head to the side; the two of you studied each other intently, the tension thickening between you as the seconds dragged on. her gaze was sharp, predatory even, and her lips twitched into a small smirk.

you, on the other hand, were trying your hardest not to show how irritated you were. it wasn't like you cared that she thought you were some sort of stalker. in fact, you were far more interested in getting away from this confrontation and finishing your run.

but as you stared back at her, you couldn't help but feel... curious. who was this woman? why was she so damn confident and dismissive?

finally, you exhaled sharply, pulling your shoulders back when it finally hit you. she was lee doona, from dream sweet!

your confusion morphed into a mix of surprise and disinterest. you weren't particularly impressed by celebrity status, and honestly, you couldn't care less who she was. all you cared about was getting back to your routine and putting as much distance between you and this strange encounter as possible.

you stared at her for a beat longer, trying to mask the faint surprise flickering across your face. doona's eyes held an intense gaze, scanning you almost like a puzzle to be solved.

but when you didn't immediately react the way she expected, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and she flicked the cigarette again, sending more ash into the wind.

"so, what?" you said, cutting through the silence with a firm tone, finally over the awkwardness. "you're accusing me of stalking you because i run by and look up at the apartments? that's a stretch."

doona narrowed her eyes, seemingly a bit put off by your nonchalant attitude. she opened her mouth, but something in your demeanor stopped her. maybe it was the fact that you weren't fawning over her or hanging on her every word like people usually did.

maybe it was the confusion you still had about her unexpected behavior. she seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time in the conversation.

her voice, when it came out, was slightly less accusatory, but no less annoyed. "it's not just about running by, alright? it's the way you look at me. like you're always waiting for something."

you paused, taking a moment to process her words. you tried to read her, but she had the same expression as before, guarded and defensive. her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp.

was she really this caught up in a casual interaction with someone she thought was obsessed with her?

"i'm not 'waiting' for anything," you replied before brushing past her, putting your headphones back in, and jogging out of the courtyard towards the street.

over the next week, doona's presence became hard to ignore. she had a way of appearing at just the right moment—whether it was passing you in the hallway or casually lounging on her balcony as you stepped out for air.

her presence was like a constant shadow, always hovering just out of reach but never quite out of mind. you couldn't deny that her mysterious aura intrigued you, but you weren't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

each time you crossed paths, whether she was perched on the balcony with a cigarette or standing in the doorway as you passed by, she had that same intense, unreadable gaze. it was like she was trying to figure you out, but at the same time, she never seemed to want to make the first move.

you, however, had other things on your mind—your routine, your runs, the work that needed to get done. doona wasn't a part of that, no matter how much she seemed to want to be. you kept your head down, trying to block out the distraction that was her presence.

but one day, when you returned home after work, still dressed in dress pants and a black button-up shirt, you saw doona sitting outside.

you hesitated for a second, unsure if she'd approach or if you should just keep walking. but before you could make up your mind, she called out to you.

"hey."

you stopped, caught off guard by the lack of confrontation this time. she wasn't blocking your path or looking at you like you were some strange specimen. she was just... there. waiting.

"are you going to keep ignoring me, or do you actually want to talk?" her tone wasn't harsh this time, just curious.

for a moment, you felt a flash of irritation. who did she think she was, acting like she had the right to dictate when you should talk to her? you had enough of these mind games. you glanced over at her, seeing her kicking her feet outwards like a child.

she wasn't smoking this time, and she wasn't giving you that intimidating, piercing stare either. instead, her eyes were warm, and there was a small, inviting smile on her face.

something in your stomach twisted slightly, but you managed to hold yourself together. you stepped forward, crossing your arms, but your stance was more relaxed now, less defensive than before. "what's this about, doona?"

she leaned back against the fence, leaning back on her arms and tilting her head slightly. "i don't know. maybe i was wrong about you."

"wrong about me?" you repeated, confused. "what do you mean?"

doona let out a sigh, her gaze flicking down to the ground before meeting yours again. "i misjudged you. thought you were... obsessed or something."

a soft chuckle escaped you, and you raised an eyebrow, still unsure if you were understanding correctly. "and now?"

her stomach growled audibly before she could answer; doona's eyes flicked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair, clearly embarrassed.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her. "lucky for you, i've got leftovers from work," you said, tapping the backpack you had slung over your shoulder, which contained a portion of the evening's meals from your restaurant job.

"leftovers?" doona raised an eyebrow. "what, you think i look like i'm starving?"

"maybe not starving," you said, "but it's not like you're going to turn down free food." you held out the bag, shaking it slightly, almost teasing her.

she eyed it for a moment, then pushed herself off the fence, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate step. "you're lucky you're offering," she muttered, taking the bag from you with a slight smirk. "i wasn't going to beg for your charity."

"right," you said, shaking your head. "just take it, doona."

for a second, she seemed to hesitate, as if weighing whether to offer a witty remark, but instead she just muttered a quick thanks, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bag.

the next evening, when you returned from work again, there she was, sitting by the same spot, her eyes trained on her feet. she didn't seem to notice your approach until your foot scraped against the concrete.

this time, she didn't wait for you to say anything. the moment she saw you, she stood up and walked toward you, eyes gleaming.

"got any leftovers today?" she asked, cutting straight to the point.

you were taken aback for a moment. had she really come just for food? "still hungry, huh?" you asked, grinning despite yourself.

"very," she replied, with that same smirk you were starting to recognize all too well.

you shrugged, reaching for your backpack and pulling out another container. "here, take it."

days passed, and each night when you came home, doona was there, waiting for more of your leftovers. her presence had become a routine, like a weird, unspoken agreement between the two of you. you'd offer the food, she'd take it with little fanfare, and sometimes, if you were lucky, she'd stay for a little conversation.

one evening, your manager practically forced you to stay late, almost two hours after your shift had ended. when you finally arrived home, exhausted and hungry, doona wasn't waiting for you. it was late, so you don't know why you would expect her to be there.

but as you made your way up the stairs and towards your apartment, you noticed something odd. a faint sound—footsteps. someone moving quickly, almost purposefully. you paused, glancing around.

there she was.

doona stood at the foot of your building, her eyes scanning the space like she was looking for something—or someone. her gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view, and for the briefest of moments, there was something almost sheepish in her expression.

you stopped in your tracks, the exhaustion from your late shift quickly replaced by a flicker of amusement. "i didn't think you'd be waiting tonight," you said, adjusting the strap of your backpack, almost expecting her to snap back with some witty retort.

she didn't. instead, she bit her lip, her eyes darting around as if unsure of herself. "i thought you might have forgotten," she said with a small shrug.

you blinked, the words catching you off guard. "forgot?"

"yeah." she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "the food. i've... been getting used to it."

a weird, inexplicable tug in your chest made you pause.

"i haven't forgotten," you replied, your tone a little lighter. "i just got stuck at work longer than usual. but i brought something for you."

you opened your bag; instead, it wasn't the usual takeout you usually brought her. instead, you pulled out a small cake—chocolate with rich frosting and a simple "happy birthday" written on top in delicate icing.

doona blinked in surprise, her eyes widening a little. "what... is this?"

"it's your birthday, isn't it?" you asked with a small, teasing smile. "i figured you'd appreciate something sweet, instead of leftovers for once."

she stared at the cake for a long moment, not even noticing you turning away and walking upstairs toward your bedroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

doona lingered by the doorway, still staring at the cake. something about the gesture touched her, and her mind raced with questions, but none of them would formulate into coherent words.

after a long, thoughtful pause, she made her way up the stairs with the cake in her hand. when she knocked on your door, you opened it, already anticipating her arrival. you weren't surprised to see her standing there, her expression unreadable as she walked past you, heading straight for your bed and setting the cake down on your desk.

you raised an eyebrow as she made herself at home, flopping down on your bed without a care in the world. it was a little jarring, considering how much she had thrown off the idea of getting close to you just a few weeks ago. but there she was, casually reclining on your bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you stood by the door, not quite sure what to say. "you just walked in without even asking?"

she shrugged, her eyes not leaving yours. "it's not like you're going to stop me."

"what makes you so sure?"

"you wouldn't have let me in otherwise."

that was a fair point. you sighed, moving to unbutton your work shirt, but instead of heading to your closet, you stayed near the door, keeping a safe distance from her. "what do you want?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"i just wanted to see if you missed me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly soft, though laced with that playful challenge. her gaze held yours, and for a second, you could have sworn there was a hint of affection in her expression.

you swallowed, breaking the gaze and looking away. you didn't want her to catch the flush creeping across your cheeks.

doona smirked, watching the way your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, the way you tried so hard not to show any sign of vulnerability. you chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in your laugh.

"miss you?" you took a few steps further into the room but kept your distance, not wanting to make the moment feel too awkward. "you've been showing up for leftovers, and now you're asking if i miss you?"

doona raised an eyebrow, which dropped when she let out a sigh, glancing around your room. it was her first time ever being up here. "you looked for me tonight," she muttered. "i didn't think you cared if i was around or not."

you paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt exposed, like she had somehow cracked through the barriers you'd carefully put up around your thoughts and emotions. you'd been so intent on brushing her off, pretending that her presence didn't matter, that you hadn't realized how much she'd started to occupy your mind.

"i didn't look for you," you said quickly, though you weren't entirely sure if you believed it yourself. "i just—" you rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes, not wanting to meet hers. you took a deep breath, forgetting about taking off your work clothes and instead focused on trying to maintain your composure.

doona's gaze softened slightly as she watched your struggle to keep your cool. she could tell you were trying to downplay the shift in your emotions, but it wasn't working. there was a crack in your facade, and she was starting to notice it.

