#DJ D-Nice

[fyeahusheraymond]

USHER, DJ D-Nice, Ne-Yo, Naomi Campbell, Daniel Lee, Frank Roberts and Storm Reid at the Secret Garden Met Gala after-party held at The Times Square Edition in New York, New York (May 6, 2024)

[biggoldbelt]

Ring in 2025 with DJ D-Nice at LA Phil's Club Quarantine Live New Year's Eve Celebration

The Los Angeles Philharmonic is thrilled to present an unforgettable musical experience that will light up the City of Angels this New Year’s Eve! If you haven’t made plans yet, don’t worry—mark your calendars for a night to remember. On Tuesday, December 31, 2024, Club Quarantine Live with DJ D-Nice & Friends will take over the iconic Walt Disney Concert Hall, bringing a one-of-a-kind…

[olgipolgi]

if evil why cute?! 🥺🤲🖤

[canmking]

D - N i c e

[threewaysdivided]

Hobson Heckled into Historical Haute-Couture

Continuing the Dan Jones & Dragons gala parade with Hobson, the Flower Crowns' oft-harried Halfling Warlock (played by the ever-wholesome Dan Floyd). Is he trying to massage away the realisation that letting his literally-half-brained patron choose his gala attire might have been a mistake? Is Valse giving him a headache over something else entirely? Did he use Detect Magic in a room full of powerful items and accidentally flash-bang himself? Yes.

More Flower Crowns Gala Outfits: Morenthal | Gelnek

As always, design talk under the cut:

But before that, a short story: I've been following Dan's content on Youtube for... oh jeez, that sure is almost a decade now, both on his current New Frame Plus/Playframe channels and back when he was the primary founder and narrator for EC. His old games education videos helped me get one of my earliest jobs in project work and introduced me to a bunch of media production concepts (like scope management) that would go on to inform some of my own storytelling analysis posts. It was a startling little moment of artistic ouroboros to realise I was mentally running through key points from Dan's own Pose Design 101 video as I was drawing his DnD character. Never expected things to come full-circle like that, but if you're seeing this, Dan: here's to you 🫡 If you're not Dan and haven't already, do go check out his stuff - it's all super well-produced, informative, funny and he's just an overall stand-up guy.

Now: onto the tiny little nerd and his passé party attire

This was a really fun costuming challenge, with a bunch of interesting curveballs thrown in the mix. Unlike the rest of the Flower Crowns, Hobson didn't choose his own party outfit: it was picked out by his patron after Valse kibbitzed him into giving up and letting a heroism-obsessed Fey call the shots. Dan cited Valse as having the fashion sense of Stede Bonnet-as-depicted-in-OFMD, briefing a vaguely 19th century-style outfit that had frilled sleeves and 'would have looked gaudy even when it was in fashion a century earlier'.

Actually dating his outfit was the first challenge. D&D settings are kind of an anachronistic uchronia, with classic swords-and-sorcery fantasy campaigns potentially pulling inspiration points from anywhere across the Arthurian era up to pre-war modernity. Which leads to the question: how do you make something seem dated in a setting where most everything looks vaguely ye-olde-fantasy? The other challenge was that, IRL, the 19th century (i.e Victorian era) was when menswear started taking on a lot of the shapes that would eventually become modern suit and top-'n'-tails fashion. Since Trilby was already going to be wearing classic top-'n'-tails formalwear, I decided to set Hobson's style earlier in the 1800s-1820s and pull in some 18th century Stede Bonnet flourishes to visually set them apart. This article provided some great reference images, and once I hit on the figured silk waistcoat I knew I had a potential starting point.

Colour-wise, I stuck with the burgundy-and-gold palette the Dans gave Hobson in his official gala stream art, since those looked good together and matched up with Dan J's tendency to draw Hobson wearing greens/earth-tones and Valse in reds/jewel-tones. The combination is a lot more colourful and richly saturated than is typical for this style of Victorian-adjacent clothes, which felt appropriate for Valse's gaudy tastes.

Fabric-wise, I figured a fun way to gaudy things up even further would be to lean into the silks and satins that were fashionable at the time, but make all of his outfit shimmery rather than just a single feature piece. As a bonus, silk and satin clothes tend be hot, inelastic and have horribly itchy seams if worn unlined, which felt like exactly the kind of thing Valse's all-form-no-function sensibilities would inflict upon the small, long-suffering fellow. Both these fabrics also have a habit of behaving hideously and ripping themselves apart when worn wet, which makes this a great outfit to, say, accidentally fight an Aboleth in. Poor Hobson.

