#even if its just 4 pixels of him

[randomfandomss]

Vincent Cardinal Benítez in every scene - Part 1 | Conclave 2024

[harrycinnamonbun]

focus - lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader

word count - 1.7k

summary - trying to get attention from your streamer boyfriend takes a turn

warnings - 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, nipple play, voyeurism/exhibitionism if you squint?

a/n - ik this is kinda overdone but the trope is so good... requests are open gimme ideas! masterlist here

4 hours. 

that was how long lando had been streaming for today.

gaming with his friends had become somewhat of a routine for your boyfriend, but you quickly grew tired of the monotony. it forced you to spend more time alone than you usually liked, as his fervent dedication abandoned you to your own boredom.

you lounged on the bed in your pajamas, a pair of cute tiny shorts and a tank top, hoping to grab his attention. a book was open in front of you, sitting neglected as your attention was drawn to the other side of the bedroom where lando was angrily yelling to his friends on the stream. 

“mate you were supposed to cover me! that’s why i died you freaking muppet!” lando threw his hands up in defeat, letting out a huff as his friends berated him for being shit at the game. 

you rolled your eyes at the interaction, finding it all too familiar. 

“landooooo,” you call out, “come cuddle for a bit, you’ve been streaming for a while.”

from afar you can see the influx of chat comments greeting you at the sound of your voice, the fans happy to even just hear you. you giggled at that as lando mutes his mic and turns his chair around to face you. 

“baby, i’m just gonna play one more round and then i’ll be done, promise” he says, flashing you a grin and turning back towards the screen, unmuting his mic. 

“thats what you said an hour ago…” you grumble underneath your breath. at this point you had enough, you needed to get his attention somehow. sitting up straight, you looked around the bedroom to think. a sly smile spread over your face as you eyed the empty space under his desk, just the right size for you to fit under. 

maybe if you annoyed him enough, he would fuck you until you couldn’t walk. it was worth a try. 

you quietly slid off the bed and onto the floor, crawling over to lando slowly. you were careful to keep low, avoiding his webcam and the thousands of people observing him rage about pixels on a screen. 

he looks down at you quizzically as you nestle yourself under his desk. sliding to insert yourself between his legs, your finger rises to meet your lips motioning him to be quiet. 

you smile mischeviously as you edge your fingers up his leg, tracing up to his thighs as he draws in a sharp breath. he gives you a warning look, eyes following your movement like how a predator tracks its prey. 

“what are you doing?” lando whispered, his voice faltering a bit as your hand ghosted over his now prominent bulge. you stifle a laugh as you watch his expression turn from panic to lust.

just the idea of you giving him head while he was streaming made him hard, and the feel of your fingertips lightly touching his length through his shorts did nothing to help. lando gulps and tears his gaze away from you, eyes focused back on the screen in front of him as max yells in his headphones. 

his attempt to stay calm was futile as you began to palm over his dick, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his shorts. lando bit his lip to suppress a moan, fingers still moving over the controller. 

you decided to take it a step further to see if you could break his concentration, pulling down his waistband to release his throbbing cock. his tip was already leaking as you stared at it, flicking your eyes up to his startled face before you sealed your lips around it sucking lightly. 

lando threw his head back, letting out an involuntary groan.

“you alright there mate?” max asked lando in a concerned tone. 

“yeah yeah,” he replied, clicking his camera off. “just uh– having some trouble with the webcam.” 

you felt a rush of adrenaline as you took him further into your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as he hit the back of your throat. you moan around him, his hands immediately flying to your hair and pulling lightly.

lando groans again as you bob your head, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft as you come up. he looks down at you with dark eyes, clearly paying attention now. 

you looked so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“hey max,” he choked out into the mic, “i’ll be back again later i uh, think i left the oven on.”

“mate you don’t even cook-” max was cut off as lando ended his stream, ripping his headphones off in a rushed manner. 

he immediately let out a louder moan, no longer restricted in his reactions to your lewd movements. his pupils dilated with lust as you moved faster, the obscene sounds of your mouth edging him further and further. 

lando abruptly pulls you off of him, guiding you out from under the desk to straddle his lap. the chair was stable enough to hold the both of you but you still gripped his shoulders for comfort. 

“you wanted me so bad huh baby? couldn’t wait ‘till i was done?” he whispered into your ear, running his hands up and down your soft thighs. 

you let a whimper as you grind against his hardness, hoping for some relief on your aching clit. “just wanted you to focus on me.”

“oh i’m completely focused now,” he assures you, pulling your shorts aside finding you bare, instantly starting to rub circles on your bundle of nerves, “no panties? you planned this to happen.” you whine out, feeling the heat in your core building as you move your hands to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

lando continues his assault on your clit, moving his fingers tantalizingly slow. he craned his head to place small kisses on your neck, tracing a path down to your collarbones and stopping at the neckline of your tank top. he moved his hands up to grope your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples, hardening from the stimulation under the thin material. 

“mmm my naughty girl, did you want everyone to hear you choking on my cock? tsk tsk tsk– what would they say” he chides as he tugs your top down, leaving it to pool at your waist. he was almost salivating at the sight of your tits, the supple skin inviting him to have a taste. 

you could only croak out a small “yes” in response as he dipped down to capture one of your nipples, the wet heat of his mouth making your brain go fuzzy. lando sucked lightly, running his tongue over the sensitive peak as he pinched your other nipple gently between his fingers. 

“lando”, you panted out, “please– need you.” he raised his head from your chest to capture your lips in a deep kiss, caressing your tongue with his. 

you just wanted to feel him. all of him. 

“alright baby i’ll give you what you want,” he said with a smirk as you lifted your hips to hover over him. you pulled your shorts aside again, exposing your wetness to the cold air of the room. 

his hands lingered on your hips to help guide you over his painfully hard cock, feeling his tip nudge between your folds. your entrance welcomed him as you sank down on his length, your head falling back in pleasure. 

his hold on you tightened, fingers gripping so harshly on the flesh they would surely leave a mark. lando relished in your flustered state, examining how your lips parted in bliss, eyes squeezed shut while trying to adjust to his length.

 his own mouth fell open at the sight of you, a low groan escaping him at the feeling of your wet walls embracing him deeper and deeper until his tip finally kissed your cervix. 

you began to bounce up and down slowly,  lando’s strong arms assisting your movements. you leaned onto his shoulders for support, your head falling down into the crook of his neck as you both gasped and moaned at the pleasurable feeling of him hitting the deepest parts inside you.

“lando,” you whined out, speeding up your movements as the noise of slapping skin filled the room. 

you were panting harder now, your thoughts only occupied with the feeling of him inside you. your clit brushed against him every time your hips met, sending shocks through your body. the familiar feeling of your orgasm loomed in your core, threatening to overtake you very soon. 

“c’mon baby take what you need,” lando groaned out, helping you pick up your pace, thrusting his hips up to meet yours now. you could tell he was getting close too, your bodies moving urgently in tandem to reach your highs simultaneously. 

“almost– ah, there! please lando,” at your plea he reached down between your legs, rubbing your sensitive nerves to finally send you over the edge. 

your orgasm crashed over you, sending waves of shocks through your body as your movements slowed down. you cried out for him, his name the last thing leaving your lips as an immeasurable bliss took over. lando kissed your neck tenderly as he gripped you harder, stabilizing you as he rammed into you faster. 

“fuck baby you’re doing so good, im almost there. such a needy girl, had to have me right away.” he flashed a glowing smile at you as you came down from your high, his hands pawing at the flesh of your ass as he fucked you deeply. 

his breathing grew ragged at his eyes screwed shut, breathing your name out with a moan. his release was warm inside you, filling you up as his hips stuttered and slowed. 

you sat like this for a minute, still joined, recovering and whispering sweet things into each other’s ears. lando kissed your shoulder as he pulled out of you, a whine leaving your lips at the absence of him. 

“maybe i should stay on the stream longer if this is what it gets me,” lando joked, seeing how much he could annoy you. 

you hit his shoulder playfully in response, “absolutely not! but honestly, max probably thinks you burned the house down by now.” 

“ah– i’ll deal with that later. all i’m focused on right now is you.” 

[f14fun]

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 1

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

yourusername:

liked by user1, user2 and 18,102 others

yourusername: the infamous sims 4 tutorial is official out on yt 🔐😈💟 (pls guys u spammed my dms so hard for this one i was SWEATING editing 🙄🙄)

view comments

user1: QUEEEN TYYY FOR THIS VIDEO

user2: me when y/n releases a new video 🫠🫠😵💦💦

yourusername: now... ayo...

yourusername: (in the dms only, we talked about this guys...)

user3: pookie your so hawt hahaha (viscerally sweating)

yourusername: just u, babes xxx

user4: LMFAO in the video where she goes "wow, i didn't know you could make boobs this big in cas (create a sim), huh..."

user5: HOLLERINGGG, she said that?! ☠️☠️

user4: YUPPP. then she preceded to say, "mmm, mommy milkers"

user6: she is not real this is insane 😵😵😭

user4: what makes it even funnier is that there is always some type of smooth jazz playing in the background, so every time she says unhinged shit its accompanied with the most nonchalant whatever music 🫨🫨

user7: literally this is why she is my fav simmer ytber 4 reallz

liked by yourusername

user8: DID YOU GUYS SEE MAX WATCH HER VID ON STREAM LMAO??!

user9: OMG YES I DID IT WAS SO FUNNY

user10: wait pls fill me in max who

user10: is he some gamer?

user8: LMAO not really ☠️

user8: we r talking about max verstappen, he's an f1 racer who occasionally games

user9: tbf he seems to game and sim race more than he actually races 😭😭😭

user10: ahhh ic

user10: wait so then what was he doing watching mother y/n's video 👁️👁️

user8: he was trying to learn how to play the sims 4, so ig he clicked on the first tutorial on yt and it j happened to be her video 😍🫠

user11: omg it's the girl max watched on stream yesterday, she was hella funny im ngl

user12: wait yeah, she's so pretty in this post

user13: GIRL MAX WAS SIMPING OVER U SO BAD YESTERDAY

user14: FR DOWNBAD.

yourusername: max you say... drop his @ 😁😁

user13: @/maxverstappen1

user15: girl you are NAWT ready for the shit u r ab to go thru w the formula one community

yourusername: wait he's a formula one racer???

user15: GIRL PLS GOOGLE HIM I BEG

user15: UR GOING TO LEARN SM AB UR FUTURE HUSBAND

user17: HUSBAND? let's gatekeep our wife, shall we

user18: @/maxverstappen1 @/maxverstappen1 @/maxverstappen1

user19: @/maxverstappen1 i found the woman of ur dreams 😈

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part two will be out sometime within the next week, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[curlyfriesgalore]

curly can't sing.

as the title says, it's a headcanon i randomly had when playing my mouthwashing sims 4 household (lol), where swansea and curly went karaoke-ing at 'waterside warble' in san myshuno. curly sang horrendously since he just gained the skill. though, it made me think, how funny would it be if curly genuinely couldn't sing for shit?

it's the one thing jimmy has leverage over (he's no better, really), and curly is painfully aware of his tone-deafness, so he never reveals it unless it's for a special occasion... with an extra special someone there to watch him perform (miserably).

that being said, daisuke suggested the crew do something fun to celebrate the completion of their shipment, so why not do some karaoke?

★ a sfw one-shot broken down into bullets with chat-format segments for dialogue. fair warning, there are a few suggestive moments, but the implications aren't overt. [2,817 words]

☆ gen tags: set in 2005. gn! reader who is a doctor and a great singer. none of the game's events happen, so they're just a bunch of folks doing regular space deliveries, but jimmy is still an upleasant ass that gets on the reader's nerves. reader and curly are crushing on each other (they're on the brink of knowing it's reciprocal). manfailure curly but he's trying his best... whatever that best is (lmfao, accurate to canon 😭). curly -> grant (name switch at some point in the fic). there's one moment where curly and reader share a glass, so just letting you know in case you're not a fan of that :)

[i'm still on break, but i wanted to write something more concise and improvised in under a day! and i won't lie, i find fics including everyone to be so fun to write. i really love testing out my characterizations of the crew and have them interact in relaxed scenarios. art by kafukafukadayo on twt. —iris🌠]

while you bask in the dim hues of red lights, the instrumental of an electropop softens into silence as it tandems with your pants. when you peel your eyes open, everyone's gaping their mouths and raising their brows—even jimmy, ever the unimpressed, is surprisingly taken aback, and you're taken aback by that alone.

daisuke springs from the leather sofa. he bounds towards you, grips both your shoulders, and shakes you senselessly, his hand still somehow clutching his open flip phone.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"doc, that... was... INSANE!" he jostles your body back and forth between his pauses, swaying you with all his might as he nearly forces the microphone to drop out your hand. daisuke swishes his head, finally letting you go, "wh—buh?! how do you—are you imogen heap reincarnated?!"

anya snorts, sounding like a stuffed trumpet. "dai, imogen's alive! she's only 27." swansea follows suit, his deep chuckle rumbling through his belly, crossed arms resting atop. "pfft, that's far from dead."

daisuke rolls his eyes away from the two, "tch, you get what i mean! like, look—!" he speedily dials the buttons on his phone, opening his gallery and brandishing a pixelated clip of you singing along to the mbira melody and string bass beats, the crunchy electronic syncs with your ethereal mezzo-soprano. daisuke snaps the phone shut with his palm, raising his free hand in surrender. "if that's not the lead singer of frou frou, then i don't know who is." he takes the remote, looking through what next to sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

amid the nurse, mechanic, and intern belting their lungs out to "hey ya!" curly sits, and you stand before him. his ocean eyes swim in awe as he cranes his neck to face you. you're glowing. your head perfectly aligns right in front of the carmine light; its luminescence filters around your shadowed outline, like you were some angel graced from above with an even more angelic voice to come with. it was sort of comical how the largest man in the room felt so small beneath your presence.

there's a dew of sweat hanging below your bottom lip, and curly can't help but bite his. that is until he slips his teeth back in when you cushion yourself onto the couch, spreading your legs wide with an arm lounging on the headrest behind him. curly huffed a laugh and leaned into the shiny sofa, letting his scalp fall onto your forearm.