"right," she said, her voice dropping into something softer, more teasing than before.

you shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of your neck again as your eyes flicked to the cake you had given her earlier. for some reason, the sweetness of the gesture now felt like it was hanging over both of you, making everything feel more real, more vulnerable. you had never meant for this to become more than just a simple exchange. leftovers. a casual moment. yet here she was, in your room, in your personal space, making things feel... complicated.

"i didn't expect you to be here," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent but failing. "i didn't think you'd care if i gave you a cake or not."

doona let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. "you really are bad at this, aren't you?"

the way she said it caught you off guard. there was something affectionate in her tone, something beyond just teasing. you had never thought she would soften up like this, not after all the weird tension that had built up between you two. but there it was.

you swallowed, still not quite sure how to handle the shift in the air. it was no longer about leftovers, no longer about the small interactions. she was making you confront something you hadn't expected to feel—maybe even something you hadn't wanted to feel.

"doona..." you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"stop overthinking it," she said with a small, half-smile. "i'm not here to make you uncomfortable. not really. i just... want to see how far you'll go."

"go where?" you asked, still confused but unable to stop the questions from rising in your chest. "what do you want from me?"

she sat up from your bed, the air between you two thickening with every word. "i just want to know if you're more than the girl who gives me leftovers. are you?"

her gaze was intense now, and her words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. you didn't have an answer, and you didn't know what she was hoping for. you just knew that whatever this was—whatever you two were turning into—it was no longer as simple as it had been when she first asked for leftovers.

she stood up from your bed, her hands falling to the buttons of your shirt, her eyes never leaving yours. you felt the soft cotton of your shirt, now being unbuttoned by her, slipping off your shoulders as she leaned in closer.

her fingers traced along the lines of your collarbones, slowly, gently, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. it was such a gentle touch, such a light caress, yet you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat, the way your heart skipped a beat.

she tilted her head slightly, her smile growing as she watched you, the intensity of her gaze making it clear that she was enjoying this. enjoying seeing you get flustered, enjoying seeing you react to her touch.

and then, her hand moved to your hip, and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips against yours.

you could feel your pulse quicken as the kiss deepened, her fingers digging into your hip, her other hand reaching up and tangling in your hair, tugging slightly. as she pulled you closer, you could feel her body pressing against yours, her breath mingling with yours, your mind going blank as her tongue swiped over your lips, tasting, teasing.

you hadn't expected this—hell, you didn't even know if you were ready for it. but doona wasn't giving you a chance to overthink. she was just there, and all you could do was follow her lead.

when the kiss broke, you found yourself looking into her eyes. they were dark and full of want and something else, too. you swallowed, feeling your stomach twist with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

doona leaned in again; this time you didn't hesitate, kissing back with the same intensity and hunger she was pouring into you, her lips soft and insistent against yours, while her arms dangled around your neck.

the kiss deepened again, your hands fell to her waist, and doona began walking backwards; you followed her like a puppy on a leash, falling on top of her as her back hit your bed. her eyes were half-closed, but they were still looking at you. she ran her hands up and down your sides, caressing you. her touch was light, but you felt it go right through you. doona smiled up at you, her hands going to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up, her fingers grazing your skin as she pulled the material up over your head.

her hands fell to your core, fingers trailing against your stomach. her touch was making you shiver, sending waves of pleasure through you.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, focusing on her touch, looking down to see a singular finger moving along the top of your pants, tracing the outline of your belt, teasing. she was taking her time, exploring your body, watching and listening to your reactions. it was making you painfully hard, and you wanted nothing more than to have her fingers wrap around you.

finally, doona moved her hands back up and unbuckled your belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it aside. then, she popped the button on your pants and lowered the zipper, sliding your jeans down, exposing your black boxers.

she was gazing at you, her pupils blown wide with lust. doona licked her lips. she was waiting for you to say something. but all you could do was nod and kiss her.

her tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound muffled by her lips. doona's hand was in the front of your boxers, rubbing your cock through the material, feeling how hard you were. your hands gripped the sheet beneath you, and you took in a sharp breath.

you let out a grunt as her hand moved under the waistband of your boxers, wrapping around your shaft, squeezing and stroking. "wait," you said, breaking the kiss. you pulled back a little and looked at her. "let me help you."

she bit her lip, nodding, letting go of your cock. you sat down on the bed, kicking your pants away, and watched as she slid off her own pants, her hips raising from the bed before lowering again.

doona had you in a spell, your eyes glued to her every movement; you wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on you. she was wearing a pair of black lace panties, which contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. your gaze lingered on her breasts, which were covered by a coordinating bra.

she lay back down, her hair fanning out on the pillow. you couldn't stop staring.

"see something you like?" she teased.

you nodded, crawling back on top of her, afraid that any words that left your mouth would make her change her mind.

instead, you kissed her again, one hand cupping her cheek, the other sliding behind her back, deftly unclasping her bra. you felt her body shiver as you slid the straps off her shoulders, and the garment fell away, exposing her breasts.

"you're so beautiful," you murmured. she smiled, pulling you closer.

you lowered your head and began kissing her neck, working your way down to her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipples, making them harden under your touch. the soft sounds of her moans only encouraged you further, along with the grip she had on your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

her hands tangled in your hair as she whispered, "don't stop."

you moved lower, kissing her stomach and then her thighs. anywhere your lips touched, she shivered with pleasure.

your fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them off her legs. you were staring at her now, more than ever, taking in her naked form, her body flushed and warm, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily, her eyes locked onto yours.

you moved forward, settling between her legs, spreading them open, your hands gripping her hips. "please," she whimpered. "i need you."

you pressed your face against her thigh, kissing it softly, your hands gripping her thighs firmly as you trailed kisses up towards her core. she arched her back, silently begging for more, her fingers tangling in your hair as she guided you closer to where she needed you most.

"stop being an ass," she whispered in frustration in her voice. "just give me what i want." you chuckled softly, then moved higher, your tongue finding her wet folds. her breath hitched, and her hand tightened in your hair, a low moan escaping her lips as you gave her exactly what she desired.

you lapped at her cunt, your tongue moving up and down her slit, tasting her. she was writhing beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her pulling at your hair so much it was starting to hurt. her moans grew louder, more desperate, "oh, god..." she moaned, her voice thick with arousal. "that feels so good."

you continued to lick her, your tongue sliding up and down her slit, teasing her, before you focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. she was panting now, her legs trying their hardest to trap your head between them as she bucked against your mouth.

"fuck... oh, fuck..." she was breathing hard, her moans increasing, her thighs squeezing tighter around your head. you knew she was about to cum, and you didn't want to disappoint her, so you quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking on it gently. she let out a loud gasp, her legs tightening around your head, her back arching as she came hard.

her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her as she rode out her pleasure. after a moment, her grip on you loosened, and she let out a long, content sigh.

you looked up at her, a smile on your lips, and she grinned back at you. "see," she said breathlessly. "i knew you could be a good girl." you wanted to roll your eyes and disregard the pet name, but your body's response was instantaneous, and you felt yourself grow twitch as the words escaped her lips.

you climbed up her body and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself on your lips. "do you want more?" you whispered against her lips, and she nodded. "i want you inside me."

you moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as you pulled off your boxers, revealing your cock, fully erect, glistening with precum. the dark-haired girl smiled seductively as she crawled towards you, straddling your lap and guiding you inside her with a moan of pleasure.

the sensation of being enveloped by her warmth was overwhelming, and you both moaned in unison when doona's hip began moving achingly slow. she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you were so lost in the moment that you could barely form a coherent thought.

your eyes left the sight of your member buried deep inside her to meet her intense gaze, your mouth agape and your hands gripping her hips tightly. "pretty," she muttered, her voice husky, kissing the outline of your jaw before trailing down your neck.

your mouth took in her breast, savoring the taste of her skin as she arched into your touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. she started riding you faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was better than any song she had ever sung.

"doona," you managed to gasp out, your hands gripped her waist tightly, your mouth falling against her shoulder, trying to contain yourself.

you didn't know what the two of you were going to be after this, if she would continue playing that stupid game she loved so much, if you could just stay as friends, or if you could somehow get closer, but for now, none of that mattered. all that mattered was her and her soft body.

her hands dug into your hair, and you buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent. her pussy felt so tight and wet, and you groaned against her neck, your teeth biting at her skin. she started moving faster, and you knew she was close. a loud whine left her throat, and her fingers tightened in your hair, yanking you back to look at her.

"y/n," she whined. "fuck, please. are you close?"

you nodded.

"fuck, baby. you feel so good. come with me, y/n. please." you reached down and circled her clit with your thumb, and her mouth dropped open, her head thrown back as her entire body tensed, her pussy tightening around your dick, pulling you over the edge with her. you groaned, pressing your face into her neck as your cum filled her.

she collapsed on top of you, and the two of you caught your breath.

[milonogiannis]

Since late August of 2022, Barry Topping and I have been working on a shoot ‘em up game called BIRDCAGE.

Now 2024 is wrapping up and – surprisingly – so is the production phase of BIRDCAGE. There’s still plenty of work to be done, but the game itself is all there, playable and asset complete.

Now we’re left with an ever-growing lernaean hydra list of other tasks to handle – emails, wider testing, stability, updating store presences, promotional stuff and in general, just trying to maximize the reach and polish of what we’ve made.

The final stretch of production (roughly the last 5 months?) was really fun. The game had matured enough that we just instinctively knew what would work and what wouldn’t.

We’d become comfortable enough with the tools we built and our process where we’d just be constantly in hyper mode. The game really came together in this final leg of development.