Some other details, just for fun: 1. Hobson's sketch layers include a drawing of his un-removable cursed left bracer. He's pulled the frilly, puffy sleeve over it but you might spot hints of the shape and the gem if you squint. 2. The reference waistcoat I used had floral embroidery on it. Had this actually been a Hobson outfit, I would have converted them to his garland flower (Forget-Me-Nots), but since it was a Valse pick I decided to make them Senaliesse chrysanthemums; a flower given out to friends of the Feywild's Summer Court as a sign of protection and favour. (It also adds extra layers to Pocket mistaking Hobson for a denizen of the Fey, which is fun).

Close crop on the details because I'm very happy with how they turned out:

[deus-ex-mona]

the way this was the last new image featuring daimeggle th o u g h

[rnbria]

Binder files: 2008

*Keisha Epps*

[thepentangle]

The way I was despairing over how mid this year's wimb was yesterday but today it's been banger after banger after banger...

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ the snow ball

teacher!Steve Harrington x teacher!Reader 

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: My second fic for @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas takes us back to 1996. At the annual Snow Ball Dance, Girl Power is supreme and the English teacher is standing very close to Mr H… 

Content: The tension is high. 90’s nostalgia, teacher puns and passing notes. Redefinition of the word nemesis, now to be read as ‘that one colleague you have a lethal crush on’ (the girls who get it, get it)

✨bang average festive fics✨ Steve Harrington masterlist ✨

December 1996

The opening bars of Wannabe are cut by the sound of thirty-odd teenage girls squealing with excitement as they crowd onto the dancefloor in threes and fours. The too-cool-to-dance girls bop and bounce their heads, the popular girls perform like they are at home in their bedroom mirrors or the Superbowl Half-Time Show. Geeky and quiet girls sparkle joyfully under the disco ball, any lack of confidence forgotten by utter glee. Girl Power reigns supreme over Meadow Hill Middle School as the world-ending pettiness and hormonal squabbles of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds are soothed and solved by the bouncy vocals and practiced choreography. 

You watch the boys stand and stare from the sidelines, buoying each other up as they whisper about who they might ask to dance with later and playing down their nerves. You have seen first love and first heartbreak tonight, watching Andi Cooper sway with Brian W to Always Be My Baby as Danny D looked on with tears in his eyes. Poor kid. 

“D’you think they’ll riot if Just A Girl comes on next?”

Your head tilts back against the streamer-covered wall behind you and you can’t help a little smirk at the thought of Female Revolution fuelled by Gwen Stefani and the Spice Girls. 

“Mm, imagine the headlines. Ballroom Blitz - Meadow Hill reduced to ruins by festive female rage.”

He laughs and places a cup of punch into your hand, keeping an appropriate distance between your bodies as you survey the Snow Ball in full swing. 

“And that’s why you’re the English teacher. Such a way with words.” 

“Mm, nice use of sarcasm, Mr Harrington. Gold star.” 

The punch is not spiked, but your words sound a little barbed to the unfamiliar ear. All part of the fun. 

Speaking of the punch, there’s a hipflask in his jacket, full of some strong spirit that he will share with you once the kids have been picked up, while the DJ is packing away his kit. 

“Thanks, you’ve taught me well...” 

You look up, meeting his cocoa-coloured eyes, caught staring. His tone is less barbed, more sincere, and when he says your name - your teacher name - you feel fizzy and warm all over. 

Steve feels it too, a swirling spiralling drag low in his gut. 

It’s fleeting, too quick and far too much for where you are. Too heavy for a gym that smells like sweat masked by Tommy Girl & Victoria's Secret body spray, and looks like an explosion of blue and silver and glitter, festooned with polystyrene snowflakes.

You’re the first to look away, breaking his stare to make sure that revolution is not in fact being stirred up by girls in sparkly dresses and frosted lipgloss. 

Across the dancefloor, you watch Coach Farrell mouthing along the words as he keeps an eye on the aforementioned untainted punch. A perfect distraction from that moment of too much.

“Look at Farrell. Be subtle.”

Steve can just about hear your voice over the scream-singing and chances a glance at the veteran of Physical Education.

“Maybe he’s mellowing.” There’s the sarcasm again. He sips his punch and murmurs, “Asshole.” 

Your shoulders shake with laughter as Wannabe reaches its peak. You are more tickled by Steve’s candour than the spectacle of it all. So here’s the story from A to Z… Neither of you is immune to its catchiness as you watch your students create core memories.