even with your tongue tucked inside your parted lips, curly could practically see your papillae beg for freshness. he smiles, momentarily stretching his back away from the couch to grab your drink and hands it to you. a raspy thanks escape your parched throat.

your neck bobs with every gulp, drinking like it's the last you'll ever taste water. curly tries his hardest not to let his gaze linger longer than it should, but the way your head tilts back and your hand grips the glass, he can't help but swallow some of that imaginary water himself.

a contented sigh leaves you. you flick your eyes to him and just about see the last of his adam's apple slurp up nothing. you gesture the drink, asking if he wants it. curly is briefly hesitant until he turns to see his empty cup and shrugs, "sure, why not?"

as curly takes his sip, he notices the beaded sweat shining on your lip more notably than before. his brows raise ever so subtly, ruminating his next moves. when you still fail to realize the wetness glistening at your mouth's rim, he pulls the drink away from himself.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hey, can i...?"

your eyes widen softly as you watch his thumb inch toward your jaw. you flick your view down, puffing out your lower lip to see a dab of sweat cling onto you for dear life. you look back at him and nod. curly gently takes a hold of your chin, thumbing the sudor away while his remaining fingers brush against your neck. you take in the moment, eyes half-lidded and lips ever so parted. he wasn't glancing at you, but you could tell he wanted to, for his warm breath quiets the longer you study him—noticing the way his tongue peeks out his mouth or how his golden greying hair falls over the wrinkles etched into his temple. "you know," moments before he drops his hand, he finally manages to look you in the eye, your faces merely inches apart. "your performance really gave me chills." you smirked, "is that why you didn't speak up?" your tease brought curly to a laugh, the bass in his voice strong. "i can't help but be mesmerized when that's how you sing, doc."

you hummed a titter, nodding to yourself as you thanked him with a delicate smile. "you can drop the formalities, grant. we're at a karaoke bar, not the tulpar."

whether or not you noticed the hitch in his breath, grant softened upon hearing his first name, oftentimes forgetting that's who he actually is. his head tilts down, blithely sighing before picking himself up to show you his grin, "okay, okay..." he momentarily chuckles, now resting his elbow on the headrest, propping it up, and leaning onto his knuckles next to your arm still lying there. "well, my point still stands. you have an incredibly captivating voice, y/n." "oh, stop it...!" you both become a blushing, giggling mess. your other hand finds its way to rest on your knee, which sits right against grant's. as you speak about your singing history, grant brings his free palm to his thigh, pretending to unintentionally graze his calloused fingers against your nails. he listens intently to how you'd belt out your favorite songs on repeat, albeit the sound of daisuke and anya screaming, "HEEEY YAAA!" and the tidbits of exhaustion lingering in his mind make your words muffle into incoherent jargon.

"but enough about me, i wanna hear you." you catch his eyes snapping away from both his and your legs smushing together, hoping you don't notice the blankness in his brain. "or are you just charming me to stall your big reveal, hm?"

grant's jaw falls, and utterances of filler words filter out his mouth, but before he can respond, daisuke catches wind of their conversation as outkast's song dies down in the background.

"oh, yeah!" daisuke takes a swig of his soda. after a sigh of satisfaction and couple of lip smacks, daisuke leaps from his end of the couch and motions to the two, microphone in hand. "it's your turn to solo, captain!"

"uhh, i don't know if i should..." grant sheepishly waves the mic away, his eyes shifting between everyone's expressions. daisuke is pouting and pleading with puppy eyes. anya just gives him a thumbs-up and a classic comforting smile. swansea is indifferent. jimmy, who's been leaning against the palm tree printed wall for the past four songs, beer in hand, grows an all-too-familiar smirk. then there's you, expectantly looking at him with overlaid eyes he wishes to see in a different setting... that of his bedroom—

"aww, why not, curl? we've done our parts. 's only fair you do yours, too." jimmy's tone was far from welcoming, sounding more like a jab than anything. you narrowed your sights at him, "didn't you only sing in the group ones?" jimmy shrugs. "look," after taking another chug of his can, raising his hands in defeat. "my karaoke quota's been filled. sorry." you simply roll your eyes. before the tension thickens, daisuke interjects, "ah, don't worry, cap. i bet your voice sounds super cool, like superhero cool! you've got that gruffness that swan's got... but y'know... less croaky n' stuff!" "'scuze me?" swansea lifts a single brow, anya stifles a laugh, and daisuke flails his hands in defense, "eh- i mean it as a compliment! you've got a sick voice, swansea." "emphasis on sick..." anya cheekily comments under her breath, and for the first time in forever, swansea's jaw drops. he coughs out a laugh that's been lodged in his throat for god knows how long and shakes his head, pointing his thumb at the giggling woman. "wowww, aren't you, the nurse, supposed to be fixing that?" anya nods to you, "only under doctor's orders." the two have a back and forth, but daisuke still stands in front of grant, intent on lending the mic to the man.

"i—okay..." grant crumbles under the pressure, caving in when you whisper a couple of encouragements. daisuke cheers, anya claps, swansea bobs his head in support, jimmy fakes a whoop, and you—genuinely—hype him up with a holler.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

grant purses his lip as he presses the buttons on the remote while daisuke guides him through the songs on the screen.

jimmy leaves his spot, his boot denting a scuff mark on the wallpaper. your nose flares, watching him carelessly toss the can into the bin as he makes his way to sandwich you between him and swansea, purposefully maximizing the width of how far he can stretch his legs.

you ignore him, opting to watch someone much cuter. grant turns to you, awkwardly smiling as you return a thumbs-up. he focuses back on daisuke, who's now raving over a song he definitely thinks grant should sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you know he's shit, right?" your brows contort into a furrow, still not looking at the man. "the fuck you mean?" you never had much patience for jimmy, of all people, so your courtesies never fail to fall short with him. "you know who i mean—him." jimmy gestures to grant, pointer finger flicking at the blond. "no shit, sherlock. i'm saying, what are you specifically referring to?" "obviously, his voice, sherlock." he drawls the two syllables, the stench of yeast and malt oozing out of his mouth and into your unfortunate nose. "he'll make your ears bleed, trust me." finally, you face him and stare at jimmy's smugness with an incredulous squint. seriously, how the fuck does grant put up with him? you couldn't even stand the guy's presence, let alone his incessant insults on grant himself. "do you do anything but complain?" you sneer. "nope." jimmy curtly replies, mouthing a pop after the 'p' as he claws a hand over the chips bowl, stuffing his face with grease. at this point, you weren't sure if you should stay annoyed or be slightly impressed with his sheer ability to find the worst in everything. "some fucking friend..." you say to yourself, already past the point of defeat. with his mouth still full of food, jimmy responds, "hey, as his friend, i'm actively warning you. i've known this guy long enough to be there for his first choir class." "whatever, we'll see." you huffed, relaxing on the couch, sitting much closer to swansea than the other. "it's not like you've got much credibility, anyway." you think back to moments ago, whenever it was jimmy's turn to sing his parts, his half-assed attempts barely constitutes as a grumble. jimmy snickers, "who says i'm denying that? just 'cause i don't care doesn't mean i'm wrong."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you have never been more relieved to hear a soft pop interlude, forcing the conversation to a close.

daisuke flops onto the sofa next to anya and flips open his phone, pressing record as the tv flashes the music video to "shape of my heart." you lean behind swansea and lock eyes with daisuke, who abashedly giggles when you mouth, 'you chose this, didn't you?' to which he nods excitedly.

ah, daisuke, ever the avid backstreet boys fanatic.

your eyes fall back to grant. the man fidgets with his microphone, and his shoe frantically taps to the beat, pursing his lips into a tight smile in hopes it will clench down the shivers rising with the guitar strums. you silently cheer him on when he starts humming, following the yellow highlight filling up the white text reading ♪ yeah, yeah ♪, and—

oh!

...oh

oh, god.

jimmy... wasn't wrong, far from it, actually—as much as it pains you to admit.

the very moment grant hits that ♪ baby ♪, it's all downhill from here. it's as if his pitch took a trip to six flags. his questionably paced breaths mimic a ride with an unnecessary amount of loop-the-loops, and his tone flip-flops between a coarse rasp and an oddly airy twang, like a reverse bungee slingshotting into the air.

grant's eyes squeeze shut, facing away from the crew. either he was incredibly invested or excruciatingly embarrassed, and with how he was really getting into that chorus, nobody could tell. he only ever peeks to look at you, though, clearly awaiting your approval, to whom you always beam, your face mixed in pity and affection.

as much as he sounded like a crow was clawing its way out of his esophagus, you couldn't help but find his attempts to be really wholesome. maybe it's your pre-existing bias, and maybe it's because this feels like he's serenading every line at you, but it's hard not to fall for this vocal failure of a man—even though everyone else's expressions say otherwise.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"told you so," jimmy taunts in your ear, sickeningly chuckling at grant without hesitation. "woo! curly, you go, dude!" he cheers, voice dipped in mockery. all you do is click your tongue and face the others, choosing to listen in on anya and swansea. "you sure i'm the one that's 'sick'?" swansea jokes, albeit laced with genuine disgust. he leans to you, whispering the same revulsion, "you both need to rethink your careers."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

anya simply grimaces, trying her hardest to make it look like a grin, but her knit brows and frown give way.

daisuke's eyes say everything. they're wide, and his pupils constrict like he's a cartoon. his hand hesitantly grips onto his flip phone, unsure if he should keep the camera going. as his leg rapidly bounces and his teeth bite down on his paint-chipped nails, his gaze slowly turns away from grant's caterwauling and towards the rest of the crew.

moreover, you're just as guilty. although you're not irked by this newfound fact, a wince washes over you the moment you are out of grant's sights.

suddenly, after the first chorus, the song reveals a blue highlight painting the white text. grant falters, his voice shrinking when he sees the two primary colors play different lyrics simultaneously. everyone takes notice, their faces easing from cringe to confusion. then it clicks.

this was a duet.

daisuke palms his face with a slap—that's his bad. you skim the room, and everyone's exchanging glances, implicitly questioning who'll aid their poor captain.

without hesitation, you jump to the rescue. snatching a mic from the coffee table and quickly singing your parts, striding your way towards grant, who immediately picks up where he's left off, still shrill as ever.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

♪ i'M hEre WIDTH myYy...! confEh shion ♪, in a sheer attempt at confidence, grant belts his lyrics. his dimples dig into his smile, sending you the much-needed energy to sing your lines. ♪ got nothing to hide no more ♪. you sway your head in accordance with the melody, ball up your fist, and let your fingers spread far and wide, wiping the air as you and grant's steps magnetize toward each other. ♪ i don't kNOw whe...rE to st-art ♪; warbling his words, grant's gaze softens when you're within arms reach. he lowers his neck, brings the mic close to his lips, and grazes your forearm, wishing he could feel the flush skin of your waist and reel you in. ♪ but to show you... ♪, as both lyrics meld into one, you take his hand into yours. ♪...the shA-pe of mY hEart ♪

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke bursts into song, singing the first line of the last verse, startling everyone in the process. anya joins in, now standing with daisuke as both pull swansea to his feet. the mechanic begrudgingly croons along to his intern's baritone and his nurse's soprano.

daisuke beckons for jimmy to come with him, but in classic jimmy zare fashion, he remains stagnant. the younger man frowns. though, he quickly reminds himself that there are only five members in BSB, anyway. so daisuke hands jimmy his phone instead, telling the co-pilot to make sure that everyone's in frame.

they've turned this into a concert for a one-man audience, who's hating every second of it.

save for jimmy, currently grousing under his breath, the crew wraps their arms around each other's shoulders and chants their hearts out to the R&B melody.

as the track nears its final moments, you and grant rest your hands on each other's waists, pulling your bodies close as your head leans on his pec. neither of you realizes that you've left the other three, who are all too busy rocking side to side to notice the two of you in a side embrace, minds too carried away to feel jimmy's prickly leer.

[oh my god, i genuinely didn't even intend for this ending, but here we are 🥹! i hope you guys liked this, and if anyone has comments on how i wrote everyone's dialogue and mannerisms, like what worked, or if you have suggestions for any additions, please let me know! i still need to learn more about writing anya, since in canon, it's hard to get a read of her real personality through jimmy's lens. still, so far, i like to think she enjoys teasing people she's comfortable with. as for swansea, i'm trying to lean into his meanness more, but i'm saving most of that for a daisuke fic centered on swansea's pov, so we'll see what i do when i get there! —iris🌠]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting 'part 2?' is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You sit at the dining table with your laptop, hiding behind the screen as you try to figure out what to do. How do you get this man to leave? Better, how do you do that without making him angry?

You stare at the unfinished project in front of you. You're not going to get paid for blurry pixels. Work is the least of your worries.

You peek over the top of the laptop and blanch as the subtle movement catches his eye. He grins and sits up, “need something, sweetie?”

“Uh, nope,” you put your eyes down and the screen goes fuzzy.

“Hm,” he hums into a grunt and heaves himself up, “you haven’t made any videos yet. What about your shopping trip huh? You gonna edit some of that.”

“Erm, maybe later, I have work stuff–”

“You know,” he nears and stands across the round table, looming menacingly with his hands on his hips, “you could probably quit all that if you committed to your streams. Lotsa people wanna watch a sweet girl like you.”

“That’s nice but I don’t even have ten followers,” you chuckle.

“Mm, maybe, but… I could help you,” he offers.

“Really, it’s fine,” your voice trembles, “it’s… it’s just a way to get my thoughts out, that's all.”

He clucks and clears his throat, looking around, “well, I guess I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Um, sure,” you look at him again then peek at the keys hung by the door.

He whistles, “Aika, come, you probably needa go.”

The dog rises from beside the couch and follows him to the door. You get up, heart flipping. You need to just lock the door. As long as he doesn’t–

He grabs the keys and shoves them deep in his pocket. He hooks the leash onto Aika’s collar as she stands obediently before him. He grins over at you, “don’t worry, sweetie, won’t be long at all.”