POLYGON BIRD, our studio name, and EXCEL Framework, the name given to the "shmup tools" we made for the game.

I was expecting ending full-on production on BC to be frustrating and depressing, but some switch flipped in my head and now all I want to do is email people about the game, optimize our Steam tags and figure out how to get this in people’s hands – and I’m finding that fun, at least for now. The game isn’t this ideal brainchild piece of art to me, suddenly. We did the work to make the thing, now it’s time the thing worked for us.

It surprises me how often I find myself thinking ridiculous things like “we need to activate our discord members” – but I’ll take this over the usual pit of despair I fall into after finishing a big project.

I guess this is what motivated me to write down these thoughts in the first place – I was bracing to be fully depressed and lost right about now, resenting the game and the time we spent on it. Maybe this will serve as a reminder that finishing a thing doesn’t have to feel so bad?

So now we’re kind of going back into uncharted waters – promoting, releasing, dealing with feedback, hotfixes and support. There’s going to be a lot of “learning on the job”, I guess, but I’m excited to see that aspect of game dev.

I’m really glad we were able to hit our goal of wrapping up this phase of BIRDCAGE as the year comes to a close – it makes it easy to look back on the past 2 years as a whole and see how much we’ve learned. I can’t wait for us to make another game, knowing what we know now.

There is still nothing to announce regarding the release of the game, but it still felt important to make note of this milestone.

For now, just know we’ve made a game and are working on getting it out there! We should have a lot more to say soon.

In the meantime, you can help us out by adding BIRDCAGE to your Steam wishlist.

Thanks for sticking around all these years.

Happy holidays!

-G

[acupofinkedblood]

Young B. Zuka x medic reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 • War is ruthless, you know it better than anyone else. And certainly thing just seems to be worse when it involves ‘Blackrock’ and ‘bloodshed’ in the same sentence. But nonetheless, you still have to follow your path as the military’s medic. You have grown used to taking care of the soldiers from said factor, staying up almost every single moment just to bring them back to life before sending them away to the battlefield with very few hopes that they will make it out unscathed again. It’s your job to keep them alive, to help them survive the whole thing before their demise falls onto their fate. To say it’s tiring is quite the understatement

• Yet in all that seriousness of violence and brutality, there is Zuka. To describe him, the first thing that pops up in your mind is definitely ‘unusually bright’. You don’t get to see a Blackrock soldier with too much of a personality quite often, so seeing Zuka is definitely a new experience. Maybe it did catch you off guard at some point

• There is something about him that you can’t understand just yet. He doesn’t strike you as the typical type of soldier you meet on a daily basis, but you feel like there is something more about this man. Zuka feels more alive than anyone you have come across in this forsaken factor — and surprisingly — in an unobnoxious way. It piques your curiosity, if you dare to admit that. You don’t know if you should see that as a positive or a negative thing anymore

• The first meeting between the two of you wasn’t actually a proper one, if you know what I mean. You were just minding your own business with the files and all before he just stormed into the infirmary while dragging two of his rookies, who looked like they had quite a fight going on earlier, then told you to patch those idiots up. It is your job after all, so you obliged. Deep inside you were probably wondering what the hell just happened? Should you put a ‘please inform the medic of your arrival’ sign out of the infirmary? Because you were pretty positive that Zuka almost made you have a heart attack because of his unexpected arrival bragging out of nowhere like that

• As you were dealing with the soldiers, you could feel Zuka staring behind your back for a good moment. You were used to being stared, mostly from patients who had nothing to do and did that out of boredom. Maybe sometime you got that not-so-welcoming attitude from certain people, but they usually kept it to themselves so you didn’t really comment on that. When you glanced back at him slightly, you saw that slight interest in his expression that was mixed with something else behind that flashy sunglasses. All you knew was that it wasn’t something ill, thankfully. The infirmary was rather quiet, only a few grunts or hisses from your current patients

• It was just a matter of time before he started to ramble on what actually happened before you could even ask: Basically those two idiots got into a fight together, and he had to break them apart so that they wouldn’t kill each other intentionally. He even made some playful remarks regarding the situation. You didn’t get to see people who were supposed to serve in the battlefield had that kind of relaxed demeanor most of the time, and you had to admit that they sounded more pleasant to deal with rather than a bunch of stone-cold guys. You could definitely work with these kind of people more often

• Then again, it was Zuka we were talking about. He wouldn’t let the chance of impressing anyone slipped away, especially you. Even in your first meet together, he just had to subtly mention some of his own achievements while he was at it. Full of himself, you already knew that. But on the other hand, it didn’t sound too bad coming out from him. You did engage with the conversation briefly with a few words of yourself, occasionally a few scoffs or chuckles too. Even when the two soldiers were bandaged up, Zuka almost seemed as if he wanted to stay a bit longer before returning to the camp. Then again, he was dragged back, so he bided you a good day until next time you met again

• That sums up your first brief interaction with him. And Zuka definitely keeps his words when just a day after that, he comes back to see you. Maybe asking you to deal with some minor damages with his physical condition after his work to make it not too obvious that he just wants to see you again. That is when he takes his chance to get to know you better without anyone under his command interrupting him. Truth be told, you might or might not see through him when his visits to you become more frequent. But hey, you do find his company to your liking, so you don’t complain about it

• It’s just the matter of times before Zuka starts to worm his way into your heart. This guy is so upfront about what he wants but also makes it secretive to a certain extent. It feels like he lets you know that he is pinning on you, but decides to act oblivious about it on purpose until you realize it. Most of his soldiers probably think that the two of you have something going on because of how he keeps looking out for you at any given moment before you even notice. Sure, there isn’t that much of space for love on the battlefield, but does Zuka give a damn about that? He will flip a coin with closed eyes to see how it will turn out, but then end up throwing the coin away into nowhere and claim that’s a sign for him to follow his heart

• Of course, he will use the excuse of him spending times with you as coincidences quite often if you’re asking him about it. He suddenly brags into your infirmary right on your shift? Oh he has this little wound that needs you to treat, and only you! You’re off to a break? What a surprise, he is taking a break too! You’re hungry and wants something but you can’t really go and get it? What is that on your desk- Oh it’s just Zuka doing you a favor! Okay the last one is a bit too crystal clear, but you get the idea of it

• You can rant your troubles to him as much as you want. Sometimes it’s funny due to some hilarious reasons of why someone has to see you, someone definitely broke their wrist while hula hooping before. But of course, there are times when it’s just exhaustingly bloody. Although he will have that ridiculously baffled expression on his face when you go into details of how you have to stitch a soldier up after his legs were blown into nowhere, he will still support you through your intense requirements for this jobs. Your stories do play an important part of him avoiding too awful danger ahead, imagining it after listening to you is definitely not a thing he should do when he is eating

• Believe me when I say Zuka is such a heartthrob in his prime. This man has the ultimate face card and muscle that will sure as hell swoon anyone he likes. With all due respect, this man is a hotshot and he is aware of it. You have your fair share of moments to check him out when bandaging him up, and that sight is definitely a feast to the eyes. But surprisingly, he isn’t a player like some thought he was. He just has good experiences based on observation of what is around him, maybe a bit of his own personal knowledge. But rest assured, he only has his eyes on you - both before and after the two of you are officially together. You, the one and only medic of a demon that he has fallen in love with

• Since Zuka is technically the typical type of heavy soldier who specializes in wide range combat — and by that I mean he literally explodes the living shit out of his enemies in the middle of being surrounded — injuries are expected from him. Although sure, it isn’t as serious as losing his head or whatever, but he isn’t invincible. Thankfully you’re there to nurse him back in good health, or else he might as well loose a limb, right? Then again, he will make it looks like it’s not that of a big deal when you try to get him to be more careful

• Although you have met more than just a few encounters with soldiers who think too highly of their ability than what they are actually capable of and end up staying inside the infirmary for weeks — and you expect Zuka to be another case of that with the level of cockiness he has for an attitude, you just can help but assume things because of that — he has proven you wrong on spot with his performance with only a few injuries that he claims to be, and I quote, ‘nothing for a darling like you to be worried about’. Well, there is a different between a rookie and an ambassador after all, you gotta give him that credit

• Yet that doesn’t change the fact that you have to grumble over how reckless he is while patching him up quite a lots of time though. You are probably one of the very few people that Zuka tolerate when having to stay still and listen to every single word involves his behavior. It’s comedic, to think that in a moment your leader is basically a monster on the battlefield, then the next thing you know is the medic is bossing him around with genuine care like a mother hen. You definitely earn his subordinates’ respect for that, since you have done the thing that no one else could

• Scars are the medals he wears with pride. Don’t judge him, he is still young and hasty, you should have seen that coming. Most of them are old scars from when he was still a rookie. Zuka doesn’t like talking about it since he still holds a personal grudge against his old mentor, that ruthless bastard made him go through hell and back with all those extreme methods of training. The first time you trace your finger against those old wounds, he can help but tensed up a bit, but then quickly sigh in relief afterwards because it’s just you. He won’t lie, he actually finds your touch to be soothing. And trust me, he won’t be shy when he ask for physical affection

• You know that he’s strong, right? Because that’s quite important in regards of what I’m about to tell you. Whenever this guy returns from his mission, especially a long one, the first thing he will ever do is to make his way right straight into your infirmary with a dramatic entrance as if he just returns to his spouse from a years long journey to the unknown on the ocean. It almost resembles that ‘Hello sailor!’ attitude when he just kicks the door open without second thought. And you know the rest: He will pick you up and spin you around lovingly just because he misses you so much. You have already witnessed his muscles yourself, and you know damn well that this man can carry a literal bull with ease if he wants. So he just casually picks you up like a couple of grapes

• Zuka is protective of you. He makes it obvious that you are with him. You know that he loves showing off, and that principle applies to you too. He has quite the bux because of his position, so perhaps you do have a bracelet, a necklace or even a ring that he gifted you. It basically screams to everyone that you’re his beloved and he is head over heels for you. It does a good job in keeping unwanted attention away from you. But then again, you’re still Blackrock’s military medic, no?