If you wanna be my lover…

You catch each other’s eye again as the proclamation of Girl Power bleeds out. Your face feels hot, the fluttering feeling returns. 

Steve is the one to break it this time, sipping his punch to cool down what is threatening to boil over. 

It’s not just tonight, not simply because he looks hot in his navy blazer and slacks with his stupidly perfect hair. Not only because he helped you re-stick the streamers that had started to sag and fall before the night even began. Not because you caught him looking at the way navy velvet hugged your body, or because he told you looked ‘a million bucks’. 

This has been simmering for two years since he walked into the teacher’s lounge full of confidence and charm, sent searching for you by the administrator who promised the new History teacher that you would show him around. Two years of teaching next door to each other, pretending to be competitive about how your homeroom performed in the Readathon, using the playful rivalry to feature ‘nemesis’ as your word of the week with a picture of Mr H pinned to the board. 

Two years of sharing gossip and frustrations about the district and asshole parents over teacher’s lounge coffee and ungraded papers. Coming in early and staying late to help each other decorate your classrooms for the holidays, just because. Two years of pretending you were not stoking the fire of a crush bigger than the sun, and brushing off teasing questions from students and teachers alike. 

You were just friends, but it stung when you overheard he had a date planned for the weekend. You were just friends, but when you saw his arm around a pretty blonde at a bar one Friday night, you headed home early and hoped he had not seen you. You were just friends but you understood again why teens and poets were so dramatic about matters of the heart. 

You tried to close yourself off, became spiky and quiet to protect yourself from inevitable heartbreak. But Steve was persistent. When you stood him up for coffee for the third time, he delivered it to your desk with a homemade maple pecan muffin with ��Drink Me’ and ‘Eat Me’ tags as a nod to your seventh graders' reading assignment for the term. 

You let your friends set you up on dates with colleagues and cousins and made yourself unavailable. You found it harder and harder to pretend not to want to spend your shared-free periods shooting the shit with him. To see him looking a little bit lost without his work bestie for company, even when he fit in just fine with the other teachers.

So you gave in. 

You had seen first-hand how crushes ruin friendships; you saw it every day in your classroom and the hallways. You were too old for that and felt like a fraud standing at the top of your classroom teaching kids how to identify themes and literary devices and formulate an objective summary of a text while you were stuck on how Steve's hair looked today and the way he smiled at you in the parking lot.

You could get over yourself, choke down your feelings and mask the bitterness with his baked treats and teacher’s lounge coffee.

The olive branch came in the form of a mug festooned with the face of Abraham Lincoln and the words ‘That’s so four score and seven years ago’. There was also a whole box of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to sweeten the deal. 

His smile was brighter than the sun and his laugh echoed around the empty classroom. Friends again.

Things went back to normal but your crush could not be overcome. It only got worse as Steve became more charming, opened more doors for you and opened up a little more when you graded papers together. You found it easy to open up to him too. The simmering of something more than friends was threatening to bubble up and boil over.

This afternoon, you found a gift on your desk. Beneath blue and white snowflake patterned paper was a mug. 

‘Though she be but little she is fierce.’ 

Inside the mug was a note in Steve’s handwriting. 

Will you dance with me at the Snow Ball tonight? Yes / No. 

The note feels like it is burning your skin, tucked beneath your bra strap. He has been playing it supremely cool all night - you would expect nothing less from Mr Harrington - but you have caught him staring all evening, fleeting glances that the kids are too excited and distracted to see.

Wannabe is followed by the Macarena. You both watch on as the boys standing around the edges of the gym are herded onto the floor by Mrs Willis, who has hogged the mic and insists that ‘everyone knows this one!’

Shared laughter is smothered and hidden by cups of untainted punch, and it’s only a matter of time before both of you are pulled onto the dancefloor to join in. 

Over the music and Mrs Willis’s encouragement, you hear him mutter “Not what I had in mind,” as you fall in step with the student body who are totally mortified that their teachers are dancing.

You both endure almost four minutes of in-sync choreography before the DJ pulls the plug and transitions into All I Want For Christmas and you are free to shuffle to the sidelines again, side by side against the streamers.

The myrrh and amber notes of Steve’s cologne tickle your nose as you stand close. 

You have to do it now. 

Before you can chicken out, you quickly slide the note from its hiding place and into the pocket of his blazer and pray that no one saw. 

“I love the mug. Thank you.”

His eyes light up with more than the reflections of the silver streamers and his fingers wrap around the body-warm slip of paper. 