He turns and unlocks the door, swinging it inward as he lets the German shepherd lead the way. You deflate and fall back onto the chair. Holy shoot! What are you going to do? Nothing you can think of makes sense. He doesn’t make sense. It’s as if he really believes you know each other. That this is his home.

You bend over your lap and hold your head, rocking as you let out a drone. The panic is so bad you can’t hold it in. The noise escaping you is inhuman. You know you’re too weak, too afraid to do anything. So what? You’ll just let him take over your home?

You quiet and stay as you are, hunched over your legs. Are you going to let him do whatever he wants? To you?

Your blood runs cold and you sit up slowly. You’re dizzy as the silence rings in your ears. You stare across the room, only able to see a glimpse of the door frame.

You don’t know what you’re going to do.

You’re paralysed. You hardly believe it yourself, you don’t think anyone else will either. The thought of explaining it is embarrassing on its own.

You’re being stupid. You need to tell someone. Anyone.

You hear him before he enters. He opens the door, pausing as he lets Aika off the leash. She sniffs around as the door shuts heavily.

Sy appears, a large bag of kibble balanced on one shoulder as he carries a military duffle in his other hand. He drops the latter and brings the former into the kitchen. You stand, hollow as you make yourself move. You go to the doorway to the kitchen and watch him search your cupboards.

“Ladybird needs a bowl,” he says, “she’s hungry.”

“Oh,” you utter dumbly and blink. You’re stuck where you are.

His cheek dimples and he returns his attention to his search. He takes out the pink plastic bowl you use for salad and he uses a measuring cup to scoop out the kibble. You just watch as he puts it on the floor for Aika as she sits patiently.

He stands and she does too, eagerly scarfing down the food, flicking slobber all over your salad bowl. Sy faces you and you flinch as he comes near, reaching for you. You back away.

“Sweetie?” He says, “what’re you doing?”

“I… I…” you rub your arm, “how long are you planning on… staying?”

He scoffs, “what? Ah, come on, sweetie, you’re funny. “

“I’m… I’m serious,” you quaver, “I didn’t… we just met.”

His face falls and so does your heart. His expression turns dire and he crosses his arms. Aika seems to notice his shift and quits her loud chomping. She raises her nose, letting out a low growl. You gulp. He has that same glint in his eye as in the truck when he nearly rear-ended that other driver.

“Sweetie, I told you, I've been watching you all this time. You know, I was your first follower,” he takes a step closer and you take one back. “I know you.”

“Right, uh,” you push your hands together and bend your fingers back, “I understand, it’s just…” you can hardly breathe, “I guess I misunderstood. Of course you can stay, but… you know, I only bought enough groceries for me and… and it’s a small place.”

He considers you. He runs his hand over his beard and exhales loudly. He drops his other arm and tilts his head side to side, cracking the bones, “so we can get nice and snuggly, sweetheart.”

He nears you again, quickly, before you can elude him. He catches you around the back of the head and urges you close. He leans in and kisses your hairline. You freeze and let him. He purrs before he draws away.

“Right, I’ll get cleaned up,” he lets you go, “you can finish your work or… get cozy.”

You nod and stare past him. Aika once more chews loudly as your eyes settle on her straight back. You’re trapped. Your home is now a prison.

You stay like that until you hear the pipes whine and the shower buzzes to life. You glance over, the bathroom door slightly ajar. Mortified, you retreat to the table and sit behind the computer. You know the excuse won’t hold up much longer but you can at least pretend to be busy.

Aika’s claws tap on the tile as you hear her lay near the door. You can’t even run. His loyal guard dog isn’t just keeping people out, she’s keeping you in.

You put your hands on the laptop as you hear the faucet crank off. The scented steam seeps out and dampens the air with the scent of your strawberries and cream soap. You shudder and minimize and maximize the window.

You listen to him. He opens and closes the cabinet several times as he lingers in the bathroom. The door opens and your ears tinge as you focus on the laptop. He steps out as you swirl your fingers on the touch pad.

“I feel better,” he sighs, “how about you, sweetie? Maybe you should have a nice long bath?”

“I’m good,” you utter dully.

“Hope you don’t mind, I used your hairbrush,” he crosses the room.

“No, it’s f–” your eyes flick up on instinct. You swallow as your eyes round. He has only a towel around his waist, the rest of him brazenly bare. “Fine.”

You rip your gaze away and accidentally exit out of the editing software. You try to wipe the image of him from your mind. His thick muscles, the dark hair across his chest and stomach, and over his thick thighs. There’s little left to the imagination or doubt. The sight of him confirms his unbeatable strength.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“N-nothing,” you insist.

“You’re being all shy. What’s going on, huh?” You shake your head as he comes around the table. He presses the laptop shut until you retract your hands. You sit back and look at your hands. “You’ve been working long enough. Come on, sweetie.”

“I… I have a project to finish–”

“And that’s more important? How long have I waited to be with you? Over there in the sh– in the chaos?” He says, offering his large hand, “I got you something. I wanna show it to you.”

“I…” you rasp and peer up at his face, too afraid to look anywhere else. “Okay.”

You give in. Your surrender. He’s a soldier and he’s won the battle. You take his hand and stand up.

He takes you into the front room and leads you to the couch. He stops you in front of it and gestures you to wait. You do and he disappears around the other side of you.

He returns with his duffle bag and puts it in the chair. He keeps his back to you as he unzips it. You peek up and your eyes cling to the scars along his burly back. Just beneath his shoulder and another along his side. Through the fear, you feel a pang of sympathy for him. He must have been through a lot.

“I bought you something,” he says, “when I was driving up.”

He turns and shows you a dainty piece of fabric hanging from his index fingers. You gape at the pale pink bodysuit; flowers in a darker shade trim the corset and the tops of the cups are subtly scalloped. You love the colours but you would never dare to wear anything like that.

“Uh, wow,” is all you can get out.

“Just you know for a special occasion,” he smiles, “it’ll look real nice on you. It’s your colour.” He steps closer as he holds it out to you, “I showed the lady your picture and she said it would be nice on your skin tone.”

You feel like you’re going to faint. Is he really giving you a piece of lingerie? You take it and examine the thin material.

“Obviously, not tonight since we’re settling in and all that,” he chuckles, “but you know… if you wanted to…”

“I’m… I’m going to put this away,” you croak.

You move past him, slowly as if wading through water. You go to the bedroom and cross to the dresser. You stand before it as you stare at the fabric. Your chest aches as you hold a breath inside.

“Ah, still pretty tidy in here,” Sy comments from behind you.

You pull open the top drawer and hide the bodysuit. A shiver rolls through you as you shut it and turn to the intruder. You watch helplessly as he invades every inch of your life.

“You did such a good job, sweetie,” he praises as he nears the bed and plops his bag on it, “watching you clean… it’s admirable how determined you are.”

He reaches in his bag and takes out a stack of folded clothing. You blink as he strides over to the dresser and pulls open a drawer. You sway as you resist the urge to ask what the heck he’s doing. He makes room beside your clothes and shoves his inside.

As he stands, he adjusts the towel hanging lower on his waist than before. You turn away. As much as you don’t like him touching all your things, his nakedness is even more off putting. Most disturbing is his lack of self-awareness. Frankly, it’s frightening.

He unpacks, bit by bit, and rolls open the closet to put his empty bag inside. He goes back to the dresser to shut the top drawer he left open but his hand curls around the top. He dips inside and lifts out a pair of your panties; the ones speckled with printed on bows.

“I like these,” he says, “they’re cute, like you.”

“Thanks, I…” you murmur. “I…” Your mouth is dry and chalky, “I need some water.”

“Aw, sweetie, you look faint,” he drops the panties and approaches you. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He urges you onto the edge of the bed, his hands on your shoulders. He looks down on you as you tilt your head to peer back at him. He looks so big. He keeps his hands on you, gripping tighter, and for a moment, you’re not sure what he’s going to do and you think he is even less certain.

He pulls his hands away and shakes them out, “I’ll get you some water,” he says, “you had a long day, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum and lower your chin, your hands shaking in your lap.

You did this. You welcomed this man in. More than letting him drive you home or cross the threshold of your apartment, you put yourself online, exposed yourself to the public. You heard the horror stories before, the true ones, but you just never thought it would happen to you.

[choppedsouldreamer]

Guys some how I did even more doodles than last time, like 20- I THINK I NEED HELP NGL I NEED TO REMEMBER TO TAG EVERYONE GUHHH-

Sorry if these are kind of hard to see, I had to take them at a distance so my camera wouldn't automatically make the pics sideways for some reason- needed to migrate these ones to my bed this time since there is no room on my cooker, even if I did indeed cook again U-U This does include pixel art that is kind of hard to see what it is as well so sorry about that but this is my first time trying pixel art and I worked with what I had which was grid paper- (UGH THE PENCIL ONES ARE SO HARD TO SEE TOO MY CAMERA IS TRASH ;-;)

Full pic of all the doodles:

SMG3 doodles close up, Ik you asked for more SMG3 @roxy4life so here you go, eat up my friend:

My OC doodles with a teensy bit of lore hehe, oh and first ever drawing of THE CHILD!!!:

of course an autism creature because we all love this silly lil thing:

and last but not least, the creator doodles!:

@grinnames: here I go drawing this goober again ugh, in all seriousness though I love this guy, just look at him, all he wants is your body parts so why don't you kindly donate them ya silly? I would go on a tangent complimenting you again but I doubt you want that though, so just know you are one of my favourite creators :D

@tophatwearingidiot: hey look who it is! that's your design for my silly gal right there!! I was planning to draw my puffels for so long as you know but my brain constantly got filled and I forgot about it, so here, you got a doodle!! I WILL GET TO THIS I SWEAR UGGHHHHHH, both mentioned as my OC doodles and creator doodles lucky you

@tiredsmashbros and @its-a-me-mango: decided to do you two as two mini doodles together! you two are so damn awesome I love both your art so much AHHHHH, I wish I was as cool as you guys I swear and I love both of your characters so much so here's TSB inhaling a burger Kirby style and Mango just having to deal with his crap like usual and wishing he just got more money for it since TSB is just other worldly XD COOL ARTISTS RIGHT HERE!!! OH GOD DAMN IT HERE I GO DOODLING TSB AGAIN, TOMM HELP ME OUT HERE AND GET HIM OUT, MANGO EXTRACT HIM FROM MY BRAIN PLEASE

@michealscorneroftheinternet: oh boy did you get treated my friend, a meme and another doodle of Ink SMG4? damnnnn, all jokes aside I can't get over these designs, like your ideas are just insane to me and literally all your AU's are my favourites GOD HOW MUCH I LOVE THE UNDERTALE AU AND CHANGE IN SCRIPT AND FALLEN AU DB)SBD)SYVDSVFAD(F)- dude, tell me your secrets how are you this talented? /silly but true on the last part. You're constantly in my brain now too hahahah (HELP ME-) oh and I have a surprise for you! yeah, you thought that was it? haha...no..so you know those doodles of said ink and error 4 and 3? well I'm still thinking of those BUT, I have these as a substitute I'm working on since Ibispaint is up and running on my phone AHA! GET DUNKED ON WITH MORE ART YOU CAN NEVER BEAT ME /silly

I wanted to include more of my crazed AU and thought this was too perfect so had to do it, DID SOMEONE SAY PERFECT?!? /j

bro gets to not talk sometimes because he had chains around his neck YIPPIE!! (and hehe @theartistisme43 mentioned) that's if you can read my doodle handwriting lol, if not here it is (purple = SMG3 blue = SMG4)

bottom doodle: so you also had a run in with Mr Puzzles huh? Yep... So fuckin done with life

Top doodle (left): AYYYY!!!

Top doodle right: can't breathe sometimes and talk, knows how scarred 4 feels

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Danny, Security Chief

Part 2

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

Watching his team get shot all morning was starting to get depressing in Danny’s opinion. It’d started out pretty entertaining, but…

The security personnel had been split up into two teams, just as Danny had planned, giving them an even mix of officers in each. He’d appointed the highest ranking member the leader of team 2 and allowed them to train however they pleased in order to compare notes later. And taking a tip from Captain Skitch, Danny decided to test out his crew in the GRID.

Early into the Earth’s time as a GAIL member, the human race had gotten its hands on the Padrino’s environmental code, something they used for data storage if Danny remembered correctly. But when the Humans got a copy of it, they used the code for anything they could think of, and the greatest breakthrough that came of it was what would be known as the GRID, a totally holographic environmental simulation, used for anything from military training to video games. Amazingly, those two things weren’t that different these days. It’s probably what was fueling the Deathworlder rumors. It couldn’t be helping, to say the least.

Danny had booked the GRID environment room for training purposes, and at first the team had been doing alright, playing to their strengths. However, they didn’t seem to get how to work as a team, as a single unit. After the first round it had all be downhill from there if he’d been honest. He understood that it was just day one, but Danny figured if he could just get a running start, so to speak, then the rest of the mission would be smooth sailing.

The team filed out of the GRID and stood at attention. Team 1 was made up 2 Quintin named Ritz and Coola, siblings, a Doun from the same detail Danny had been in at the embassy on Earth named Homet, and someone from the ‘living stone’ species, the Sed, named Grite. The Sed weren’t actually stone, but they did have a rigid exoskeleton and massive calcium and keratin deposits throughout their bodies, giving them the appearance of gray marble.

All four stood in a line, awaiting their evaluation. Danny looked them over as he walked the line, hands behind his back.

“Anyone know what’s going wrong in there?” He asked. Grite stepped forward, looking annoyed.

“The setting are too high, commander. There are only 4 of us and dozens of them. It’s clearly a no win situation.”

Homet snorted, and Grite glared at him. Ritz and Coola took a step back to get out of the way. Danny hated to think this on just day 1, but Grite was being pretty detrimental to morale. Every round in the GRID he just ran out first and became a bullet sponge instead of even attempting to make a plan with the others.

“Ensign Grite, why do you think the simulation isn’t winnable? I’ve been in this exact situation before on Earth, and as you can see, I’m still here.”

Grite looked at him and snorted.