• Your career as the medic makes you deal with soldiers from here and there whether you like it or not. As long as it’s your shift, that’s your problem. And of course, most of them aren’t too talkative, but some are just insufferable. He doesn’t like it when someone is being an asshole to you. If they are so foolish to that point, he might as well take it personal and teach the unfortunate one a lesson. And don’t get me start when someone is trying to hit on you. This man will send that bastard in the infirmary almost immediately when it isn’t your shift. You have enough on your plate already, let him make others deal with it instead

• Both his horns and teeth are pointy. If you aren’t careful, you might get poked by it. And Zuka has this questionable habit of showing his affection which is playfully biting your cheek like he is enjoying a treat. It isn’t too hard, don’t worry about it, but it’s enough for you to feel that he just bites you. Kick his ass all you want, he will kiss and make up for that tease he gets you early until you decide to forgive him. As for his horn, there is this one time Zuka accidentally knock your chin with it. It definitely hurts, I can make sure of it. After that incident, he always has to double check before raising his head up after he lies down on your laps

• Speaking of that, yes, he loves resting his head down on your lap. When you’re working on a patient’s file, he will keep his and your dignity and just wrapping his arms around your neck as well as nuzzles against it when there are no eyes around. But honestly he doesn’t mind staying on the cold floor and just lies his head without giving a damn about what is going to happen next. Despite sometimes you act annoyed by it, but then again, your hand just automatically scratches his head like a habit without a second thought. Therefore, you just fuel his giddy mood even more

• Jokes aside, Zuka adores you. You are one of his top priorities that he swears on his life to protect. He will never trade you for anything. All those years of triumphs as the legendary hero of Blackrock feels so little compared to the time he is able to spend times with you, to love you and to let you see him for who he is. There are times when he comes back from work, or just basically seek you in the infirmary while no one else is there if the two of you are still in working hours, he won’t be able to keep that usual enthusiasm of his going. People have bad days after all, and you feel him because technically speaking working as a medic means almost everyday is a bad day to some extent for you

• Whenever you see that specific look on his expression, you know that something must have gone out of his control. Zuka doesn’t let anyone inside his personal bubble too close, but you are his exception. As much as he makes himself to look tough, when he’s around you, he can finally drop that facade after a troublesome day before bringing you close into his embrace. Feeling you in close contact with him physically assures his unknown worries, it helps calming his nerves down

• You know that although your beloved always seems to have this easy-going attitude without minding anything much, but you know Zuka, he is more than just that flamboyant guy with a shit-eating grin. You still remember that he still has a heart that yearns for peace despite his destructive actions. His heart is pumping with passion and emotions of a living being, a beating heart that bleeds when he sees a child he can’t save in that specific mission that he refuses to mention ever again in his life. He can still feel sorrow, and you have become his source of comfort because he knows that he can trust you with his vulnerability. He trust you. It means a lots for Zuka, you have no idea just how you have managed to tend the deepest wound inside his heart without knowing it. It just makes him fall deeper in love with you even more

• He won’t tell you this, but when he finally retires from his position, he wants to marry you. Zuka has imagined a domestic life with you more than he’d like to admit with a straight face. Well, he probably jokes around if you want to be his medic for the rest of your life or not, but there is a hint of seriousness in it. He wants to grow old with you, he is more than certain about that fact. While there is still bloodshed going on that requires his presence to deal with it, the thought of him dying and leaving you alone makes his stomach churned. Therefore, Zuka decides to wait. The man himself will figure out a way to convince you take it easy on yourself when the time comes as well, so for the time being, he will take his time

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: What the heck they delay the date to tomorrow’s noon, like why is there so many delays? I’m so worried because I’ve been waiting for this like, it feels so slow (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

Note 2: You can definitely tell that I like Zuka

[chukys-mouthguard]

Don’t Be a Scrooge

day 4 of the 2024 NHL advent calendar 🎄

-> 1.7k words

genre -> angst/fluff

featuring -> clayton keller x female reader

summary -> when one of your social media challenges for the utah hockey club gets on clayton’s last nerve, he finds himself working to pull off a christmas miracle to make it up to you

Just one guy left, you thought to yourself as you reset the materials for the latest challenge you were putting the team through. The gingerbread house making was a bit too messy of a cleanup, so you opted for something simple: gift wrapping.

How hard could this group of guys actually make wrapping gifts?

As you grabbed a gift from the table of toys that had been donated at a recent home game, Clayton walked in the room with a nervous smile.

“And what the heck are we up to today?”

He set his water bottle down as he found his place at the table in front of the cameras. His eyes scanned all the materials as you handed him the gift he would be wrapping.

“Easy challenge today, wrapping a gift.”

You smiled as he took the toy from you, shaking his head as he clearly knew something you didn’t in regards to his wrapping skills.

“This is gonna be fun…”

His voice trailed off as he waited for the cameras to roll and further instruction to be given.

“Okay Clayton, we are giving you five minutes to wrap this gift. You can use any of the materials on the table. Are you ready?”

“No.”

He laughed as you rolled your eyes, Clayton was never the biggest fan of the social media challenges and games you put him through, but he always pushed through anyways.

“Too bad. Go!”

You started a timer on your phone as Clayton frantically reached for the wrapping paper, immediately unraveling too much of the material and regretting that decision.

“Oh god, um, crap.”

You laughed knowing Clayton wanted to drop an f bomb or two, enjoying his struggle a bit too much as he tried holding the paper to the gift while he searched the table for tape.

“Two minutes left Clayton.”

He groaned as he began wrapping the paper around the gift haphazardly, ripping pieces of tape and slapping them onto the gift as an attempt to hold things together.

“Sixty seconds!”

You watched as Clayton immediately became flustered, an angered look on his face as he slammed his hands on the table in defeat as you called time. A sigh left his lips as you asked him to show the present to the camera, revealing his awful wrapping skills.

“Can we be done with this?”

His tone was harsh as he looked at you, practically begging to cut the cameras.

“Okay guys, cut. That’s a wrap for today.”

Clayton dropped the gift to the table as he quickly made his way out of the room to head off for practice.

“Shit is so stupid…who comes up with these dumb challenges?”

You hung your head hearing him spit out such things, taking it to heart though you knew you shouldn’t. Clayton never having been of fan of the social media extracurriculars. But it still heart knowing it was your idea for the gift wrapping and he hated every second of it.

It wasn’t a secret among the staff, and some of Clayton’s teammates that you’d always had a soft spot for him. But you did your best to hide it from him, especially since he wasn’t always thrilled when he came around knowing you were probably going to be putting him through something silly or ridiculous.

“Hey, there he is! How’d you do?”

Nick Schmaltz called out as Clayton entered the locker room to get ready for practice. Clayton simply rolled his eyes as he took a seat in his stall.

“Shit is so stupid, who keeps coming up with these ideas? First gingerbread house making, now gift wrapping. So annoying.”

Nick motioned for Clayton to keep quiet, as he hadn’t noticed that you entered the locker room having heard all of Clayton’s comments.

“What?”

Clayton turned to find you standing there, holding out his phone for him. A somewhat somber look on your face as he took it from your hand.

“Thanks.”

“You know if you didn’t want to participate in the stupid social media shit, no one is forcing you. It’s all optional.”

Clayton stood confused by your annoyed tone as you quickly left the locker room, shaking his head as he tossed his phone into his stall.

“Boy you did it this time Clayton.”

“Huh?”

“You realize y/n is the one who comes up with all the challenges and stuff you called stupid. Guarantee she doesn’t feature you for at least two weeks after that.”

Nick shook his head as he grabbed his foam roller to go stretch before practice, Clayton immediately cursing himself for being so stupid. He should have known you were involved in creating those challenges, and he never should have said the comments he did. Feeling awful that he’d clearly hurt your feelings, knowing he had to make up for being such a dick.

“Wait Nick, holdup!”

Clayton ran after his teammate, joining him for stretching as he tried to come up with a plan for fixing his fuck up.

“You got y/n for the secret santa right?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Entering the ballroom, you smiled wide at the amazing turnout for the first ever Utah Hockey Club Holiday Fundraiser. The room was decorated super festive, and players were scattered around taking advantage of all the opportunities to bond with children that were attending from the local children’s hospital.

Immediately you pulled out your phone to begin gathering content for the social media pages; photos and videos galore as you stumbled upon Clayton.

He was helping a young boy decorate a gingerbread house, a funny coincidence after his outburst earlier where he mentioned hating that challenge you’d given the guys.

You tried to go unnoticed as you took some pictures and video, but you couldn’t help the smile on your face seeing the interaction.

“Ugh, this is so stupid!”

The young boy groaned in frustration as the walls to the gingerbread house collapsed, all of his work being erased immediately. Clayton didn’t hesitate to step in and try to help quickly rectify things, despite the boy pushing the house away in anger.

“Hey hey, it’s okay man! Look, sometimes things are gonna be difficult. And we might not always enjoy them, simply because we aren’t good at them, or they aren’t easy. But that’s no reason to get angry right? That’s no reason to give up just because it gets tough. Let’s try again, and maybe we use some of these things to help hold the house together, how does that sound?”

You weren’t sure if that speech was Clayton’s way of trying to apologize to you, or him just acknowledging his actions from earlier. But either way, it meant a lot to see the interaction and how he worked to turn the young boy’s attitude around.