“Yeah? You’re welcome, I thought it suited you. And, y’know. Shakespeare.”

Steve’s back to playing cool, but beneath the surface the bubbles fizz and rise and the butterflies flap their wings. You can see it, feel it too. 

“And,” he continues, “I’ve seen you in action at those district meetings so ‘fierce’ felt appropriate. And I’m taller than you so…” 

His lips curve into a smile as you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah yeah, big guy. I can still change my answer on that note…” 

Mirth and mischief are replaced by relief, pure joy and a little hint of a scowl. 

“I’ll play nice. Promise.”

There’s an unspoken, “Will you?”

“I’ll play nice too. Just don’t step on my tiny girl-feet.”

Another look that is both too much and just right is held between you for just a few moments. 

“Find me later, Mr. Harrington.” 

Steve watches you swish away, swathed in deep blue velvet and your dancing shoes. 

Later on, when the hall is clear of students and chaperones, when the hipflask has been opened and shared, he will spin you under his arm and watch you glitter beneath the disco ball.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed!! Comments, reblogs and likes are loved, adored and stored in my heart!

[zoloteh-volossya]

Some Thoughts on Minthara

A repeating theme of all of the Origin companions is that what they think they want at the beginning of the game is a result of their fucked up pasts and is ultimately bad for them. Shadowheart wants to be a DJ, but that cuts her off from the potential to grow beyond Shar and loss. Lae'zel wants to Ascend, which would obliterate her in her entirety. Karlach would rather die than go back to hell, but dying cuts off the potential continued life she may find thanks to that Infernal Forge. Astarion wants to Ascend, which locks him into a cycle of violence, power, and fear. Gale has two failures of goals - first to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness, then to Ascend (which hollows him out of all the originally noble intentions he had going into it). Wyll wants to serve, no matter what the cost to himself - which would lead him to stay pacted to Mizora when freedom beckons.

All of these initial goals stem from the environments/abuses that the companions are coming from. And they're all understandable! But they're unhealthy and/or maladaptive, and so in order for every Origin companion to get to their best/happiest ending they need to change and grow away from what they initially thought they wanted due to the influence of their pasts and personal flaws.

Minthara, when we meet her under her own free will, has abandoned Lolth but not her attitudes. She seeks love, yes, but also seeks any sort of power she can get her hands on with a desperation borne of fear. She cares deeply for Karlach and Lae'zel and reluctantly for Astarion, Shart, and Gale, but is willing to enslave them all as she herself was enslaved if it makes her Top Dog. Her ideal ending is codependent evil power couple with you, controlling the brain - and I think that's her 'bad' ending, akin to Ascended Astarion or DJ Shart.

Basically, I think there’s two sides to her. There's the side that desires genuine connections and is willing to go to hell for Karlach even if unromanced... and the side that chases power even if it means doing things like enslaving Karlach. She wants purpose (per her dialogue upon leaving Moonrise), a home and friends (per her dialogue when leaving the party), and protection (per her dialogues with the player). I think if she was able to obtain those things through sources other than trying to conquer Menzoberranzan/the Sword Coast she might be able to express the former side of herself more.

We see a bit of that in her Karlach romance, where she throws aside all concerns of seeking power to go to hell for her girlfriend. She doesn't talk of conquering or ruling Avernus - her focus is purely on vengeance for Karlach. It's an interesting reevaluation of her priorities and also why I like her pairing with Karlach so much.

As a side character, she doesn't get a questline and arc like the Origin companions get. But I think that it is notable that her happiest ending seems to be staying in Baldur's Gate. In her epilogue dialogue with Origin!Lae'zel she confesses that she is not happy if she pursues reconquering Menzoberranzan, and harbors doubts about her ability to succeed.

Because ultimately - as Ascended Astarion shows - pursuing power and conquest does not actually make you happier or safer. It just means a life dominated by fear. Lolth's treatment of the drow - and thus the drow treatment of each other - has been compared by writers of canon D&D novels to an abusive relationship. And like so many other survivors of abuse, Minthy is out of the immediate situation but still carries that way of thinking worn into her psyche, like ruts in a road.

She’ll never be “nice” or even necessarily “good,” but I’d like to think that over time, in the right environment, she can leave behind most of the self destructive power seeking of the Lolthite mindset. Move on from the toxic patterns of her past, as the Origin companions get to do in game.