“Prove it.”

Danny was impressed at how fast Homet moved to the controls in his freezer suit, imputing new parameters into the machine.

Guess he kinda needs this, huh, Danny thought. Homet and he went way back, so he figured he knew the guy pretty well. He also figured a stiff like Grite would get on people’s nerves after a while, especially the Doun man.

“Homet, turn it up a bit too man, gimme a challenge.”

“You’ll scare them if you go too hard in there you know.”

“They can take it. Give them a show.”

Danny walked into the GRID simulator. The room was dark, save for a single blinking red light on the wall. A synthesized voice sounded from speakers built into the room.

[Simulation beginning in 30 seconds. Please select equipment.]

“E24, American Army Ranger standard issue.”

In a flash of ‘pixels’, Danny was wearing army fatigues, carrying a rifle in his arms with a pistol on his hip. Strapped to his flak jacket was a knife, a few extra magazines, and two grenades. He felt almost snug in the holographic armor.

A less synthetic voice sounded in the room, though it was a little more gravelly.

“Don’t like energy weapons commander? Got a little too much kick for you?” Grite sounded like he was smirking, Danny was calling it.

“Homet, if Grite talks again you have my full permission to shoot him. Now set the Pirate protocol to max and hit shuffle on my playlist.”

Homet laughed as he hit the button.

“Good luck commander.”

[Simulation: Pirate Boarding Party beginning in 10 seconds]

Danny took a deep breath, turned his hat backwards, and breathed out as the music started.

Dubstep.

Nice.

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

When asked later, the security team under Chief Ducane would say they didn’t understand what they saw. The simulation itself was simple, the Pirate Boarding Party dropped you in a random part of the Noah, under attack from hostile forces trying to take over the ship.

The part they didn’t get was that Chief Ducane tore through them like they were made of paper. First hostile came through a door 10 meters ahead of the Chief, and they were taken out before the door was all the way open, almost tore in half by the ballistic weapon he was wielding. Then a squad of three came from around a corner, but Ducane barely moved except to keep walking forward, loosing three short bursts from his rifle, felling the enemies the moment they came into his sights.

Another pirate came out of a door, using a simulated crew member like a human shield. That one gave pause to Danny’s advancement. He set his weapon down for a moment and put his hands up. The Pirate shoved the crew member aside and pointed their ray at him, but was immediately blown full of holes from Danny’s sidearm, old west style.

“Get to safety,” was all he said to the holographic crew mate, who nodded and ran off. Danny went back to work.

Wave after wave of hostile forces came out of the woodwork, firing holographic energy weapons and throwing ion or plasma explosives, and Danny Ducane destroyed them all. An entire platoon came at him and he barely slowed down. The security crew even questioned if their commander remembered this was only a training exercise, given that he was roaring and taunting the holographic enemies.

“Sister, do you think he knows they’re not real and they can’t actually kill him?” Ritz asked.

“Yes, I’m sure he knows they can’t kill him, brother,” Coola replied, in awe of the chief. “We are recording this, yes?” Her brother nodded.

“Haven’t seen him in a while,” Homet said. “He…he’s actually better than the last time I served with him.”

Grite said nothing, just a tight grimace on his stony face as he watched the simulation unfold.

Meanwhile, in the GRID, Danny had finally run out of ammunition, and there was one Pirate left. This one was bigger than the others, with better armor and a blaster. Danny threw down his rifle and charged, knife drawn, roaring like a berserker as he went.

The pirate shot high, clearly aiming for his head. Dimly, Danny knew someone, somewhere had said ‘humans only die if they get shot in the head’, and quietly laughed to himself that that little detail had made its way into the coding for the simulation. He’d seen the shot coming a mile off.

Danny dropped to his knees and skid the rest of the way, slashing the pirate’s leg as he slid past. The hologram howled and dropped to one knee while Ducane spun and buried the knife in the creature’s side, striking vitals. The pirate ‘died’ almost immediately. It dropped to the floor and evaporated into a cloud of ‘pixels’. Danny stood up, breathing hard, but grinning.

Hotem and the Quintins ran in, congratulating him, saying things like “Commander that was amazing!” and “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that!”

“That’s the ‘Ducane the Destroyer’ I remember,” Hotem said, clapping him on the back.

Danny noticed immediately that Grite was still in the control room, watching them. His face seemed conflicted. After a moment, Grite left the GRID all together.

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

It was almost the end of the shift when Grite made his way into Danny’s office. Danny had been eying the clock for a while by then, wondering when the Sed was going to come explain the request he’d put in.

Grite walked in through the sliding door and stood at attention.

“Ensign Grite, reporting.”

“Go ahead ensign, say your piece.” Danny figured he knew where this was going.

“You received my request to transfer to the other shift. I was not aware I was required to list a reason.”

“You’re not, but humor me anyway.”

The Sed had that conflicted look on his face again, and Danny now realizing it was more like apprehension. Possibly even…anger?

“It doesn’t seem necessary to have me on this shift, what with your…capabilities.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Sir, I really don’t think-”

Danny held up a hand to stop him. Grite’s body language was stressed, full of tension, even with the exoskeleton Danny could see the telltale shake of blood pressure rising.

“Grite, you don’t have to like me. Hell, you can even hate me if you want. But if you’re asking me to change personnel schedules for you after just the first day, you’d better have a good reason.”

Grits looked at him with clear disgust.

“I am Sed. We are Borin, Highest Peaks, bred to be warriors. We conquered our world, and are trained since birth to be the best. And you humans come here, no birth advantages, nothing, but you do alone what we can not do in entire squads. You…embarrass us.”

Danny just looked at him for a moment. He certainly hadn’t expected all that. He’d offended him by… one-upmanship?

“So what you’re saying is-”

“What I’m saying is put me on the other security team.”

Danny sighed. Clearly this wasn’t going to go anywhere. Not anywhere productive, anyway.

“Fine. Request granted, Ensign Grite.”

Grite stood there rigid, nodded, and left the room.

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

The next day, or cycle as it was called in space, went smoother. The change in personnel seemed to bring the team’s morale up.

“Good shot, Hayte!” Hotem called out to the new Indroprime on the team, Grite’s replacement. The simian like young man was using his excellent agility go jump and dive through holographic enemy fire. Danny thought that despite the reason why, it would end up being a good decision to send Grite to the other team, for everyone.

Danny cocked his pistol and dove into the fray with his team.

“Form up on me guys, we’re advancing!”

“Follow the Destroyer!” shouted the Quintin siblings in unison. Homet howled with laughter and Danny grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline starting to pour into his veins.

This would be a good team.

Danny would make sure of it.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

(DATV thoughts with spoilers ahead; i think my tags will keep it filtered but just in case it doesn't since i dont want this in the actual game tags)

i just... man. i don't have a well formulated thought for this yet (and its my PERSONAL OPINION and other people can feel as different as they want, this is not an attack) but it keeps bouncing around my head, so. i know the popular thing right now is coming up with in-universe justifications for The Pantry Almost-Kiss Scene in ways that imply Lucanis didn't mean it/it doesn't represent him as a person/he was Faking It.

and i just don't like any of them. they make me sad!!!!!! i don't like the idea that one of the like 4 romance scenes we get in this game is him Pretending in some way, even if he does at that point like Rook back at least somewhat. None of the justifications i've seen make me feel Better about that being the point where we declare him as a romantic interest, which is what it is in the game, functionally. It doesn't lock you in yet but that point IS where the game says "they will take your flirting more seriously now". I did those same scenes for Davrin, Emmrich, and Taash and this is the formula the game uses (the "interrupted almost-kiss/confession" happens for almost all of the companions).

so if the answer for Lucanis' is "actually he stopped because he Didn't like what he was doing/feel that way yet" or that he felt he had to pretend for Rook's sake... it's kind of a letdown you know? esspecially when it comes right after what seems like an actually authentic moment (dispelling his "perfectly gathered clouds of doom"). Because, at that point in the game from my/Rook's perspective, it was like he finally was reciprocating. It made me hope that he'd acknowledge whatever was between him & Rook more in future scenes, especially because you get so little else from him at any other point, in terms of flirting back/showing you he IS interested. like up to that point I felt kind of bad for continuing to flirt at him, when he'd just change the subject right after! if someone did that in real life i would take it as a hint to stop. This is pixels and not real people so I didn't but they have done "reluctant/fearful interest" better in other characters if that's truly what they were going for in this one.

so after finishing the romance and getting the rest of content... idk. I don't like saying "one of the major chunks of characterization we get needs to be Thrown Out Actually because he was Pretending". because it's not like he or Rook ever actually address it in game--you just don't get to talk about feelings until some dialogue choices only in the act 3 romance scene, and then his speech at endgame (not even a full conversation, so much as his personal declaration). like it takes until the VERY end of the game for him to say the thing about "he was afraid to want you", but that comes after you've already hooked up, even.

I think truly what annoys me is that it's a story choice that can only make sense in HINDSIGHT not AS PLAYING. Only once you have all the scenes can you say "this one is out of character" and then you either have to accept it as bad writing, or come up with some in-universe justification to explain it... and so far none of the in universe ones feel good to me. i wish they did because maybe then I'd be less annoyed, rip. but at the end of the day i think even if there was some intent there, it was a poor choice for his story arc, because it doesn't effectively convey anything... and the reason why we can project a lot of different explanations onto it is simply because it is never addressed again (and again, Lucanis Dellamorte is NOT A PERSON he is a CHARACTER used to further a story for you the player, and so the reasons I don't like this choice are story-level and not a dig at how real life people feel or act).

So yeah at the end of the day. that is simply not a narrative device I would ever personally use in this way on a player/reader. certain kinds of hindsight revelations have their place (see: what the devs tried to do with Varric though I also think that falls apart on close inspection, but at least it has justification in-universe), but for a romance it just makes me embarrassed for Rook. In a game where you don't have nearly as many back-and-forth conversations with characters and have to resort to eavesdropping on them talking to each other, it's sad that one of the like 5 times you actually get to talk to Lucanis one on one we're maybe supposed to believe he wasn't being authentic, and also that Rook can't respond to this ever. It would be different if it had any kind of follow up, imo. or honestly as i've said before i would rather it have been swapped out with something entirely different or where we get to talk about their feelings instead, before i get labeled as one of the "people mad he's not Zevran 2.0/a sexy latin sterotype".

But having to step back to player-level analysis versus in-character analysis when looking at his whole romance arc just feels sloppy. but i'd much rather stick to "bad writing" than "intentional character choice" in terms of how to interpret the scene I guess, at this point, for poor Rook's sake. and i know people disagree with when I've said that before bc as much as I love Mary Kirby in other areas, she has said many times that she doesn't like writing romance, and I think it really does show here. As much as I love Lucanis and the scraps we got I wish I didn't have to do so much filling-in-the-blanks on our own.

[titanic-angel]

мιgυel o'нara х ғ!reader

⁎︎✴︎ adronιтιѕ 1 ✴︎⁎︎

ѕynopѕιѕ ➪︎ мιgυel o'нara нaѕ a ѕтrange, claѕѕιғιed reqυeѕт oғ yoυ. нιм, and нιѕ dιgιтal aѕѕιѕтanт, lyla.

warnιngѕ ➪︎ swearing

noтeѕ ➪︎ enιмιeѕ тo coworĸerѕ тo ғrιendѕ тo loverѕ ѕlowвυrn ! ongoιng, υpdaтeѕ вeтween every ғew day

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

She chose you because of your name.

Lyla was a program, a buzzing core of digits and code, analytics her only language. It was unlike her to go by her heart, because she didn’t have one.

But she wanted one.

The heat of skin, eyes that could look, really look, at someone. The softened hair under her finger tips- printed with a map of grooves and lines that separated her from every other. She wanted the individuality that a human body could give, and that her pixels would never achieve.

Miguel made the mistake of giving Lyla a mind of her own, because now she wanted a body to match.

After pulling a difficult, relentless, and borderline maddening attitude for years, he finally gave into her wishes, under a condition.

Only one engineer.

The creation she asked for, the mockery of humanity, could take forever, even with her limitless knowledge and Miguel’s high tech and steady hands. But despite this, Miguel refused her a team of engineers to conjure a body that would make history. In order to prevent an overlap of his secrets and the real world, Lyla was to choose only one individual who could make her a body, and keep a secret.

An individual, who, had a lovely name.

You’re transcripts were impressive enough, but not recognized; so that when you were to be snuffed, stolen under fluorescent yellow lights, the only memory left would be that of a keycard scanner.

Its ironic, that a senseless A.I made her decision off feeling. But she saw youth in your eyes, a harsh comparison the age and wisdom that spoke in purples under your lashes. It was overwhelming, the amount of life you had ahead of you, a mortality characterized by the dismal way it said goodbye. But Lyla craved it, a madwoman of science and self.

A collection of illusions that was foolish enough to believe it could be anything, something, else.

Hope is a drug.

So, addicted, she said, “her.”

Miguel would pause, eyes roaming the expanse of your face, the smile in your eyes, the taint on your teeth, your tongue, the crevices of you jaw. His clicked, eyes doubtful.

But Lyla’s were resolute.

“I want her.”

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

Vague.

It was a font that thrived in obfuscated shadows. It was limitless in its unknown, clouded by things that should’ve been said, or instructions never specified.

Your pathetic heart clung to every word that stuck itself to an stark white screen, palpitations thrumming against your tonsils.

Staring back at you, an email from Miguel O’Hara, that read simply, vaguely, Meet at my office at 4:00 PM.

Your distaste for the font had now only grown.

It was impossible to work at Alchemax and not to hear his name praised at least once. Interns, employees from every felid, article after article were relentless in their awe of the man’s work.

But you weren’t stupid.

You were an observer. You knew at least fifty people who would claw him apart, sell their soul to the underworld, sacrifice an eye and ear to sit where he does, most of whom are just as qualified for the position.

That doesn’t exclude you.

It was something you despised about the company, it’s big gestures of gratitude to those with a name- only to turn with a gloved hand to feed the hogs, the greasy and bloodied heart of the operation, messily scraps.