Clayton watched you head off into the crowd, happy that you’d gotten to see his interaction with the young fan. Hoping that it was a start at making up for his outburst over your social media challenges.

As soon as he wrapped up with the young fan, he knew he had to come find you, a further apology definitely necessary.

“Y/n, hey! Can I steal you for a second?”

Clayton pulled you outside of the ballroom, immediately nervous as he didn’t know how to apologize. Having felt stupid all day for saying things he didn’t mean solely because he wasn’t good at the challenges.

“Look, I should’ve never said those things. It was dumb of me to have such a childish outburst solely because I couldn’t wrap a fucking present. I should’ve known you had a say in the challenges, and I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m really sorry.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he was apologizing, the wringing of his hands and swaying back and forth only making it cuter how he was trying hard to say the right thing.

“I appreciate it, I do. I shouldn’t have been so hurt by what you said, but, your opinions just mean a little more to me I guess. And it hurt that you felt so strongly about everything.”

“I’ve started to realize that, especially because your feelings mean a lot to me. And seeing how I’d hurt you, made me feel awful. So, hopefully this will also make up for my stupidity.”

Clayton pulled a small box from his pocket, wrapped with a bright red bow as he smiled at you.

“What’s this?”

You tried to hide the blush that was creeping on your cheeks, taking the box from his hand as you slowly opened it to reveal a gold chain necklace with ‘Utah’ written in script. You looked at Clayton with a slight frown, the gift meaning so much as you’d told Clayton your favorite everyday gold chain necklace had broken a few weeks ago. Not thinking he would’ve ever taken it upon himself to replace it for you.

“This is really special Clayton, thank you! But, why? Just because?”

He awkwardly rubbed his neck as he shrugged.

“I, actually had you for secret santa.”

“Really?”

You tried hide your laughter, little did Clayton know you’d caught him in a lie. But you figured this was his way of trying to make sure he could apologize and make up for everything.

“Yeah, I know you aren’t supposed to tell who you get, but I felt it was appropriate considering.”

Nodding your head he caught on to your giggling, a confused look on his face as he wasn’t sure what joke he was clearly missing.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“No! I love it! It’s just, I know you didn’t have me in secret santa….you switched with Nick didn’t you?”

His face turned red as he didn’t know what to say, of course you were in charge of secret santa because why wouldn’t you be? He should’ve known that this plan wouldn’t go over seamlessly.

“Dammit, I can’t get anything past you can I?”

“You do realize that you could’ve just given me the gift regardless right?”

“Well now that you mention it I very much realize that, but, look I’m sorry! I just couldn’t have you being mad at me. I like you too much.”

He smiled at you as you tucked the gift box into your bag, the two of you needing to get back to the fundraiser.

“We’ll see how much you like me when you see what challenge I have boys doing next week!”

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Hello! I have a request. Can I have some head canons about how La Squadra would react if you were disrespected by someone? Let’s say their s/o (preferably female) works at a cafe or restaurant and a rude customer throws the money at her, completely expecting her to pick up the bill from the floor (yes, that is a real experience I’ve had, unfortunately).

How would they react? What would they do afterwards or say?

Would really, REALLY appreciate it. Honestly, I wish someone had stood up for me back then.

Author’s note: Hey hey~

Thanks for the request~

Sorry no one stood up for you, what happened to human decency?

And I can totally relate, the entitlement of people is insane. Two days in to my very first job as a cashier I had a customer say some really atrociously awful things to me and I just took it because I didn’t know what else to do and afterwards my managers told me I should’ve called them wow. Like my manager literally wouldn’t repeat what the customer had said because it was so abhorrently inappropriate and disgusting.

So yeah. Respect employees, we’re all human beings here it’s literally so easy to Not be insanely rude.

Interestingly enough I actually had some thoughts on this written in my personal La Squadra notes, particularly in regard to Prosciutto since he gives me lots of thoughts about stuff similar to that, cool that I get to address that heh.

-La Squadra x female reader: When someone disrespects you

Content, PLZ READ: female reader who works as a waitress, discussion of unhealthy and toxic masculinity paired with sexism (Prosciutto), La Squadra is a group of (mostly) pretty aggressive men who act on that feeling so. Some canon compliant aggression, threats, violence and blood. They’re a group of assassins so Lots of Bad men doing bad things. Melone’s slightly perverse tendencies

Various scenarios involving rude customers, including the example in the ask.

Established relationship: dating/married depending on the character

Ok while writing this it’s finally really hitting me how bizarre it’d be to be a non stand user witnessing or experiencing a stand attack-

Reader is aware of stands and that her La Squadra man is a member of the Mafia

And attempts at Italian hopefully it’s correct but if not please lemme know!

Micro fics style

-Formaggio: Out of all the members of La Squadra he’s noticeably much more chill and relaxed than the others. But he’s still a proud member of the Italian Mafia. And you’re his girl. He’s no knight in shining armor or Prince Charming for you, he won’t intervene when there’s an occasional irritable customer giving you a bit of a hard time. He knows you can take care of yourself.

However, if some entitled customer has the audacity to go too far and say or do something Really disrespectful while he’s around, I think he has a preference for good old-fashioned humiliation, and only results to intimidation if they decide they wanna keep making a fool of themselves.

He plays it up like: “ooh, hey, if you wanted that pretty lady’s attention there are much better ways to get it, buddy.”

You don’t have to add anything. You resume work quietly, but keep your eyes and ears focused on him, in case he decided to get carried away.

After a little bit of back and forth with him using his usual coolness and charisma, the offender gets increasingly frustrated and flustered.

When your boyfriend’s finally had enough of this stupid game he stands up from his table. His playfully mocking expression remains, but his smirk shifts ever so slightly into something more sinister. “If you want we could just take this outside,” he says it so casually, with the tone of a man who wasn’t going to hold back if it actually did escalate into a fight. He was not bluffing at all either.

At full height and with the clear confidence that he was absolutely gonna win the fight, the rude customer wisely decides Formaggio was Not someone he wanted to mess with and awkwardly leaves the restaurant, Formaggio loudly exclaiming taunts as the guy skittered away with his tail between his legs.

He seems awfully pleased with himself after “defending your honor” like that. You let him enjoy that feeling, because honestly that was pretty well done and it didn’t get too ugly. He has some nerve expecting a bunch of praise from you for that though.

-Illuso: Someone saying or doing something rude to you is like insulting him as well. And his stand is uniquely qualified for an entertaining punishment against some arrogant idiot giving you a difficult time.

Illuso doesn’t say anything, but when you look over at him while some jerk is screaming his head off at you like it’s your fault his food took five minutes longer than usual to arrive, you see that he’s pretending to fix up his appearance in a fancy compact mirror you had gifted him on your one year anniversary.

You can tell immediately he’s actually angling it at the guy screaming at you so he can activate Man in the Mirror. You inwardly groan because honestly you welcome your husband’s interference, but it will be difficult to explain a man magically disappearing in the middle of a restaurant, especially while he’s causing such a scene with that excessive screeching.

All of a sudden…silence. Such a sudden silence that the sound of Illuso clasping his mirror shut is audible to you from where you’re standing. Of course all the customers were looking at that guy who was freaking out at you. And he literally vanished before their eyes. So you do the only thing you can think of and spread your arms in an exaggerated manner and go: “Ta-DAAAH~” like the supernatural disappearance was just a magic trick.

In a rather weak attempt to sell it, Illuso starts slowly clapping for you and commenting: “molto bene~”. You can’t muster an annoyed glare at him; the slight smile tugging at your lips gave you away. A few customers join him in clapping, a bit confused, but honesty just glad that the yelling has stopped.

Illuso’s version of torment is to leave the guy completely alone in the mirror world. Confusion combined with isolation is a cruel combination, and given his captor was Illuso who was absolutely bound to prolong the punishment because of his sadistic tendencies, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

“Make sure you let him go by this evening,” you remind him before you get back to work.

“Let who go, dearie?” he says, his acting pathetically bad.

Sigh. So he was going to play it that way…

“I’m serious,” you grumble.

“Me too.”

You meet his eyes at that remark, and his smug smirk tells you he wants to see if you’ll keep nagging him about it.

When you don’t indulge him he’ll get bored and let the guy go. Hopefully that brat learned a lesson. And if not, at least he has a story literally no one will believe.

-Prosciutto: Despite not being a very nice man to you, he’s got that ridiculous belief that only he’s allowed to be harsh to you. It’s “tough love” when he’s hyper critical of you or snaps at you for something small, but if anyone else does it to an excessive degree then it’s apparently unacceptable, rude behavior. Really it’s just his pride as a man and unhealthy view of masculinity that causes him to freak out when you’re disrespected. He’s your fiancé…By his logic, you need him to protect you, and it’s his job as a man to do so.

He’s a big hypocrite.

But at least he stands up for you.

You could usually feel Prosciutto watching when a customer started to get a little ornery with you. He wouldn’t always step in, unless something he deemed entirely disrespectful was said or done; he does think dealing with irritable people is okay for you until they get carried away.

It looked like he wasn’t going to intervene this time over the dirtbag being extraordinarily picky and fussy with you, just because he liked bossing essential workers around apparently. Prosciutto was listening, as usual, but didn’t seem too concerned, drinking his coffee disinterestedly. Until the customer decided to toss a crumpled up napkin at you when you turned around.

Ohhh boy, you didn’t even have to LOOK to know the coffee mug getting slammed down on a table was Prosciutto.

You debate what you should do. He strides past you, and you opt to just…hold still and listen for a moment. Pretend you don’t know him, and let him do whatever it is he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess what it is).