[bitchslapblastoids]

I think people tend to forget that DNP were actual live radio DJs and professional presenters for big mainstream events for years. It's been a while since so it's nice to see them guest in these kinds of things and be reminded that damn yeah, these guys are pros and can carry themselves and a conversation and be professional and articulate and charming. And they honed these skills over the years on their own youtube careers. Add the fact that they're much more comfortable in their own skins, and they're better than ever. (plus it's crazy to be reminded that Dan all did those professional things in his early, early 20s)

yeah I have been thinking about that too. They didn’t have much time to bumble rly, because the audience got huge fast and then the more high stakes opportunities started coming in fast, and how could they say no? they definitely learned through experience in a bit of a sink or swim way, but I do imagine they also got some media training from the bbc. And I mean, now they’re signed to a talent agency, have had loads of varied experiences, and had to become very adept at thinking on their feet in live environments (radio show, presenting bbc awards, vidcon type panels, their own stage shows, all their virtual liveshows, m&gs honestly, and so on and so on). Their crowd work is also always such a great example of how well they work with others.

I guess also a difference between them and someone from the mcyt world may be that a lot of d&p’s success was built on the very foundation of their charm, personality, and chemistry, whereas as I understand it, a lot of the mcyts’ success was built on their gameplay and commentary? so there are some fundamental differences there too in personality, appeal, relationship with audience, and communication styles. But yeah they are better than ever and it’s in beautiful stark display here 🥹

[all-for-the-game-confessions]

as a french, i did not realise i was saying Jeremy's name with a french accent. so when Jean said it and Jeremy short-circuited i was like what do you mean there's a french way to say it ??? what's the american way then ???? i first thought it was about the R, and i had to pronounce Jeremy's name out loud multiple times, in different accents to understand that it's mostly about the J.

i did not know that it was supposed to be pronounced [dʒ] ("dj") this whole time

it's a softer sound in french, there isn't the "d" sound at the beginning ( [ʒ] )

so it's like "zheremee" instead of "djeremee"

Also, Jean is from Marseille, he has a southern french accent. It's one of the most pronounced accent in french. Forget about monotonous french, it has a more sing-songy intonation, they roll their R a bit more and they add a "gn" sound at the end of certain words ("pain" (bread) is said "pahn" were i'm from, but "pahng" in the south).

try to look up how it sounds, it's very specific

that's it for my languages/accents rant, have a good day and be nice to people !!

.

[zumicho]

MOUSETRAP! ← IWAIZUMI / AKAASHI SMAU EP6: FIRST NAME BASIS (BASE) ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ + WRITTEN⋆ ･

cw: swearing, innuendo, oikawa

｡･ﾟﾟ･ WRITTEN PORTION BELOW ✧･ﾟ: *

he’s right. it’s empty.

haji’s words during the drive repeat themselves to you :

“i like this beach because it’s almost never crowded. quiet place with a nice view, you know? gets you a break from.. everything else.” to which you hummed in agreement, cracking a joke about the french fry smell in his car—secretly thankful for the food he brought. you’d never actually thank him though, not if you had to trade that with the pink flush creeping up his cheeks as he stutters over his explanation.

it’s hard to believe you’ve never met before; you click so well. you wonder why you’ve never bumped into each other.

his biceps flexed as he skillfully ripped a paper bag into a mat for your dinner. those can’t be just for show, your breathing slows. the worn in white tank he threw on rounded out the perfect effortlessly hot & sexy raw lifeguard look and HELLLL IT LOOKED GOOD ON HIM!!!!!!! ok now back to being poetic & literate

in the distance, a group of friends gather for a game of beach volleyball. following your line of sight, iwaizumi pauses mid sentence and nudges you gently with his elbow. “you play any?”

you shake your head, laughing,

“not as good as my brother.”

you’re already getting up.

— FACTLIST!

• this is my favorite ep so far :D not rlly a fact

• bokuto ate yn’s portion in hotpot in her stead

• making up for the lack of iwa in my last chapter, here’s a written part for my (our) man <3

• he spent 15 minutes in kuroo’s closet asking him what to wear, facetimed oikawa too

author’s note: crying i want what they have +++ dear user eggyrocks if u see this I love ur posts more than anything and would gladly trade all my worldly possesions to keep bruised on the internet forever

TAGLIST — REPLY/ASK!

@needtoloveoutloud @rory-cakes @minaluvu @tenjikusstuff4 @cherrypieyourface @strawberrygloom1 @bows4life @suitstars @dreamsofnaughtiness

bolded didn’t work

yes my song choices are cracking me up let me have this

[angel-of-the-moons]

Ill Met by Moonlight

Khonshu x Fem!Stripper Moon Knight!Reader

Summary: You are Khonshu's Moon Knight. Although your "normal" job isn't what many expect from a superhero...