But much like a farm animal, you were trapped in by a pen of promise and chance.

You were a pig with her farmer, believing even under the cleaver that she would see the bigger field on the other side of the fence. That gamble for praise, a trophy and a house to put it in.

But Miguel wasn’t just a pig.

He was the show hog. Big blue bows, pretty golden plaques and a pillow to sleep on.

But at the end of the day, he was fed the same slop, just in a different trough.

Even so, he had it all. He had everything you didn’t.

Well, everything but email etiquette.

So you, frantic in the newness, clung to your bag, heavy with uncertainty. You brought everything you needed- or didn’t. Papers from 2 weeks ago, two years ago, updates and criticisms, research and theories. It all felt so, infuriatingly, unsteady.

You despised your leniency, your willingness to play along. But you blamed Miguel even more. It was embarrassing for you, to run down flights of stairs on a whim. Foolishly you ask yourself who does he think he is, despite knowing the answer.

Given, you had never met the man. He was similar to the newness of the space, a gap, a tear in the pages of Alchemax’s directory, the hazy profile in your inbox a mere pixel of his program. But you could already smell his dismissiveness, his arrogance.

You of course, could’ve made the executive decision, having a mind of your own, to ignore the email (if not out of spite, out of fear).

But maybe the whispers of his name intrigued you. Maybe, you had read the articles written about him offhandedly, jealous, but impressed. Maybe, shamefully, your curiosity was strong than your own resolve, willing to bend and mold into the shape of those 6 words and a time because you wanted to know the why.

His demand, written with so little grace or gratitude, had been met, when your labored breath fanned across the white doors.

You knocked, because you had manners.

When the white door opened, you came to the realization that nothing, not even a high resolution photo, could do his presence justice.

His head nearly touched the door, soft tufts of brown hair falling wildly, exhaustedly, over his ears. High cheekbones at a sharp angle, hollowing out his cheeks in a faint shadowed line. A mouth that looked gentle, despite its creased frown. The valley of his skin was rough and uneven, granular creases of age digging into the space under his nose, his mouth, his eyes.

They were a deep brown; almost red under the overhead lights, wandering above your head, before looking at you with an intensity that made your swallow hard.

The lab coat and dress shirt were flattering around his shoulders, the cotton molding to his massive gate like elastic. They stiffened at the sight of you, breath heavy and pink cheeked, before he released a sharp sigh when his gaze moved to the clock above your head.

4:02

“You’re late.” That wasn’t a lie.

“You we’re vague.” But that wasn’t either.

“I said my office” he said, stepping to the side, gesturing you to walk in (or, to his office to prove his point, either one made your teeth grit).

You followed his arm in. On his wrist, a patch of discoloration- the bruise yellow in contrast to warm brown.

Strange.

You’re eyes began to make sense of your surroundings. White walls, sparse pictures, a desk, two chairs, two computers, stray wires and scraps.

It was similar to a doctors office- suffocating, boring, unsettling.

“You didn’t say why,” you glanced at one of the only framed papers on the wall, a certificate declaring him as the head of research regarding anti-matter.

You hated to admit it, but his name looked good on paper.

“Miguel.”

You heard his tongue click before he sat down at his desk behind you. “Mr. O’Hara is fine.”

You laughed, turning to him with a sneer. “You’re clinically insane if you think I’m going to refer to you by Mr.”

He motioned for the seat in front of him. You stayed where you were. He narrowed his eyes, “it’s proper etiquette.”

You laughed again. For his arrogance, he was funny. “Don’t talk to me about etiquette. You still haven’t debriefed why I walked a marathon to get to your office.”

We’re you being a little harsh? Absolutely. But people like him, demanding, flippant, who liked to play boss; they used employees (who were just as if not more talented than they were) as their pawns. Employees like you.

You has no issue with the label bitter. It accurately describes your attitude towards most of the head-of’s at Alchemax.

Truthfully, the rise and fall of his shoulders and his rugged edges made you nervous.

But you weren’t a piece of meat in his teeth.

You refused to be the shaking fawn. But you knew you’d never be the wolf sitting across from you.

So you became the hunter willing to shoot both.

He sighed, a harsh sound that vibrated your ribs. “Please just…sit down.”

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

He rubbed his temples, muttering incoherent Spanish under his breath. “Why must you be so difficult?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then you felt the air spark.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, fingernails digging into your palms, threatening blood. It was paralyzing, the sudden scent of bleach being replaced by, if it counted, the smell of yellow.

“You’re no fun Miguel, that’s why. She is, though.”

In your paralysis, you found the strength (or bravery) to move you head to your left, eyes fuzzy but alert, in an attempt to place a face to the yellow.

When you did, she was grinning.

You stifled a scream, lodged in your throat, scraping at your tongue, heavy. She giggled, turning upside down.

“Hello there.”

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

“This is my digital assistant, Lyla,” he sighed, “she likes to make an entrance.”

She blinked.

“Holy fuck.” You whispered.

You had finally (reluctantly) took a seat per earlier request, thighs pressed together and, by anxious habit, picking your stray thumb skin. It was loose off your nail, flimsy under your subconscious fidget.

Currently, it was one of the only forms of control you had over the situation. You couldn’t really process if it should feel comforting, or unsettling.

Miguel’s stale gaze made that decision for you.

You cleared your throat.

“Did you make…her?” Now you just felt stupid. The look they both gave you didn’t help.

“Short answer…yes. I made her. But she-“

“I eventually just started updating myself until I became the gorgeous, stunning lady before you!” She said, grinning at you brightly, expectantly. You nodded, cautious.

“I see. So,” you turned to Miguel, “i think if you’re experiencing issues with…” you paused, looking at the hologram. She glitched, and smiled, “Lyla.”

You nodded, again. “Right, Lyla. I won’t be of much help. I’m an engineer, not an A.I expert, so if you need assistance-“

“But you can help!” Lyla flashed in front of you and, startled, your ripped the skin tag clean off.

Ow.

She stood (floated) on the table in front of you. Suddenly, yellow and orange squares appeared around you, and once the glaze of obscurity was blinked away, you realized they were your files.

Your photo, the research in your bag, and the ones you left at your desk. Hell, as you looked closer you noticed school records, family photos and their records.

It all stared back at you, a clarity that made you feel nauseous.

“Listen, kid,” she paused, her glitching body coming to your nose, finally making your vision break from the screens, “I don’t like being in this form anymore than you do. My beautiful mind deserves more than,” she motioned to herself, “this.”

Your mouth felt dry. If you knew where this was going-

“Two years ago,” a small square came to the center, “you worked on a robot. But not just some science fair, miniature, boring robot.”

Her eyes shimmered, brighter than the rest of her body.

“A robot that looked human.”

She scrolled through the article, the one that on release had made you cringe, “given, it was unsuccessful, but it’s detailing, it’s functions, they felt-”

She turned to you, and suddenly all your life disappeared from around your chair, leaving you in the dim light with Lyla’s silhouette.

She glitched, and for a moment you saw the humanity in her yellow. Somewhere, deep within the pixels, she was-.

“Real. I want to be real. And you’re going to help me.”

You paused. “I am?”

She laughed. “Well I hope so!” She threw her arms out, gesturing at the, now gone, files, “you could redeem yourself!”

You’re nose wrinkled. “I don’t need to redeem anything. My work-“

“Was a failure,” you winced, “that article still stains your reputation here at Alchemax, and I’m positive it’s the reason a mind as bright as yours is not higher up here.”

Even if it hurt to hear aloud, the truth always hurts. She was right. That experiment years ago lived and breathed down your neck. Now, you play a desperate game of catch up with the mistake that got a mile ahead of you before you took one step.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll bite. What do you need me to do.”

“Make me a body.”

You laughed, startled at how simply she put it. “Sorry Lyla- that’s just…well it’s near impossible.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“And I failed, as you so gently pointed out.” You hated how hopeless you sounded when you said it, how you belittled yourself. But once again, the truth hurts.

“But you won’t this time.”

She hovered over your finger tips, smiling gently up at you. “We can help each other. I want a body, and you want a good reputation. If you build this for me…”

“We both win.” You finished.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

You groaned, your head falling to look at your lap. Your thumb still throbbed at the place you picked at your skin, the pinkish flesh stinging in the stale air. You wondered why Lyla wanted this- the fragility and the vulnerability that came with being…alive.

It was fleeting and it was calloused, a worn down tapestry that kept the face of agony and regret painfully clear, even as the rest of its body faded with time and age.

But you supposed, that there was a beauty in it. An untouched phenomenon- life wasn’t permanent, but it was special.

The grass is greener on the other side.

“Alright.”

Lyla laughed, leaping up to your nose.

“So you’ll help?”

“Yes. But what’s the catch.”

Her head tilted.

Your gaze moved to Miguel.

Despite his silence throughout this whole discussion, his analytic stare did not move from your face. It dug into your skin, his silence louder than any roar he could conjure. It’s animosity overwhelmed your skull, making the words that left your clenched throat hoarse and weak.

“What’s the catch.”

His chest rumbled in what you (hoped) believed to be a sigh, shouldered slumping. “You can’t…tell anyone during the process. You’ll be paid, but it’s classified information. No one can know what your doing.”

You almost stood up and left.

There wasn’t any pride, any joy in your work unless there was credit. Of course, scientific and engineering discoveries weren’t fueled by the promise of history, but you were a fool if you believed it wasn’t part of the process.

Michelangelo didn’t paint the Sistine Chapel to have people simply walk under his ceiling.

He wanted them to break their own necks to admire it.

But, a part of you hesitated.

Maybe the slow game was smarter. To become Miguel O’Hara’s colleague, to mold and shape and sculpt under shadows. Until your own masterpiece, much too alive to dust in an old museum, was revealed to an open skies and wonderstruck audience.

You felt guilty, doing this for your own gain rather than the goodness of your heart. But they knew who they hired. They knew it was a consensual abuse of power from both sides.

They knew that status would always taste sweeter than empathy.

You stuck out your hand.

“Deal.”

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

parт 2 ⇁︎

[pianokantzart]

The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 8)

What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 ________

Following the map on his Dual Scream and going deeper into the mountain, Luigi stops when he encounters a giant metal facade shaped like E. Gadd's face, whose mouth forms a shut door that blocks his path.

"H_ld on," the static-muffled voice of E. Gadd assures over the DS, "I'll g_t th_ do_rs open."

Sure enough, the metal mouth opens up, but as Luigi walks down a long, dim hallway, he grows nervous about the worsening signal between him and the professor, and he begins slapping the side of his device to try and fix it.

"Easy th__re son_y. Just k__p f_llowing the map. The s_gn_al sho_ld clear up right ab_out.... now" E. Gadd's crackling voice assures. On cue, the professor's voice and picture becomes crystal clear as Luigi emerges from the illuminated tunnels into a large laboratory.

"Normally, signals can't travel that far underground," the professor explains. "Luckily, I built a frequency booster into my lab. If I hadn't, all communication and teleportation in and out of Thwomp Mountain would be impossible."

"Teleportation?" Luigi asks while prodding at the large satellite dish in the corner– what he assumes to be the frequency booster.

E. Gadd chuckles. "See that large green monitor on the east end of my lab?" Luigi's attention shifts enormous glowing green tv screen on the opposite end of the room. He approaches it as the professor continues: "That's the Pixelator, Kiddo! And that's exactly what we're gong to use to get you into King Boo's mansion.

"How do I use it?" Luigi asks, looking around in awe of all the technology around him. E. Gadd replies: "Just stand in front of the monitor. I'll use my Dual Scream's remote access to set its destination. Give me one second."

While Luigi is waiting for Professor E. Gadd to activate the Pixelator, he notices the atmosphere in the room begin to change; the lights dim, and the air grows cold to the point that Luigi can see his breath.

"Professor, I'm not one to tell you how to use your own technology, but I think you accidentally turned off the lights... or the thermostat?" The professor responds to this comment with a long moment of thoughtful, anxious silence.

"Luigi, did anyone follow you into my lab?" E. Gadd eventually asks. This question intensifies Luigi's growing fear. He pulls out the Poltergust flashlight and looks around the darkened lab while saying that he didn't see anyone following him, to which E. Gadd shakes his head. "Just because you didn't see anyone, doesn't mean you weren't followed!"

Suddenly, glowing etherial bars block off the doors and the exits. Three greenies, a hider, and a slammer materialize and start wreaking havoc, frightening Luigi to the point that he runs off to take cover behind a lab desk.

Pulling out his Dual Scream, Luigi tries to ask E. Gadd what to do, as he has never seen these types of ghosts before, but to his dismay the professor's voice and image have been replaced with an alert that reads "signal lost."

Luigi peeks out from his hiding place, and sees the greenies are egging on the slammer as he tears large chunks out of the frequency booster.

Luigi, yelling for the ghosts to stop, leaps into action with Poltergust in hand. A fight breaks out, and while Luigi gets knocked around at first as he struggles to figure out his attackers, he eventually makes effective use of the strobulb and gets the upper hand.

Soon, the atmosphere of the room returns to normal and the bars disappear from the doors, but this brings little relief to Luigi. With the frequency booster broken he has no ability to contact E. Gadd., and E. Gadd has no control of his lab. Even the large metal door out of the lab refuses to budge, leaving Luigi trapped in the heart of the mountain.

Luigi sits down amidst the wreckage, struggling to hold it together. Bruised and exhausted, he takes off his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow, when who should appear but Polterpup who... seeing the hat up for grabs... snatches it away and runs off.

Luigi impatiently chases the dog around the lab until he trips over an overturned cabinet full of journals and schematics, scattering papers everywhere.

After finally retrieving his hat, Luigi begins to pick up some of the scattered documents, when he stumbles upon a file for the frequency booster, filled with blueprints and schematics.

Luigi thumbs through the file curiously. He looks at his useless Dual Scream, then at a box of tools in the corner. He takes a deep breath, and gathers up the broken pieces of the machine to see what he can do to repair the damage.

A montage ensues of him slowly and carefully fixing the frequency booster. With polterpup overlooking his progress in mindless, playful curiosity, Luigi manages to get the machine running after after a few tries.