Despite all the tough talk he was doing before, that customer couldn’t hide the slight panic in his voice at Proscuitto’s sudden approach.

Unlike a lot of Passione members who preferred to hide their affiliation to the mafia, Prosciutto wasn’t nearly as subtle with that tailored suit, open shirt and the demeanor of a man who’s killed before and will kill again.

“Hey who the hell do you think you are?! Stay away from m-” the jerk’s nervous ranting is cut off by Prosciutto dragging him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“You dropped something,” Prosciutto says in that certain tone you’ve grown all too familiar with. He uses it often when he’s pissed off or teaching a lesson or both at the same time.

Before the man can even squeak out the beginnings of some sort of excuse or counter he’s gagging, and you turn around to stop Prosciutto from straight up choking the guy by shoving the same napkin he tossed at you down his throat, speaking about how disgustingly disrespectful it was to throw anything at a woman.

“Hey, I think he gets it,” you cut in.

You wonder if he’s actually gonna listen to you this time. For a moment it seems like he might ignore you and continue the lesson. But he decides you may have a point and that he’s not worth the trouble. Though it doesn’t stop him from roughly shoving the guy to the ground when he lets go of his shirt.

“Make sure you add an apology when you pay the check,” he says to the sniveling man on the floor desperately telling himself not to make a run for it like a coward now that Prosciutto’s back was turned.

You don’t know whether to smile or roll your eyes, knowing all your fiancé meant was that he better leave you a generous tip as compensation for such disrespectful behavior.

“Go smoke outside,” is all you say to him when you see Prosciutto reach for the pack of cigarettes in his jacket. He smoked when he was especially irritated; so he went through a lot of cigarettes. He waves his hand dismissively at you, but obeys and goes outside. Though he stays close to the entrance. He’s making it clear he’s not leaving til you’re getting paid well for all that trouble.

The guy ended up practically handing his wallet to you.

Prosciutto internally checks off his: do one good thing for his fiancée today mission.

-Pesci: He’s not the most confrontational of La Squadra, and there’s no love lost between the murderous members of the team beyond a mild respect for each other’s strength (and that’s only sometimes) but he’s more than familiar with how most of the other assassins handle disrespect or things they don’t like in public with violence and aggression (hard glares at Ghiaccio and Prosciutto in particular). And that usually results in them getting asked to leave the premises, how embarrassing-

He doesn’t want to embarrass you either when a particularly volatile customer started screaming at you and freaking out for no valid reason. But he can’t just sit there and let you take that kind of abuse either.

He tries to excuse you from the situation by calling you over to his table like he was a customer and it was something urgent. And well…it might just escalate the irritation of that insufferable jerk screaming at you but…

You go to Pesci anyways, opting to just ignore the jerk, pretending to be busy dealing with some made up issue Pesci was improvising.

To your surprise it actually kinda worked. The guy was steaming for a bit and yelling at you from his table but. You just ignored him. And if anything actually happened Pesci was 100% capable of handling it if he had to. He didn’t usually try to start fights, but if pushed he could absolutely finish them.

“Do you usually get customers like that?” Pesci asks with genuine concern in his voice once the guy finally gets mad enough to leave (without paying but that was a problem for later).

“Well…” more often than someone who doesn’t work in food service would think…

“Sometimes,” you admit vaguely, not wanting to worry him but not wanting to lie either.

He thinks you should find some different job, not that he’s actually in a position to suggest that given he’s literally a La Squadra assassin. And you’ve heard from the few times you’ve met with his coworkers that the money they make in the business of murder is minuscule all things considered. Honestly he should get a new job too. One that didn’t rely on the occasional commission and splitting a check with eight other people.

You both know it’s not that easy to just Find a new job. And he doesn’t think it’s a great idea to suggest you get more involved in Passione for quick but dirty money…sigh…no easy solution…

-Melone: Your boyfriend was the least confrontational man in La Squadra.

Usually you encourage him to not visit you at work…because he always stares at you in such a manner that your coworkers or customers sometimes warn you about a creep in the corner booth who’s been watching you for a while.

As someone who’s used to being yelled at (though only because he’s the one being a FREAK so it doesn’t Really count) he’s sure you can handle the occasional ornery customer who decided to raise their voice at you. He usually intervened only if you directly requested it, because more often than not you got annoyed at him for worming his way into your other problems. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice when he’s typing on his laptop at the restaurant you work at and someone starts destructively causing a scene all because you brought them the wrong brand of soda by accident. It’s been a long day, you’re tired, you’re working the evening shift and the restaurant’s about to close. So you don’t bother to try and appease this guy, you know he’ll just complain and give you a hard time no matter what you do. And he apparently took your: “I’m sorry, let me grab you the right one,” as disingenuous and insulting, because you didn’t call him “Sir”. You really don’t feel like dealing with this, and you’re about to just let it go until he has the audacity to knock the soda off the table and onto the floor, staining the floor and even getting soda all over your shoes.

God…just to humiliate you over something small-you find yourself quietly staring at the floor for a moment, trying to register what you should even do…bend over right now to try to salvage your shoes before the soda dried? You had napkins in your pocket. But then the damn customer won…

And you know Melone was watching everything. He’s so invested that he’s stopped typing.

Melone’s no gentleman, and has no shame, but he can’t just let someone get away completely with disrespecting his girlfriend…especially given he had bought those cute shoes for you!

You can only mumble Melone’s name quietly when he approaches the situation, his demeanor energized despite how late it was. You weren’t gonna deny him stepping in but saying his name was a warning not to be too weird.

He clicks his tongue, making a point to not even look at the jerky customer, like he wasn’t there, and focuses all his attention on you.

“You know those shoes weren’t cheap, tesoro mio,” he chides playfully, immediately plucking off some napkins from the customer’s table and kneeling in front of you so he can wipe your shoes clean himself.

You bite your lip. It might seem gentlemanly to onlookers, but you knew he was also using the opportunity to get close to your legs in public. But he manages to behave himself, even putting a few napkins over the spill on the floor once he’s done with your shoes.

When he finally stands back up, he makes a point of leaning very close with an especially devious look on his face.

“What a shame,” he says in a strangely exaggerated tone. “I think I’ll have to buy you a new pair of shoes…”

You just give him a confused look after reminding him you’re on the clock when he leans in for a kiss.

Then he wanders off. But at least he distracted the customer enough to dampen the worst of the disrespectful behavior.

You finish your shift. Melone was waiting for you outside with his motorcycle, as he’s your ride back to your shared apartment.

He looks especially pleased with himself.

“What’d you do this time?” you sigh and yawn, too tired to feel especially concerned with whatever he might’ve done.

“Your next pair of shoes is going to be Especially nice…I’ll even get you a pretty dress to go with them~” he licks his lips.

Under the dim light of the street lamp, you finally notice the wallet that he’s holding up. It isn’t his.

His little kneeling act by the table with the rude customer apparently had many purposes…your boyfriend really was quite a sly opportunist…

“Melone…” you were gonna chide him gently for taking the guy’s Entire wallet but…it was too late to start arguing with him, given he was your ride home. And you didn’t care too much about it in the first place, especially right now.

-Ghiaccio: Everything ticks him off so when you’re working you don’t mind if he doesn’t bother to stop by and say hi even when he’s in the area. He tends to get worked up about something minuscule even during quick visits. And your restaurant is quite popular with tourists, who he has a borderline obsessive type of hatred for. Yeah. You were okay with him NOT visiting you while you were working because inevitably one day he was gonna cause quite a scene-

You feel a very ironic cold shiver down your spine when you catch sight of a familiar red Mazda Miata going way too fast in the parking lot looking for a space to park.

“Dios mio…I don’t need this today…” you mumble to yourself, not realizing a particularly entitled customer was watching you act distracted for a moment by looking at a car from the window.

When you get to his table, you don’t really know what he’s yapping about when he says waitresses these days are SO ditzy and aren’t properly trained. You’re not listening too hard because you’re watching Ghiaccio walk past the window on his way into the restaurant. He gives you an acknowledging glance when he spots you, and it pisses off the customer even more because now he’s complaining about how completely unprofessional it was that you invited your boyfriend into the restaurant while you were working. You have no idea where this guy is even getting all these assumptions, or what was even so terribly wrong with the scenario he’s making up, so you don’t pay it much attention and just brush it off as the customer’s eccentric personality trait.

Until he says that if you were going to be disrespectful by inviting your boyfriend to work, you might as well look busy.

What a freaking idiot, waiting for Ghiaccio to walk in to the restaurant before literally throwing the money for his meal at you, completely expecting you to pick up all the bills.

Ghiaccio doesn’t even need to know the context to react (though it’s probably for the best he didn’t hear what started it because it’d just piss him off even more).

“Hey, hey, hey…” Ghiaccio’s voice from the entrance can be heard from half way inside the restaurant. “If you meant to give the money to her, it’d be MUCH more efficient for both of you if you just HANDED it to her, you freaking moron-“

Oh God, here we go…Ghiaccio wasn’t screaming quite at full volume as he speed walked to where you were standing, his hands twitching slightly, either oblivious or simply ignoring all the customers exchanging nervous glances as they watched him. He has to be literally the WORST AND the EASIEST member of his entire team to piss off…and when he got like this he sometimes didn’t even listen to you.

The customer glares at him, and dares to open his mouth to respond, but Ghiaccio’s rant wasn’t over and it just pisses him off even more to see the guy had the audacity to try and interrupt him.

“Ghia, hey-”

Yeah he was definitely not gonna listen to your attempt to calm him down. You wonder if he even heard you because he grabbed the guy by the back of the head while you were talking.

“IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY DAMN SENSE WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT! I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT OF THROWING MONEY ALL OVER THE GROUND?! YOU JUST GET OFF WATCHING HER WASTE A BUNCH OF TIME PICKING THAT ALL UP?!”

Was he…more pissed about the illogical nature of the behavior or the fact that you were being disrespected…?…It’s kinda hard to tell…this ornery yapper on even more ornery yapper violence was Quite a scene this early in the morning…

“DON’T YOU HAVE A LIFE, IDIOT? OR DID YOU GO OUT JUST TO KILL TIME BY POINTLESSLY INCONVENIENCING A WAITRESS?! YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE BUT SHE’S GOT AN ACTUAL JOB TO DO AND DOESN’T HAVE TIME TO PLAY 52 CARD PICKUP WITH ENTITLED JERKS LIKE YOU!”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that most people would be mortified to watch their boyfriend completely lose it like this in public, you’re so used to it at this point; you’re thinking about how it’s a bit hypocritical of him given how you’ve witnessed him Also going off on a poor server for nothing.

“GHIACCIO!” you finally make yourself shout, reaching out and grabbing the wrist of the arm he was using to hold the panicking rude customer by the back of the head.

You know Ghiaccio. He was about to slam that man’s head on the table.

“WHAT?!” he snaps, but when he whips his head, you can tell the raging blizzard of his soul wavered just a bit when he looked at you.

“Don’t…you’ll break the table, they’re flimsy…”

His physical strength always astounded you, given he wasn’t particularly large, and he wasn’t even resisting your hand on his wrist but you could still feel the power in his arm. “You already made your point…” you whisper, worried about getting in trouble for the scene he was causing.

“BUT-“

“Thank you, it’s okay…”

He REALLY has to debate it, but reluctantly releases the man with an irritated huff and an audible growl. Such a lucky guy…you were one of the few people who could get Ghiaccio to think before taking something too far.

“Is your shift almost over?” he asks, clearly still incredibly irritated, tapping his foot rapidly against the ground.

“About fifteen minutes to go.” You glance at the trembling rude customer, gazing wide eyed and flinching every time Ghiaccio moved in any way.

He checks his watch and the customer climbs further into the booth out of fear of the simple gesture, but Ghiaccio is forcing himself not to pay him any mind.

“I’ll wait for you in the car then.”

“Alright.”

As long as he left the restaurant…

Now everyone knew he was definitely with you in some capacity…damn.

He sends a pointed glare to a couple of the customers on the way out. A “gentle reminder” to keep manners in mind.

And when you give the rude customer one last look, you see he’s on the ground picking up the money he had tossed at you.

He’s trembling a bit. Probably from fear of Ghiaccio changing his mind and coming back to actually break his face. But he’s probably a bit cold too, just from coming into physical contact with Ghiaccio could leave anyone with a chill if he partly activated his stand while touching someone.

You really needed to have a chat with him about his temper but as the previously inconsiderate customer blubbers out apologies and begs you to protect him from your scary boyfriend while shoving the money (and a generous tip) directly into your hands you hesitantly decide today is not the day.

-Risotto Nero: He doesn’t go out in public often, but minus the whole “leader of an assassination division in the mafia with a truly frightening appearance” he’s a pretty normal guy. Keeps to himself and stoic, but he can hold a conversation. You’re fine with him not visiting you at work often, you get that he’s super busy, but when he does stop by you’re glad to see him (and he doesn’t cause any scenes. Bonus points for Risotto).

It was a slow morning for you, and he had finished an early morning mission earlier than he had expected. He even checked to make sure the diner you worked at wasn’t busy before he decided to stop in and see you.

Your face lights up when you see him, running over to him and giving him a quick hug, and bringing him a small cup of coffee on the house, allowing yourself a brief moment of respite to speak with your boyfriend. It wasn’t busy yet…there were only two other customers, but it was just your luck that one of them woke up on the wrong side of the bed and decided to come over and give you a hard time for taking a moment to spend with Risotto.

“Does your boss pay you to flirt with customers?”

You can’t even believe someone really came over just to say that to you. You weren’t even sitting down to talk to Risotto, and it’s not like you were being loud or obnoxious or anything.

“She’s doing her job,” Risotto points out with that signature stoic nature. The guy seems slightly put off by Risotto’s unique appearance, but was apparently in a bad enough mood to not back down so easily.

“If she was doing her job she’d be bringing me a refill and not wasting her time chatting with a guy she already served,” he points out indignantly. What an insane level of entitlement…Risotto seemed to think the same thing, though he wasn’t a fan of escalating things.

But this guy…he had some audacity talking to you like that.

Risotto puts his hands on the table, and stands up slowly, deliberately, to his full height, tilting his head slightly to better look the smaller man in the eyes.

“She’s just being polite,” Risotto corrects the man. His voice is still calm, but his speaking speed is Slightly slower. Paired with him purposefully emphasizing his full height, the warning that he wasn’t going to stay civil for much longer was clear.

The unwanted visitor inwardly debates for a moment, visibly shaken from Risotto’s intimidation but absolutely too embarrassed to just back off now.

He foolishly decides to keep going.

“She-” he’s cut off by an almost explosive gush of blood coming out of his own nose. You gasp at the suddenness, but instantly realize what’s happening. He slams his hand over his nose, the blood not stopping that easily, almost immediately leaking through his fingers.

“Oh…” Risotto remarks with obviously fake concern, leaning in as if he were examining the “mysterious” nosebleed. “You’d better take care of that before you get blood all over the place…” he states the obvious with complete unconcern.

It was admittedly a bit funny to watch that jerk sprint to the restroom clutching his bloody nose.

There is a minuscule tug to the edges of Risotto’s lips.

“Risotto! Sudden unexplainable nosebleeds aren’t funny at all,” you chide, despite not feeling an ounce of pity. It’s not like Risotto was trying to kill that guy, if he was he would be bleeding out on the ground right now. The goal was just to embarrass him a bit, and he definitely succeeded.

“I think that was just a suitable divine punishment,” Risotto replies with a shrug, as if his stand, Metallica, had nothing to do with it. It’s subtle but…you can tell he’s irritated someone really had that kind of nerve to bother you for no reason. But you won’t let it ruin his whole day, reminding him that you got off work early today and you’ve been really excited to finally have some free time to spend with him.

Author’s closing note: I hope this could bring you some entertainment~it was enjoyable to write and consider how a few of them could use their stands to mess with people but wow I was being sent back to my first job on occasion with some of these customer characters, sheesh-

[varpusvaras]

Actually Roy and Jade being ex's who sometimes get along and sometimes don't and heavily disagree on things but still try to work some of those things out because they do still care about each other and they love their kid and are thus forever connected by her is extremely important to me regarding their dynamic. I don't think I could be nearly as interested in them and their relationship if they turned into a lovey-dovey domestic endgame couple. If I want to write them as settling down (mainly Jade) I still wouldn't write them together, which is for more personal reasons (both of my parents are two times divorced but now good friends with each other, I still call my step-mom my step-mom even though she and my dad have been divorced for years by now, my mom and step-mom are also friendly with each other, etc etc). It just resonates with me more that there can be genuine care and love between people and perhaps romantic feelings were an important part of it at some point, but it is not the necessity for this all to work out in the end.

[coolfireguy73]

Hello everyone, I'm... back ?

For anyone that may interest, it's me AG. You probably forgot about me.

Hi !

First of all I wanted to apologies. I don't didn't have that huge of a following but for the few people that followed my stuff and liked my AUs, I'm sorry I have essentially disappeared.

I have a few things to say about why I did and I will announce something regarding the Child mercs AU at the end of this.

So if you are not interested in anything else you can skip to "It brings us to today" further down.

For everyone else (not many I assume):

When I discover something new, a new game, a new anime or whatever, I may hyperfixate on it. I'll only talk about it, I'll only draw fanarts of it etc... Like TF2, this was one of my hyperfixation.

I say was because , for some reason, I can only hyperfixate on one fandom at a time. I can have a lot of things I like and care a lot for, but when it comes to the things that dictates my life and art (Like TF2 did) I can only have one.

I don't know why, I've always been like this and I kinda hate it at times.

Anyway, like you may have seen from my last posts, before leaving I fell into the JJBA fandom.

This was (and still is) my new hyperfixation.

I could literally feel it replace TF2 in my mind. And I hated it.

I still love TF2 dearly, but it had been... "replaced" in a way.

I had a lot of unfinished projet I knew a would have a harder time finishing because I had moved on to something else.

I tried to continu the comic twice. And both time the file got deleted.

I lost what little will I had to continue it.

An I'm sad about it. I hate it when I get invested in something that's unfinished. And I said multiple times that I would finish it ! That and the Cryptid AU.

But I never did.

It brings us to today:

I wanted to do this for a while and with the final entry of the TF2 comics finally out I figured now was a good time.

Even though I want to, I don't know when or even IF I'm going to finish drawing the comics.

THAT SAID, though the drawings aren't finished, the story, the description of what would have been on every page is !

It's been since before I started drawing it.

And I thought I could do something with it.

I can publish the last pages of the Child mercs comic in written form. Every drawing described and with the dialogue that should have accompanied it.

You'll essentially have the entire story, just, without the little drawings.

But only if you still care about it. And I know some of you did and even if only one of you want it, I'll do it.

It won't be the version I wanted, with my drawings, but if I never make them, at least you can enjoy the end of the story. And I'd hate to keep that from you forever.

Again I'm sorry for leaving, I figured you wouldn't want to see Jojo Fanart when I hadn't even finished my TF2 projects.