Nor does your god realize just what his presence means to your peers.

TW/CW: Reader is a stripper, Exotic dancing, strippers, lap dances etc. All the NSFW stuff that comes with that job, don't ask Khonshu where he gets the money because I don't know. Predator featured, but don't worry he dies :D

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This came to mind because I've been constantly thinking about the little AU that @drinkingwithkhonshu and I came up with in my little "Moonlight" post. I figured a nice way to wind down from the chaos of hurricane Helene, indulging my brainworm would be fun.

"And that concludes our little Moonlight's song and dance. Pretty as a painting, am I right, fellas?" The DJ said over the stereo system as you walked back behind the curtains.

Your set on stage concluded with a rather decent haul. Although you did have half a mind to kick one patron in the face when he threw literal nickels at you...

You sighed, pulling your mask down long enough to wipe the sweat off your face and adjust your hair beneath your hood.

Then, you reached down and adjusted the pasties covering your nipples--shaped like crescent moons--and re-examined yourself in the mirror.

Surely, not what many would expect the Avatar of an ancient god to wear in place of ceremonial armor, but.... Well. Sometimes video game logic worked in your favor.

Many of the cruel and evil men Khonshu dispatched you after often came to these clubs. You were an "amateur" dancer--meaning you would hop from club to club, working there long enough as a temporary hire to make pay but long enough to build a rapport with your targets before eliminating them for your god.

Your nose scrunched as you adjusted the ties to your g-string, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable in the scrap of clothing once again. You then slipped your fingers beneath the edges of your thigh-high platform shoes and let them loose with a soft snap! to your skin; the latex material hugging your thighs once more.

As you ensured your mask was securely in place, one of your fellow dancers, who went by the stage name "Khandi" (pronounced "Candy") walked up to you, her heels clicking on the glittery floor of he dressing room.

She wore a thin, sequined mini-dress that cut just beneath her bust line and was cut so short you could easily make out the panties she wore beneath.

"Hey, girl." She smiled at you.

You smiled back. You always treated the dancers with respect--male and female--because their line of work was dangerous as well as entertaining to many.

Which is another reason they were your preferred hunting grounds for you to dispense Khonshu's "justice".

"Khandi. What's up?" You asked curiously, leaning into the mirror to apply just a bit more silvery eyeshadow.

"Oh, y'know..." She snickered, leaning her hip against the dressing table, "Just that your usual guy is here. Again. And wants to see you. For another private dance."

Your hand stills and you look at her, "Again?"

Khandi grins and crosses her arms, "Mhmm. God, I wish he'd ask me to dance for him once in a while. Dude has it bad for you."

You rolled your eyes and laughed softly, "Mmm, if you say so."

"If she says so?" Another coworker, Mina grins, the shorter woman bouncing up to you.

"You're the only girl he ever asks a dance from. I swear, is he your boyfriend or something? Didn't picture you as the DILF-lovin' type..."

You sigh, trying not to laugh, "I--hah..."

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes again, "It's.... complicated? I'm not entirely sure how to categorize our.... situation."

You had some affection for him, sure, but--

Mina shoves your shoulder with a snort-laugh, "I knew it!"

Khandi grinned at you once again as you peeked out of the curtain to see a certain tall, bronzed, serious-faced man looking right at you, as if he knew you were going to look out at him.

He gives you a ghost of a smile, and nods his head ever so slightly, the slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes creasing a bit more, the silver in his dark hair and beard almost shimmering beneath the pulsing lights.

He then turns and dips into the private room, waiting for you.

Khandi grins and nips her bottom lip, "Ugh, okay, I don't normally like the older guys who come in here because they're creepy--but god is he hot! He's really rocking the silver fox look."

You roll your eyes and look at her as Mina snorts again, "Well, he's not my type, but he is kinda nice! One of the customers got too grabby with me after I told him I didn't want to dance because i was on a break, and your mysterious stranger over there practically twisted his arm off and walked him out the door!"

You smile beneath your shroud, "Yeah... Sounds like him. He hates it when people take advantage of others. Has a bit of a moral code, that one..."

"Oh, so you do know him more than just the occasional lap dance!" Khandi grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

You shove her playfully and walk past her, "And it's none 'o your business, nosey!"

You could hear the gaggle of giggling fall quiet behind you as the next song pulsed through the air, the base vibrating the floor beneath your feet.