Opening his Dual Scream back up, Luigi is pleased to see the "signal lost" alert has disappeared, but as he tries to call the professor he is surprised when Princess Daisy answers the DS in his stead.

"Hey! The Green Wonder lives!!!" the princess laughs, "What happened, man!? E. Gadd said he lost contact!" "Ghosts." Luigi said with a meek shrug, "they damaged the machine that lets signals leave the mountain, but I got it fixed."

"Brains and brawn? You're just the whole package, aren't ya!" Luigi smiles shyly at the complement, but before he can thank her he is interrupted by a heavy thud and the sound of commotion on Daisy's end of the line.

"Are you okay?" Luigi asks. "Oh yeah! We just entered Evershade Valley airspace and there's this stupid purple mist that makes it impossible to see." Daisy explains, "Luckily, The Professor has pinpointed the main locations of The Darkmoon fragments, so that should make navigation a little easier. Oh! Speak of the devil-"

E. Gadd suddenly arrives, and interrupts by pulling the Dual Scream from Daisy's hands. Luigi overhears a brief scuffle between the princess and the professor, but E. Gadd eventually wins out on the argument that Daisy needs to focus on the controls before she drives the entire ship into the side of Snowcap Mountains.

"Luigi!" E. Gadd says once he has hold of the Dual Scream. "You had me worried!" "Sorry. I–" "It's okay Sonny, what matters is I've regained a signal connection with my mountain lab! I assume you made quick work of those ghosts?" "Y-Yeah! I–" Luigi tries to explain, but the professor impatiently waves him off. "Well, we've lost too much time as it is. Get back to the Pixelator so I can get you out of there!"

Luigi goes to the Pixelator, and though he remains mesmerized by the machinery he grows a little nervous upon reconsidering the idea of being teleported. "You' sure this is safe?" he asks.

"Well, none of the mice I tested it on had any complaints!" E. Gadd. says, "however, you might want to hold as still as possible, just in case." Before Luigi can reply, the machine activates. With a terrified yelp Luigi flies apart into pixels and is sent hurtling through the vortex of a shining green TV screen.

[kroosluvr]

moments of mouthwashing that made me crazy (spoilers and not in order)

curly's laugh when jimmy picked up the gun

swansea's whole spiel with all the photos/videos in the bg AUGH

anya's dead pixel line already made me emotional when i read it in game (i thought abt it like her being observant and taking big stock in the ship around her, that curly doesnt even notice despite being the leader) and then i read more analysis posts on it and CLUTCHES HEAD,

the little embryos being horse things in that ultrasound(?) scene.

the fact that we see daisuke being fucked up and being like Oh god what happened, and the dread of playing thru that entire instance and then we find out what happened. the kind of like. We see the end FIRST was so good in that scene in particular i think

the recipe things??? UGh haunting disgusting idk i think the idea of like food distilled down to just fake nutrients is so chilling and the fact that later on in the game (when u make the cocktail for swansea) u see the food generator thingy covered w foam.

the fact that the crash didnt kill them.

the fact that they tried to keep living, for 4 MOTNHS!!!! after the crash.

every time jimmy was like tantrum abt giving curly meds r U KIDDING ME

daisuke. daisuke. daisuke ):

swansea's dialogue to daisuke.

the fact that they used the fuckign disinfectant for the cocktail so they had to use mouhtwash on daisuke was so sickening

OH THE FUCIKING. when they unveiled that the cargo was just fuckking mouthwash. so horrific like actually because like its... kind of useless . not anything consumable (..looks at swansea) so its just.,, taunting(?) in a way to have like 500 lifetimes of storage of it

swansea saving the cryopod for jimmy. -> edit: HE WAS def saving it to save anya or daisuke BUT the fact that he said a captain shld go down w his ship right? CHILLS.

ok thsi is crazy/neg but THE ENDING MADE ME SO FUCKING MAD i thought jimmy wld take curly with him into the pod as a way to "reconcile" himself and their friendship but nooo he just goes and offs himself so he doesnt have to take responsibility (AGAIN!) the fukcignMOTHERFUCKER sorry im mad at him. Not sorry acutally

[fortheloveofarchons]

Been playing Love and Deepspace for the past few days and here's my take on this.....

Content warning though, it's gonna be a long post! And this is just coming from someone who only played the game a few days ago so this is just my first impression!

Let me just say this, algorithm...

It's your fault for making me download the game.

You knew I like hot attractive fictional men. You knew I like bratty boyfailures. You knew I like older, stoic yet kind men. You knew I like mysterious softboys.

YOU KNEW.

So you bombarded me with L&DS content on my socials, my home, my walls, and even my grass!!! I won't forgive you for dragging me into another gacha hole, especially when you knew that I promise myself to never spend a dime on any of these games!!! (I'm an f2p player)

Anyways-- Here's my take on this game as a newbie.

The VAs and character designs?

Amazing. I love the boys (including Caleb) and the MC customisation is really detailed. Though, I wish we could have short hair MC permanently but I'm glad we get to experience it on photoshoots. I do wish we get to explore more of the boys on the main plot cause it feels a bit underwhelming. Then again I just finished chapter 3 so we'll see!

I love the dates and the playtime mode since it gives us time to get closer to the boys and understand more about their past and their characteristics. (I'm convinced the claw machine gacha is so random cause one day Xavier won a lot and the next it was Zayne)

I will say tho for now I feel like Rafayel is more developed and interesting compared to the other two. I like Zayne in terms of how much he really cares about his patients and how he was closer to MC back then, but I wish we get more of him soon. For Xavier he's such a mystique as well and I really like him too! Overall, I wish we get more events dedicated to Zayne and Xavier.

The fluidity of the animation and graphics?

Really good considering that I'm playing it on mobile, I set it to medium and its runs pretty smoothly without any low pixelated quality. I love how detailed the backgrounds and designs are, and I really love some of the cinematic shots the developers added during the date scenes. I can't wait to pull for more dates for the characters!

Combat wise?

It's fine for now ,and I really appreciate the proceed 10x button when farming for materuals considering that I'm more of a casual player rather than a combat one.

Though I'm still frustrated that one of the requirements of getting 3 stars for extra diamonds would be to win the combat within 90 secs and I'm like-- boy if that dragon didn't have that short animation I would've gotten it faster!!! If it had been 120 secs I would have gotten it easier... I know that the whole combat system will get a bit complicated the more you ascend your hunter level so I'll just farm for materials just to prepare the inevitable.

Also I wish there were more ways to gain more exps for your hunter level instead of doing the daily tasks. Imagine you are about to head to the next chapter get some main content and yet you can't bc your hunter level is just two level away so you have to wait for the next day...

The plot?

I would say its okay for now since I'm about to head to chapter 4 and even though I finished chapter 3 it still feels like the beginning. The worldbuilding is really interesting but I'm still a bit confused on some aspects of the story. Overall, I can't wait to finally see Caleb on screen (I already saw him on Youtube and I wish he's playable he's so pretty sksksksks)

Edit: I just finished chapter 4.... what in the sweet metaflux world... CALEEEBBBBBB!!!!!

So yeah this is my impression on the game as someone who only joined after a few days! I hope to see more contents for the boys and I can't wait for more chapters (I spoiled myself at chapter 4 and my god... I want Caleb to be playable plzzzzz)

I'm aware that as a newbie my opinions are probably flawed considering that it's barely even a week since I joined, I would love to hear some advices from you guys just so I can prepare myself in terms of combat and to understand more about the characters if I missed anything about them!

[f14fun]

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 8

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau + prose (8.4K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ prev | next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

જ⁀➴✎ ❛❛Y/N's POV❞

The funny thing about catching feelings is that you never know when the walk becomes a stroll, then a jog, and eventually turns into what seems like a never-ending chase.

It’s a flurry of emotions, each step more fervent than the last. At first, you might think it’s just a casual stroll—something light and easy, just taking in the sights and sounds. But then, it evolves into a leisurely walk, where you find yourself more invested, more attentive to the nuances of the path you’re on.

As you get more involved, the pace quickens, and suddenly, what was once a gentle amble has turned into a brisk jog. Your heart starts to race, and every moment feels charged with potential and possibility. The thrill of the chase sets in; you’re no longer just moving along the path but running towards something that feels both exhilarating and daunting.

And just when you think you’ve reached the peak of intensity, the chase turns into a marathon. The emotions swirl around you like a storm, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes overwhelming. It’s as if you’re in a never-ending pursuit, where every stride is driven by hope, fear, and anticipation. It’s a whirlwind of highs and lows, where the finish line seems perpetually just out of reach.

The moment I truly felt my peak of intensity was the moment that I landed in Nice, France, ready to embark towards my ultimate destiny: Being the ultimate Monacan WAG. If you truly believed that last statement, dear reader, I must call you gullible.

Anyhow, the Nice Côte d'Azur Airport had welcomed me with open arms, giving me the twenty kilometer leeway of relief before I was due in the beautiful Principality of Monaco.

And don't get me wrong, but I was scared.

The facade that I put up everyday on stream, on social media, was only a fraction of who I really was. I was left wondering to myself in the hours leading up to meeting Max, "Would he really like me for who I was? What if this was one humongous joke I was apart of, and I was doomed to be the laughingstock?"

Arriving in Monaco, surrounded by its opulence and charm, only heightened my feelings of vulnerability. The grandeur of the setting made my personal fears feel even more pronounced. Would the real me, with all my imperfections and uncertainties, measure up to the expectations set by the facade I had carefully crafted online?

To be put simply, I was only a girl. And I really, really, really hoped that multimillionaire Dutch Formula One racer Max Emilian Verstappen would take pleasure in meeting me.

I had texted Max how I should meet with him, nonchalantly, of course. But on the inside, my palms were sweaty. I was nervous. In person, I wouldn't say I was the best flirt. I was more like that one twelve year old boy at the pool trying to impress a friend group of sixteen year old girls.

I fumbled on my words. I tripped. I missed. I blushed. I ran. I wept about my mistakes, and kept thinking what the absolute fuck did I just say? Why did that just come out of my mouth? I am stupid. I am so stupid.

Simply put, I didn't have much rizz.

Honestly, if I could headbutt myself, I definitely would. I had set myself up for utmost failure for acting like a confident prick, over text, over stream, and over Twitter. I acted like I had it all together, but in reality, if a tall, handsome guy were to actually approach me, you’d see me stumbling over my words and turning into a nervous wreck.

It was pathetic, really.

And oh my gosh, dear reader, if you had seen the look on my face when I had Googled Max Verstappen for the first time...

It was shameful, I will admit.

Learning that he stood six inches above me at his 5'11" stature... I was blushing in the comforting shadows of my bedroom, fearfully gripping my phone, as if Max himself was going to suddenly appear in my room and catch me red-handed, shamelessly watching edits of him.

Hiding under the covers at two am before a long day at work, and pondering if his big, big, bicep muscles from holding a steering wheel all day could eventually hold me in his comforting grasp. Daydreaming, in the middle of meetings with high-end game-development executives, if I could sudden run into his chest and have him hug me until I couldn't breath. Wondering, if I could sit on his thighs one day, and using his veiny hands, he could hold me by my waist and his steamy breath talk into my ear.

Yeah, I get no bitches and I'm horny.

It's pretty obvious to y'all at this point. Don't be a mean girl and judge, though.

And with all of these thoughts, I am not afraid to think them. In the shower, making dinner, watching him race...But it was all put in perspective when I stood outside of his apartment door, waiting for him to let me into his home.

It felt private. Intimate. Different, than all the displays of affection and joyous laughter we shared with the public.

But now I was in the comfort of his home. No prying cameras (at least I hoped that there were no hidden cameras), away from the never-ending watchful eye of the public.

The first thing I noticed about him were his eyes. They were a piercing, greenish, blueish, grayish color—a mix of the sea and comets, a blend of colors I couldn't quite put my finger on.

It was like they held the depth of the ocean, the intensity of a storm, and the mystery of the cosmos all at once. In the soft light of the doorway, they seemed almost otherworldly, drawing me in with their enigmatic allure.

Many people online had said that these eyes were constantly hardened, a result of years spent racing under intense pressure, dealing with tough words from his father, and the unwavering support and strength he garnered from his sister and mother.

They were eyes that had seen the highs of victory and the lows of defeat, that had faced criticism and expectation head-on, and had come out stronger on the other side.

These eyes told a story of resilience and determination, of someone who had been through the wringer and had emerged with a steely resolve. The internet was filled with tales of his focused, almost intimidating gaze on the racetrack, where every glance was calculated and every blink was a strategy.

They spoke of a man who had to grow up fast, who had to build walls to protect himself from the harsh realities of his world.

But when he looked at me, I could swear that I saw them soften.

They drew me in, and for a moment, I knew I could write poetry about them. There was a story in every shade, every flicker of light within those eyes. I could imagine penning verses about their depth, their history, and the way they seemed to hold entire worlds within them.

Suddenly, all my nerves and the fear of being a fumbling, awkward mess seemed to dissipate, at least a little. There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel seen, like he was looking past the persona and seeing the real me. It was a mix of relief and disbelief, like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't going to be the disaster I had built up in my head.

I had never believed in the saying, "love at first sight", but I could've sworn my heart skipped a beat, if not multiple, when I locked eyes with him. Like I predicted, he was a tall, tall, man. And I, like a lot of people in this world, was not immune to the charm of a tall man.

"Oh, you are very tall," I blurted out.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. The words had slipped past my tongue and out of my mouth, bypassing the more sensible part of me, aka my brain. Damn you, stupid weak heart.

I could feel my face heating up, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. Out of anything I literally could have said, my intrusive thoughts had gotten the best of me. My inner voice was screaming at me to pull it together, but it was too late. The words were out there, hanging awkwardly in the air between us. My poster slumped slightly, there was literally no way to recover this. I desperately needed to find a galvanized stainless steel block to bash my head against repeatedly.

Max chuckled softly, a sound that somehow made me feel a bit more at ease despite my flub. "And you must be Y/N," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Welcome."