I'm still very grateful for all the nice comments I received, and maybe one day I'll come back with a few TF2 drawings to show you :)

P.S.: I never had a written thing for the Cryptid AU, I kinda want to rewrite it entirely but I'm working on another project. Though it's nearing completion so maybe I'll have time.

I mainly wanted to say, though I didn't have any idea where the story was heading, I did have an idea why they all became cryptids so if you want to hear about it too. Let me know.

Anyway, have a good one everyone.

And thanks for everything :)

-AG

[lunaandco]

get it off your chest

pairing: pedri x ofc

summary: pedri comes home tired and stressed from his last match. celia offers a way to help him

warnings: smut, oral sex (m recieving), deep throat, face fucking, dom!pedri

author's note: saw the game against atleti and blacked out. i did not proof read 😬

masterlist // I do not take requests

The door unlocking set Celia's nerves on fire. She had had a late shift at work she couldn't wiggle her way out, which meant she could not attend the game at Montjuic. She had arrived home by the 13th minute mark, and watched in horror how Barça lost a game they should have won easily.

Pedri was wonderful. Whenever he picked the ball dome magic happened, but passing the ball to the forwards was like shooting against the wall. Everything happened but a goal.

And so, Atlético de Madrid pulled a last minute remontada.

Celia had watched how her boyfriend got awarded man of the match, and for what? He looked so heartbroken they might as well killed a puppy in front of him.

Celia slipped to the hall, where Pedri was dropping his bag and his keys. His hair was still wet from the shower, his cheeks still pink from the exertion. His dark eyes were casted down.

"Baby," she muttered, rushing to hug him. Pedri squeezed her waist between his arms, face buried on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

His breathing was heavy, and Celia could feel some wetness on her shirt. She didn't mention it.

Celia locked their fingers, dragging a barely responsive Pedri back to their bedroom.

"Have you eaten?" He nodded slowly. "Water?" Another nod.

It was jarring, seeing a boy as passionate as Pedri totally drained like this. It made her want to put on a jersey and score the goals herself.

Celia helped Pedri get off his clothes and to slip on the bed, offering her chest for him to lay his head. She cradled his face, tangled her fingers on his hair, as he sniffled a little. She let him cry for a while, until he passed out.

💙❤️

An hour into his nap, Pedri woke up. The fog he had been in was gone, and Celia could see how angry he was. The fire was back, as he looked up at her.

"I'm sorry," he said, lifting his head. "Earlier I was—"

"It's okay, I saw. You... you were majestic today."

"It wasn't enough."

"It can't be when you played without forwards." She caressed his cheek. "If there's anything I can do to help... I can't make the team better, but maybe I can make you feel good? I could cook anything or..."

She blushed. She should not be thinking about that when her boyfriend was down.

"I... I think that would help," he said shyly.

Their relationship ship was quite recent. Pedri had given Celia keys to her home so she could meet him after games in situations like this, but they were nkt as familiar with each other as they would like. Specially in that regard.

Celia pushed the hair out of his forehead.

"How do you want me?"

She was not going to judge. She was eager to be there for him, in any way she could, in any way that he needed.

"Can I have your mouth?" It was rare dor Pedri to ask for something like that. He was a gentleman through and thorough, always focusing on her pleasure and trying to be a sweet and soft as he could. Celia had noticed he enjoyed it when things got a little bit rougher, when he got her lips around him, even if her tired to hide it.

She suspected he would not be able to pretend so well tonight.

They moved, Pedri sitting by the edge of the bed, and Celia kneeling between his thighs. She pulled down the elastic band of his shorts and his underwear, getting rid of all the layers between them. There was no point in soft foreplay and shy tentatives.

Celia looked up at him, hand snaking to grab at his cock stroking him into full hardness. Pedri's gaze was dark and contained, his fists resting at the sides of his body.

"If you want me to stop—" she offered.

"No! Please. I need... I need this."

Celia nodded, beginning to give small kitten licks to the underside of his dick. It was pink and just as pretty as the rest of him. Pedri pulled off his t-shirt, the room suddenly boiling him alive.

Celia put the tip inside her mouth, suckling gently as she stroked what she didn't put inside, watching as the muscles on Pedri's torso tensed and relaxed.

"Joder, baby," he groaned. "Pleae, baby, give me some more." Pedri's hand tangled on her blonde curls, and pushed her gently against himself, before stopping abruptly. "I'm sorry—"

Celia pulled out and shook her head, green eyes glinting with an idea. She pulled her hair in a ponytail, and led Pedri's hand to hold it.

"Use me as you need, baby," she instructed him. "Use my mouth to get it off your chest, okay?"

The invitation to fuck her face was there, but Pedri still hesitated a couple of moments. Celia stuck her tongue out and winked, waiting for him to take the offer.

Pedri pushed himself inside her mouth slowly, tentatively testing her resistance and the depth of her promise, before realising Celia was not backing out.

"Fuck—"

Her mouth was warm and wet, lips wrapping around him. She struggled a bit to take him deep inside, choking when he hit the back of her throat, but she did not pull away. She was decided to be his fucktoy for the night and she would be.

"Oh, my God."

Pedri was moving her head up and down, setting a faster pace. Celia was delighted, as he sped up, his patience finally breaking.

Celia started choking, the gagging noise coming form her throat driving Pedri to pulling her off, ropes of spit connecting her mouth to his cock as she regained her breath.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, voice husky, completely gone. "To be used as a fleshlight, huh? Did you want me to fuck that pretty skull of yours?"

"Ye—Yes," confirmed Celia. Pedri tapped his dick against her tongue, demanding entry again.

He was not kind, he was not soft. Pedri did as promised his grip on Celia's hair forcing her to lend her mouth to be fucked, not that she wanted it any other way. His hips started twitching forward, meeting her halfway.

"I'm gonna cum soon," he warned. "Swallow it like a good girl, okay, baby?"

It took him a few thrusts to finally still deep inside her mouth, cum flooding her throat as she swallowed greedily.

"Thank you," he exhaled, finally freeing her from his grip. Celia smiled dazzedly.

"Thank you," she told him. She had never seen this demanding and rough side of Pedri, but was decided to explore it in a nicer day.

"I really needed that," Pedri admitted, as if the post orgasm clarity was taking away his filter. "Thank you so much, baby."

"Always, Pedri." Celia rested her head on his thigh, licking at her lips. "I'm here for you, okay?"

[saiintvalentiine]

okay. sorry saiint for spamming your inbox but i am now actually considering horace x wifies. i think theyd actually be cute... could you write horace building something for wifies for free out of his own will this time because he thinks hes cute... this will be my last request i prommy... maybe

i cant keep defending myself against the "makes my mutuals ship weird shit" allegations..............

Word count: 592

Wifies does, in fact, feel incredibly bad for Horace and the builders. The whole payment thing is kind of. . . He’s not sure what to do about that, though. Parrot isn’t easy to convince, even when it’s Wifies doing the convincing, and they really don’t have much of anything right now. There is, though, one thing Wifies can do at least kind of effectively, and that’s baking really good treats. Ken skimmed off the top of this batch of stuffed croissants, but it should still be enough for the whole team. They’re working on the northern side of the island when Wifies finally finds them.

Horace is an easy form to spot, standing on top of a quartz support beam. He lands a few blocks away on the ground level and waves at Horace.

“Hey!”

Horace sees him and waves back, Elytra wings spreading as he hops down.

“Hey, it’s been a minute!”

“It has, sorry about that.”

Wifies digs a shulkerbox out of his inventory and places it down between them with a smile.

“I made ham and cheese stuffed croissants.”

Horace takes two before calling over the rest of his builders, who descend upon the shulkerbox like vultures. Golden carrots are great for healing, but nothing beats actual food in terms of taste.

“Actually, I wanted to show you something,” Horace says around a mouthful. “You got a minute?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

It’s difficult to not start worrying immediately. Horace finishes eating and waves Wifies down a paved path that weaves between buildings and courtyards and flowering trees that shiver with the void cold.

“So I noticed you don’t really like the color palette,” Horace says, scratching his jaw absently.

“I do like it,” Wifies says automatically. “It’s pretty. Regal.”

“White and blue isn’t for everyone.”

“Really, I like it!”

He’s more of a warm, jewel toned guy, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s left everything in regards to the building in Horace’s capable hands, and everything does look wonderful.

“Regardless, I wanted to show you this.”

The stop in front of a building that looks all the same to Wifies. It’s white with a blue roof, but the door is spruce strangely enough.

“Go in.”

Wifies doesn’t get the feeling that this is some kind of trap, but he slides a totem into his hand subtly as he pushes the door open. Nothing happens— of course nothing happens, duh— but he’s surprised by the inside decor. The whole room is warm with candles and lanterns, floor padded with deep violet carpets and walls lined with spruce planks.

“What?” he says dumbly.

“Come on now, enter properly.”

So he does, slipping the totem back into his inventory as he steps in. There's not a lot of space inside, but there’s a kitchen on one end and something like a couch-bed hybrid on the other end. Horace taps the lid of a stack of barrels lightly and grins.

“I wasn’t going to let you be miserable in a Civ I’m building,” he says as Wifies pokes around. “You’re way too nice. So I bothered Ken into telling me what you like.”

“Why not ask Parrot?” Wifies asks, picking up a black pillow and squeezing it.

Horace doesn’t answer. Instead he asks, “Do you like it?”

“I do. Thank you.”

Wifies turns to smile at him, hugging the pillow a little. Horace looks proud, practically preening on the spot.

“Did you just want easy access to my food?” Wifies teases.

“No! I’m chivalrous. I have good intentions.”

Wifies snorts but believes him anyway.