Your hand closed around the knob to the room, and you swiftly closed it. The lights were a very very low shade of purple-red, pulsing in slow waves along the LED strips that lined the couches along the walls.

And perched oh-so casually on one of those chairs, was not the same man who walked into the room a minute prior.

He was no longer the tanned handsome older man who walked in; though he wore the same crisp, white suit.

Khonshu nodded his head to the side, his large bony beak sweeping a bit as he spoke, "Your most recent performance was interesting. Though I have a suspicion that many of those men's wives will not like the glitter you threw over the crowd."

He patted one of his gloved hands to his thigh expectantly at you, and you silently obeyed the request, walking with a slight swagger to your hips before you straddled his lap; your hands coming to rest casually on his chest as you smiled.

"Well, I didn't just name it the Starlight Shower for shits and giggles, old man." You tilted your head, "And besides, if their wives find out they're getting lap dances in some dingy club instead of staying home and loyal that's on them. My work is done. They deserve whatever fate they made themselves."

Khonshu laughed, "Or the occasional embezzler using his partner's money to hire companionship for the evening."

His hands found their way to your hips as you settled yourself more firmly in his lap, the soft fabric of his suit pants wonderfully smooth beneath the cheeks of your ass.

His hands slid over your curves, almost possessively as his beak brushed the side of your face gently, "Speaking of which...."

"Already taken care of." You hummed, rubbing your cheek along the smooth bone of his skull; "I left the fool with his pants around his ankles and his laptop open in the hotel room."

Khonshu hummed his approval--the man he'd sent you after was a predator--for both women and underage girls. You'd been impersonating a child in an online chat room for weeks, using filters to appear much younger than your actual age, slowly manipulating him into agreeing to meet you in a hotel somewhere.

From there, you met him in the hotel, smugly noticing how disappointed he was that you weren't some young girl; his disappointment morphing quickly into rage as he realized you intended to trap him.

He had told you too much, sent too much--confessed too much. He needed to cover his tracks. That's how he thought his night would go...

With him dumping your body in a drainage ditch, hoping to read in the news about some poor "hooker" being murdered by a John.

He didn't expect for you to fight back--let alone summon your crescent darts and fling them into his chest, taking the last to plunge it into his heart.

You staged the crime scene; used a USB to get past his laptop's security, and opened every single incriminating file--and you felt like your soul needed a cleansing at those images afterwards--and left out of the back entrance, letting your darts dissolve into thin air to further stage the crime scene.

It would look as if he was meeting one of the young girls he was grooming--perhaps a parent, guardian or older sibling got there first.... Perhaps they killed him in a rage at how he was abusing their relative.

They wouldn't know it was you he was meeting. Not with how you paid off the security officer to conveniently stage the cameras to be "down", and the clerk at the front counter to forget you were there, and to "forget" to have you sign in....

It went off without a hitch. You uncovered an illegal human trafficking program, and saved many lives. Both women and girls.

A wonderful dispensation of justice, and Khonshu was proud of you for how wonderfully you orchestrated it all.

You leaned back as you feel his large hands smooth over your cheeks, tugging your hips closer to his, "A wonderful job, my little Moonlight. There is another man here I want you to go after. He is the leader of a gang of criminals and they are intending to bomb a business that will not pay them for "protection". He holds many innocents under his thumb."

"I'm guessing he's the douche who likes to play grab-ass with the other girls when they walk by? The guy with the tattoo on his fingers?" You sighed.

"Yes." Khonshu said simply, not surprised that you already sniffed him out.

"All right. I'll try to get him away from his friends and "take care" of him. It'll be a little bit difficult, though. His cronies like to hover."

"You will figure something out." Khonshu hummed, his thumbs plucking the straps to your g-string almost playfully.

When you went to try and stand up, his hands gripped your hips once again and pulled you down; his voice dropping to a low timbre that was on par with the base that thumped through the walls.

"Where are you going, pet? I believe I hired you for a private dance, did I not?"

Unlike your usual methods of operation, you stayed at your current club. You'd grown a little attached to the girls.

Often coming to their defense and fending off clients who got too handsy or rough with them.

Once, a man had grabbed the youngest dancer, Millie by the wrists and yanked her into his lap; grabbing her so tight her delicate wrists bruised.

Khonshu had stepped in first--scooping his arm around Millie's waist and whisking her out of the man's lap--before you grabbed him by his greasy shirt and shoved him towards the door.