Taking a deep breath, I tried to regain my composure. "Yeah, that's me," I said with a small, nervous laugh. "Sometimes when someone makes me hella nervous, it just happens, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" I started, but he cut me off gently.

"I make you nervous?" He smirked at me. "Well I didn't know that."

Okay. Cut the cameras, deadass. I quite literally felt like I was a main character in that weird-ass phone game Episode (yes, my guilty pleasure at three am but nonetheless a fun hobby to have) It was like one of those cliché moments where the charming love interest says something flirty, and the protagonist’s heart skips a beat. Except this was real life, and my heart was doing somersaults.

I could feel my face heating up again, but this time, there was a small part of me that felt… excited? Maybe this wouldn't be a complete disaster after all. Trying to play it cool, I flashed a shy smile. "Yeah, well, you're pretty intimidating in person," I said, hoping to keep the conversation light.

"I cannot believe you said that, I'm just a really big cuddly bear," Max laughed at me, opening his arms out for a hug.

For a split second, I hesitated, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But then, the warmth in his eyes and the genuine smile on his face melted away any remaining nervousness.

Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his strong yet gentle embrace envelop me. It was like being pulled into a cocoon of safety and comfort, his presence immediately soothing the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

As we hugged, I felt the tension in my body start to ease. His arms were warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had been gnawing at me since I landed. In that moment, it felt like all the awkwardness and worries faded into the background. It was just the two of us, sharing a simple, sincere connection.

The hug lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make me feel grounded and welcomed, a silent promise that maybe this really was the beginning of something special.

And I did believe him, that he was just a really big cuddly bear. His laugh was warm like honey, and I could definitely get used to hugging those biceps and burrowing my head in his chest, like a teddy bear. All I could think of was the moment I whipped out my phone to get on Twitter I would tweet, #needthat.

What???

I'm just a girl.

"You're really fucking cute," Max suddenly stated, his soft voice interrupting my daydream.

Wait wait wait what?? Backtrack please?? Did Max Verstappen just call me cute, as he leans on the fucking doorway and I can see his biceps bulge as he-

Noticing my shocked expression, and my jaw must have been hanging out for a considerably long time without responding, he started to laugh at me.

"I hope I was the first person to tell you that today," He continued.

"Y-you certainly were the first person to say that, oh my," I sputtered, a creeping blushing arising from my neck and blossoming onto my cheeks.

Max's eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "Well, it's about time someone did," he said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "I've been looking forward to this moment for a while, you know."

I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure. "You have?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The bold, flirtatious Max standing in front of me was a stark contrast to the more reserved person I knew online. It was disorienting, but also incredibly intriguing.

This side of him was magnetic, drawing me in with a mix of confidence and playfulness that I hadn't anticipated. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the realization hitting me that the dynamic between us had shifted entirely.

Online, I had always been the one with the witty comebacks and cheeky comments, but now, standing here in his presence, I felt like I was discovering a whole new dimension of our connection. His boldness was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, making me wonder just how many other surprises he had in store.

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin. "Seeing you now, in person, you're even more stunning than I imagined." He leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving mine, and I felt my heart race faster with every passing second.

"Oh, wow, um, thank you," I stammered, feeling my shyness take over. It was surreal—here I was, the one who had always been confident and playful online, now reduced to a blushing mess in front of him.

Max chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the role reversal. "You know, I always found your confidence online really attractive," he said. "But seeing you like this, all shy and flustered... it's pretty adorable too."

I bit my lip, trying to steady my nerves. "Well, you were always the cool, mysterious racer," I said, attempting to regain a bit of my former bravado. "It's kind of unfair that you're also charming in real life."

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that made my heart flutter. (And I could swear I could hear hundred dollar bills when he laughed) "Guess we both have our secrets," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I have to say, I kind of like seeing this side of you."

"Yeah?" I replied, feeling a small surge of confidence. "Maybe you'll see more of it, if you keep being this sweet."

Max took a step closer, his presence enveloping me like a warm blanket. "Oh, I plan to," he said, his voice low and intimate. "Getting to know the real you is something I've been looking forward to. Online was fun, but this...this is so much better."

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks again, but this time it was mixed with excitement. "Well, you better keep up the charm then," I teased, trying to match his playful energy. "I'm not that easy to impress, you know."

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, leaning in slightly, his proximity making my heart race even faster.

"Maybe it is," I said, my voice daring but my insides turning to jelly. "Think you can handle it?"

Max grinned, his confidence unwavering. "Oh, I know I can," he said smoothly. "And by the end of this trip, you'll see just how serious I am."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of anticipation and thrill coursing through me. The flirty banter, the unexpected boldness, and the undeniable chemistry between us—it was all so intoxicating. As I looked into his eyes, I realized that this was just the beginning of an adventure that was sure to be full of surprises and unforgettable moments. Spending time with Max felt completely different from any of my past relationships.

There was a new air about him, a different kind of electricity that sparked between us. Unlike the fleeting attention I had received from past lovers, who barely gave me a minute of their day, Max's presence was all-encompassing. He made me feel seen and valued in a way I hadn't experienced before. Each moment with him was charged with genuine interest and warmth, making me feel like I was the only person in the world.

The thought of what lay ahead made my heart race with a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration. I knew that being with Max would be an experience unlike any other, a journey where we would both reveal our true selves and create memories that would last a lifetime.

Don't call me naive, dear reader, because in the moment, it truly felt that way to me...And I really hoped that he felt the same too.

"Alright then," I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Game on."

Max's smile widened, and he extended his hand. "Game on," he echoed, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me as our fingers intertwined.

"Come on in," he said, leading me into his apartment.

As soon as we stepped inside, I realized that 'apartment' was an understatement. The place felt more like a huge penthouse rather than the modest apartment he had made it out to be. It was luxurious yet still quite plain and humble, a reflection of Max himself. The high ceilings, expansive windows, and elegant but understated furniture gave it a sense of grandeur without being ostentatious.

The living area was open and airy, with floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking, a sprawling panorama of twinkling lights and distant landmarks that seemed to stretch endlessly. Despite the grandeur, there was an inviting warmth to the space. The furniture, though minimal, was meticulously chosen—sleek modern lines with plush, comfortable seating that suggested a home where one could truly relax.

As we moved through the apartment, I noticed the subtle details: a few well-placed art pieces, not too many, just enough to add character without overwhelming the space. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, with shiny countertops and high-end appliances, but it was evident that Max wasn’t a chef—there were no intricate gadgets or utensils, just the basics. The sparse decorations spoke volumes about his personality: practical and unpretentious.

"Wow," I said, looking around in awe. "You really weren’t kidding when you said you had a big place. This is incredible."

Max shrugged, a hint of embarrassment on his face. "Yeah, I guess it’s a bit bigger than most apartments," he said with a sheepish grin. "But, as you can see, I didn’t exactly go all out on decorating. I’m not really into interior design and don’t have a clue how to make it look... well, more 'homey.'"

I laughed, finding his modesty endearing. "Well, if you ever want to change that, I’m your go-to person," I offered playfully. "I could definitely give this place a bit more personality."

"Oh, really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "And what if I said I might be more inclined to actually spend more time here if you did?"

I grinned, feeling a spark of excitement at the prospect. "Challenge accepted," I said. "I’ll have to draw up some design ideas for you. Just don’t be surprised if you come home one day and find your place looking like a completely different world."

Max chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Are you saying you’re going to turn my penthouse into something out of a magazine?"

"Something like that," I replied, trying to keep a straight face. "But with a touch of ‘Y/N’ flair. I promise it won’t be all pink and sparkles—unless you really want it to be."

"I think I'd rather die," He rolled his eyes, making me a victim of the sassy man apocalypse. Letting out a sudden bark of laughter, my eyes widened, surprised at the ugly ass noise I just let out.

"Wait no I take it back, it would be way better if I just paint it neon green and tweeted #BratSummerTakeover," I laughed.

"This is way worse than the pink what the hell..." Max laughed at my antics. Finally, he was matching my freak!

"Honestly, CharliXCX and Brat Twitter would probably save you if you got canceled, just because you made your apartment Brat themed," I countered, eye brows raising and daring him to challenge me.

"What would I even get cancelled for? Being too devilishly handsome, maybe," He asked, smirking at me.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, and I knew I was blushing a lot. "Well, maybe," I stammered, trying to regain my composure. "Or for making girls like me turn bright red with just a few words."

Max's smirk widened, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. "I think I could live with that," he said, his voice low and teasing. "But seriously, I like seeing this side of you. It's cute."

I blushed even more, trying to deflect the compliment with humor. "Well, you might get canceled for making me turn this red," I quipped, feeling a bit bolder. "And for having terrible taste in decor. Honestly, who wouldn’t want a neon green penthouse? It’s the height of fashion."

Max shook his head, still laughing. "Okay, okay. Maybe we should stick to something a bit more... timeless. How about a black and white theme? Classic, elegant, and less likely to blind anyone who walks in."

I pretended to consider it, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, that could work. But only if we add some gold accents. You know, to bring out the sparkle in your eyes."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Gold accents, huh? You really think my eyes sparkle?"

"Like diamonds, just like that one Rihanna song," I said, batting my eyelashes and throwing my hands up in a dramatic fashion. "But seriously, I think we can make this place look amazing. Just trust me."

Max smiled, his gaze softening. "I do trust you. And I’m actually looking forward to seeing what you come up with. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything," I said, leaning in closer, our hands brushing against each other again. I was literally going bonkers from the sexual tension between us two, and I wasn't sure how long I could take it for the next week, before the dam overflowed. And trust me, I don't mind if this dam overflows. Wink wink.

"Promise me you won’t turn it into a jungle. I don’t think I could handle that much greenery," he said with a playful wink.

I laughed, nodding. "Deal. No jungle theme. But I can’t promise there won’t be a few plants. They add life, you know?"

Max grinned, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, a few plants I can handle. Just no turning my place into a botanical garden."

I gave him a teasing look. "You never know, a few well-placed ferns could really spruce the place up. Besides, they say talking to plants helps them grow. Maybe it’ll work wonders for you too."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Are you implying I need help growing? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve hit my growth spurt."

I laughed, feeling more at ease with each playful exchange. "No, just that a little greenery might make this place feel more like home. Plus, it could give you someone to talk to when you’re not racing around the world."

"Well, if you’re around, I’ll have plenty of company," he said with a wink. "And maybe you can teach me how to take care of them without killing them."

"I’d be happy to," I replied, smiling. "But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to choose some low-maintenance plants. Wouldn’t want you to feel overwhelmed."

"Thanks," he said, his tone sincere. "I appreciate that. But seriously, it’ll be nice to have you help me make this place feel more like home."

"Anytime," I said, feeling a warm glow from his words. "Just promise you won’t get any bright ideas about adding a racecar in the living room."

Max chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "No promises. But I’ll try to restrain myself."

He glanced at my luggage and then back at me. "Let me help you with those," he offered, moving towards the pink suitcases. "I’ll take them to the guest room."

As he picked up the bags, I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he handled them. The way his muscles flexed under his shirt made my heart race. It was impossible to ignore how strong and capable he looked, making even the heavy suitcases seem weightless. Every movement seemed to highlight his athletic build, and I found myself momentarily distracted by the sheer physicality of him.

He had insisted on me staying at his apartment for the seven days I was in town, refusing to let me book a hotel. "You’ll be more comfortable here," he had said on our phone call earlier, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was sweet, really, and incredibly sexy watching him take charge like this. The thoughtfulness behind his actions made me feel special and cared for in a way that I hadn’t experienced before.

As he carried my luggage, I couldn't help but admire the ease with which he moved, the definition in his arms and shoulders evident with each step.

I followed him down the hallway, my eyes shamelessly glued to his back, watching the way his muscles shifted beneath his shirt. Each step he took seemed to exude confidence and strength, a silent testament to his physical prowess. I couldn't help but admire how the fabric of his shirt clung to his form, accentuating every line and curve of his well-toned physique.

God, I could talk about his slutty little waist for days. The little fancams they showed on F1TV or YouTube did not do it justice. Seeing him in person, the way his waist tapered into those perfectly fitted jeans, was a whole different experience. It was mesmerizing, almost unfair how well his physique was sculpted.

As he walked ahead of me, the fabric of his shirt stretched taut across his back and narrowed at his waist, highlighting the lean, athletic build that had become a defining part of who he was. It was the kind of detail that fans like me only dreamed about, and here I was, witnessing it up close.

I was such a lucky little bitch.

My mind wandered to the countless hours he must have spent training, not just in the gym but on the track as well. It was a different kind of dedication, one that went beyond what most people understood. There was something undeniably attractive about a person who was so committed to their craft, and it only added to the allure that Max already possessed.

As he led me into the guest room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was Max Verstappen's personal space, a glimpse into the life of someone I had admired from afar. The room was spacious and inviting, with large windows that allowed natural light to flood in, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

Max set my bags down gently and turned to face me, his expression softening. "There you go," he said with a warm smile. "If you need anything, just let me know. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Max," I replied, giving him a grateful smile. "I really appreciate this."

Just as I was about to say more, Max’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. "Sorry, I have to take this," he said, holding up the phone. "It’s important."

"Of course, no problem," I said, waving him off. "Take your time."

Max nodded and stepped out of the room, his voice already lowered as he answered the call. Left alone, I took a moment to absorb my surroundings. The bed looked incredibly inviting with its crisp, clean sheets and plush pillows. The journey had been long, and I could feel the fatigue weighing heavily on me.

Without much thought, I kicked off my shoes and sank onto the bed, the mattress soft and supportive beneath me. The room had a calming aura, and despite my excitement, my eyelids grew heavy. I lay back, letting out a contented sigh as I nestled into the pillows.

The last thing I remembered was the distant murmur of Max's voice from the hallway. The day's exhaustion finally caught up with me, and within moments, I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, completely at ease in the unfamiliar yet comforting space.

જ⁀➴✎ ❛❛Max's POV❞

I couldn’t wait to see her cute face after my phone call.