"She said no, you fucking pig." You snarled from behind your mask.

"You bitches 're paid to be sluts." He slurred, sneering at you. "Th' fuck she turnin' me down for? I got money!"

"We aren't hookers, you piss stain." You replied, eyes narrowing dangerously as your fists tightened.

"Now leave. Touch any of these girls again, and I will gouge your eyes out with my heels myself. Go home with the friend attached to your wrist--it's obvious the two of you are well-acquainted with each other already. You won't get lucky with a woman around here, anyway."

"You fuckin' bitch!" He barked, face red with rage as he lunged at you.

Despite wearing your clunky, impossibly high platform heels, you were able to deftly drop to the ground, sweeping out your leg and tripping him, making him smash his face on the floor and breaking his nose in the process.

You stamped your foot on his chest as he rolled over to glare up at you, attempting to staunch the flow of blood form his nostrils.

"You should go back to school." You sneer as everyone in the room laughs. "Or maybe take a kick-boxing class. I'm a stripper and I just kicked your ass in heels."

You grabbed him by his disgusting shirt and shoved him towards the bouncer, "Get this piece of shit off my floor."

After that, Khonshu got an even bigger reputation with the dancers in the club. He would sit in a booth, watching from the shadows. All of your coworkers knew Khonshu did not mind if they sat near him--he was a safe space. He would help protect them when they were on break; he would even ensure they hydrated and fed themselves after an exhausting performance.

It had gotten to the point where your manager usually waived any purchases he made--not that he needed or wanted to drink, but he had to keep up appearances--and the dancers began to bring him things.

Takeout, bottles of water... things like that would often accumulate around him where he sat.

Half of your coworkers didn't even find him attractive, but they all agreed he was hot simply for the fact that he was willing to keep them all safe--both the guys and girls--when others would simply say they "had it coming" for being strippers.

Those that did find him attractive were shameless flirts. They knew he apparently only had "eyes" for you, but that didn't mean they didn't want him to know just how attractive his chivalry and good looks were.

Khandi was probably the most shameless, she would plainly lay across his lap and chat his ear off as Khonshu's eyes tracked your every move in the club. She knew what he was doing, but lavished being in the attention of such an attractive customer.

One night, Khonshu had inquired as to what a "DILF" even was, and why Khandi and a few others had apparently likened him to one. You couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell him. You never did, and it annoyed the fuck out of him.

With every little thing left to Khonshu, every whisper of his name on the lips of your coworkers, you noticed his powers gaining in strength.

It took you only a few days to connect the dots--the things they were leaving, the "hopes" your coworkers would utter that he would be there if you couldn't defend them from some jerk in the night, the attention they were giving him...

You had doubled over on the couch next to him, kicking your feet with tears in your eyes as you finally realized what that meant.

He had followers again. Even if they weren't in the practical or traditional sense--

Khonshu had essentially became the god of the strippers.

And the mere idea of the situation had you nearly crying and gasping for air as you laughed and laughed, and laughed...

Until Khonshu had pulled you across his lap and growled rather impatiently,

"Impudent little... I guess you need to be punished now, hm?"

Khandi certainly noticed how you didn't want to sit down for a little while after you came out of that room--and how smudged your meticulously applied mascara was...

[marbledew]

HI NICE TO MEET YOU ANY INFO YOU NEED SHOULD BE IN MY PRONOUNS PAGE

also @123letsgobestie is my partner and the love of my life so don’t mess with her or I’ll behead you /srs

@aristarxs is my wife (ROMANTIC :D) and i WILL puke flames on you if you ever hurt her so back off /srs

@wet-leaf is my wife and doesn’t need me to defend her, but tread lightly. I’ll kill you if she’s hurt /srs

@djs-setdeck is my beloved robot girlfriend, death be upon thee if you dare even give her a look /srs

@nanochittle is my lovely amazing partner/spouse and I will brutally murder you if you dare even touch it /srs

@virtualcoffeemoon is the most adorable queerplatonic girlfriend and you know the drill- death if she’s hurt /srs

family:

kitty: @pink-fawning

✨ ex ✨: @theetherealraphael

mum: @thatoneaceidiot

siblings: @chocooolatte, @ilov3b00kss0much

children: elmery from @anotherdyingstar, Ellie from @the-artemis-sys, @theoretical-ink

friend that I have put on family level: @mayhem-moth

(spaceverse userbox by @bored-dromaeosaur and the best wife and robot gf user boxes are made by my lovely amazing wife, @aristarxs. thank you!!)