Ever since she showed up at my door an hour ago, luggage in hand and blushing like mad, I knew I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let go. The way she looked so overwhelmed and charmingly nervous had struck a chord with me. But now, here I was, stuck listening to Lando Norris ramble about his trivial girl troubles when all I wanted was to see her again.

Lando’s voice was like a buzzing fly in my ear, and I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, wishing he'd get the hint and stop talking. His high-pitched voice grated on my nerves as he continued his endless rant about the latest drama in his life. I loved the guy, but seriously, this was not the moment for his soap opera.

“—and you would not believe what she said to me next,” Lando’s voice droned on, each word feeling like a needle in my brain. I barely registered his complaints, lost in my own thoughts about her.

“Max! Are you listening to me??” Lando’s voice suddenly pierced through the fog of my thoughts, making me flinch slightly.

“Mhm...” I trailed off, barely processing the words. My mind was focused entirely on her, on how she looked when she first arrived and how peaceful she appeared when I last saw her.

“Oh, what the bloody fuck mate, you’re not listening. Whatever, I'll talk to you later,” Lando said abruptly. Before I could respond, I heard the familiar click of the call ending.

“Hallelujah,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes in relief. The endless chitter-chatter had finally stopped, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

“Oh, what the fuck,” I suddenly exclaimed, realizing that I had wasted enough time. I should be up and finding my houseguest—my possible future wifey—and spending more time with her. I shot up from my seat, a surge of excitement propelling me forward.

The house had been unusually quiet since I’d gotten off the call, and I was eager to see what she was up to. Maybe she was scrolling through her phone, or perhaps she was just getting comfortable. I tiptoed down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb the calm atmosphere of the house.

As I approached the guest room, I could hear nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioning. My heart skipped a beat as I slowly opened the door, peeking inside to see what awaited me. The sight that met my eyes was unexpectedly delightful. There she was, nestled in the bed, having kicked off the fluffy house shoes I’d given her. Her luggage was neatly set aside, and the room was serene, illuminated by the gentle late afternoon light filtering through the curtains.

Her position on the bed was both endearing and surprisingly casual. She had managed to kick the blankets off completely, leaving them in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. The sight of her sprawled out, so relaxed and at ease, made me pause. She looked incredibly peaceful, her hair spread out like a halo around her, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

My beautiful girl was tired.

A soft smile crept onto my face as I approached her. It was clear that she was deeply asleep, her breathing even and steady. I carefully grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed, making sure not to disturb her. The blanket was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room.

In her sleep, she shifted slightly, letting out little breaths.

As I gently draped it over her, I couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked in this vulnerable state.

The way her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were closed made her seem even more endearing. She had a certain tranquility about her that was utterly captivating. It was a rare and precious sight, and I felt a surge of affection just watching her. Her presence in my apartment, in my space, felt strangely comforting and intimate.

I adjusted the blanket carefully, ensuring it covered her snugly. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, which made me breathe a sigh of relief I didn't realize that I had been holding. I took a moment to appreciate how serene and beautiful she looked. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept was calming to observe, and it made me feel even more connected to her.

I lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, letting the peaceful scene sink in.

In that moment, I really wanted to be her boyfriend. Even though I had just met her in real life a mere forty minutes ago, I wanted to give her everything that she wanted and deserved.

I imagined us spending more time together, exploring new places, and sharing our dreams and fears. I wanted to be the person who made her feel special and loved, who supported her in all her endeavors and celebrated her successes. The thought of being that person for her was more appealing than I’d ever expected.

It wasn’t just about the romantic gestures or grand declarations; it was about the everyday moments of care and attention. I wanted to be there for her in the small, meaningful ways—like making sure she was comfortable, listening to her stories, and sharing in her joys and struggles.

Don't call me naive, but I really, really, really like her.

જ⁀➴✎ ❛❛Y/N's POV❞

In my dreamless state, I could still remember a few things. Like the warm breath of someone hovering over me. I could feel watchful eyes on my back, curious, worried, then relieved. I remember feeling gentle hands pulling my blanket from the foot of the bed to my shoulders, gently covering me.

And when I woke up, I really questioned whether what I felt was a dream. In my room it was silent, almost no trace of whether someone was there or not.

The only anomaly was the fact that before, I had completely shut the door. Now, the door was left ajar, a tiny sliver of the hallway could be seen from where I was propped up in my bed.

Yawning, I could hear the soft hum of the ongoing AC in my room. But if I listened a bit more, I could hear the whirring of the range hood in Max's kitchen further down the hall.

He was cooking?

Wow. Call me surprised.

A few days ago when we called on Discord, he had narrated a few cooking horror stories that had happened to him.

I remembered one particularly gruesome story he shared, one that sounded like it came straight out of a sitcom. It was supposed to be a simple pasta dinner. Max had invited a few friends over, and in his eagerness to impress them with his culinary skills, he decided to make everything from scratch.

(I know, I know, he told me he wanted to have his little Nara Smith moment...I'll give it to him, I guess)

It started with the sauce. He had carefully selected ripe tomatoes and fresh herbs, determined to make the best marinara his friends had ever tasted. But things quickly went downhill. First, he accidentally doubled the amount of garlic. Not a huge issue, right? Just a little more flavor. But then, in his attempt to balance it out, he added way too much salt. Desperate to fix it, he threw in some sugar, which somehow made it even worse.

Next came the pasta. Max had repeatedly watched one Nara Smith video of her making fresh pasta and he figured it couldn’t be that hard.

News flash, incorrect answer buzzer.

He miscalculated the flour-to-egg ratio, resulting in a sticky, unmanageable dough. By the time he managed to roll it out, the dough was uneven and tearing. When he finally got it into the pot, it clumped together into a gooey mess.

Meanwhile, the kitchen was descending into chaos. The range hood was whirring at full blast, struggling to keep up with the smoke billowing from the pan. In his panic, Max forgot to turn the stove down, and the sauce began to boil over, spilling onto the burner and creating a scorched, acrid smell that filled the entire apartment.

Then came the final straw. Max decided to make garlic bread as a last-minute addition. He put it in the oven and got so distracted by the pasta disaster that he forgot about it entirely. By the time he remembered, the bread was more akin to charcoal, emitting a foul, burnt odor that overpowered even the smell of the burnt sauce.

His friends (He told me it was Lando, Daniel, and Carlos) arrived just in time to witness the aftermath. The kitchen was a war zone, with sauce splattered everywhere, clumps of dough sticking to various surfaces, and smoke lingering in the air. The range hood was doing its best, but it was no match for the chaos Max had created.

His friends tried to be polite (Well maybe Daniel and Carlos did but Lando certainly was not), but the horrified expressions on their faces said it all.

Max ended up ordering pizza, and the story became an infamous legend among his friends. They still teased him about it, making jokes about his "gourmet" cooking skills whenever they had the chance.

It was quite a funny story, as Max had vlogged the whole thing, originally wanting to use the video footage as evidence that he could actually cook.

That's fucking hilarious, if you ask me.

When he showed the video footage, I was quite literally cracking up. I swear I had never laughed as hard as I did in my life when he showed me it.

Remembering that story now, I couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he was back in the kitchen, despite that disastrous experience, said a lot about his determination.

And maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. I decided to get up and see for myself what he was up to, hoping that I wouldn't walk into another kitchen catastrophe.

On that account, I found myself to be, again, very much wrong.

It smelled funny in the kitchen.

There was a peculiar mix of something burnt and something…well, unidentifiable. As I approached, the smell intensified, and I began to worry. I rounded the corner to find Max standing over the stove, looking flustered. Smoke billowed up from the pan, and the range hood was struggling to keep up.

"Max, what on God's green earth are you doing?" I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice. I was also, clearly failing at that too, as a hitch in my voice gave away what I was truly feeling.

Dear reader, I was about to burst into a torrential fit of laughter.

He glanced up, his face a mix of sheepishness and determination. "I was trying to make fried rice with beef and onions, but...uh, things aren't going as planned."

I raised an eyebrow. "Clearly. What happened?"

He sighed, waving a hand at the pan. "Well, first, I realized there wasn't much food in the fridge to begin with. I found some rice, a bit of beef, and an onion. Seemed like enough for a simple dish, right? But then the beef started to stick to the pan, so I added more oil, which made the onions cook too fast and burn. And now the rice is clumping together and sticking to everything."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Max, you are a disaster in the kitchen. This is even worse than the pasta incident."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, I know. But I wanted to impress you. Clearly, I'm failing miserably."

I walked over and peered into the pan. The beef was charred in some spots and raw in others, the onions were practically disintegrated, and the rice looked like a sticky, burnt mess. "Impressive isn't exactly the word I'd use," I teased.

He grinned, despite the chaos. "Hey, at least I'm trying, right? That's got to count for something."

I shook my head, laughing. "It counts for effort, sure. But maybe you should stick to ordering takeout."

He gave me a mock serious look. "Or, you could teach me. You're the one with the design ideas. Maybe you have some cooking tips too?"

I pretended to think about it. "Hmm, I suppose I could. But only if you promise to listen and not improvise."

Max chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. "I promise. No more kitchen disasters."

I smiled, feeling a warm rush of affection. "Alright, let's see what we can salvage here. First things first, let's get rid of this burnt mess."

As we started cleaning up, Max kept sneaking glances at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, I didn't just burn the food on purpose to get you to come out here and help me, but it's a nice bonus."

I rolled my eyes, playfully nudging him with my shoulder. "Nice try, Verstappen. But if you keep burning things, I might have to take over all the cooking."

"Deal," he said, his grin widening. "As long as you stay."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I couldn't help but smile. "You're lucky I'm a sucker for a cute guy who tries to cook."

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "And you're lucky I'm persistent. Now, let's make something edible before we both starve."

I glanced at the pitiful remains of our attempted fried rice. "Or," I suggested, "we could go to the grocery store and get some proper ingredients. Maybe start from scratch with something we can't mess up."

Max's eyes lit up with excitement. "A late-night grocery run? That sounds like a great idea. It's only 8 PM; we've got plenty of time."

I smiled, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of a spontaneous adventure. "Alright then, let's go. But first, let me change out of these pajamas."

Max grinned, leaning a little closer. "Deal. I'll clean up here while you get ready. But you know, you look pretty cute in those pajamas. Maybe we should make it a pajama party instead?"

I rolled my eyes playfully, feeling my cheeks warm. "Nice try, but I think I'll stick with something a bit more appropriate for public."

Max chuckled. "Alright, but don't keep me waiting too long. The sooner we get to the store, the sooner we can start our culinary masterpiece."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, now it's a culinary masterpiece? You have high hopes, Mr. Verstappen."

He shrugged, flashing a charming smile. "What can I say? I'm an optimist. Plus, with you by my side, how could it be anything but perfect?"

I laughed, shaking my head as I headed to the guest room to change. "We'll see about that. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Max's voice followed me down the hall. "I'll be counting the seconds, chef."

After changing into something more appropriate—a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater—I met Max in the living room. He had cleaned up the kitchen mess and was now waiting by the door, car keys in hand.

At the door, I slipped on a pair of Birkenstocks, leaning on Max to stabilize myself. Feeling myself slipping all of a sudden, Max grabbed onto my waist and steadied me up. His grip was firm, and I could feel the warmth of his hand through my shirt, sending a little shiver down my spine.

"Careful there," he teased, his voice low and close to my ear. "Wouldn't want you to fall for me… again."

I glanced up at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, Max. It seems like you're getting pretty good at catching me."

He smirked, his hand still resting on my waist, holding me just a little closer than necessary. "Well, practice makes perfect, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, the playful tension between us impossible to ignore. "You might need a few more tries, though. I’m a bit of a klutz."

He chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against my side. "Lucky for you, I’ve got all the time in the world." My heart was quite literally beating out of my chest and the sexual tension was getting to me. Noticing my beet red face, Max continued.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Ready," I replied, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. (And still giggly from the whole previous ordeal)

Max held the door open for me with a dramatic flourish. "After you, my lady," he said with a mock bow.

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully. "Such a gentleman. You really know how to impress a girl."

As we headed down to the underground garage, Max couldn't resist a bit more teasing. "So, do you have a grocery list, or are we winging it?"

"I think we should wing it," I said, grinning. "Who knows, maybe we'll discover some hidden culinary talents."

"Or set off the smoke alarm again," Max added, smirking.

I nudged him with my elbow. "Hey, I'm a decent cook. I promise I won't let you burn anything."

"Good to know," he replied, his smile widening as we reached his Aston Martin Vantage.

The sleek car gleamed under the garage lights, and I couldn't help but admire it. "Nice ride," I said, running a hand over the smooth surface.

"Thanks," Max said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I figured it would make a good impression."

"You figured right," I said with a wink.

As we pulled out onto the street, the city lights cast a warm glow over everything. The drive through the city was peaceful, the streets mostly empty at this hour. We chatted casually, the conversation flowing easily as we navigated through the urban maze. Max seemed to know the city well, effortlessly weaving through the streets as we made our way to the nearest grocery store.

As we drove through the city, the conversation continued to flow easily. "So, what kind of snacks are we getting?" Max asked, glancing over at me.

"Definitely some chocolate," I replied. "Maybe some chips too. What about you?"

"I was thinking ice cream," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, for dessert after our gourmet fried rice."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You and your sweet tooth. Fine, we'll get ice cream. But only if you promise not to eat it all in one sitting."

"Deal," Max said, grinning. "I promise to save some for you."

"Max I've seen you devour so much food in one sitting, are you sure you are keeping that promise?" I roll my eyes in mock frustration.

He smirked, glancing over at me. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy."

"Growing boy, huh?" I teased. "Last time I checked, you were already fully grown."

"Just because I'm tall and handsome doesn't mean I can't still grow," he shot back, winking.

I snorted. "Tall and humble, too. Such a rare combination."

"Only for you," he said, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "I reserve my best qualities for special occasions."

"Well, aren't I lucky?" I said with a laugh. "I guess I'll have to make sure to keep you around for more grocery runs."

"Hey, I'll take any excuse to spend time with you," he replied smoothly. "Even if it means resisting the urge to eat all the ice cream."

I pretended to ponder his words. "Hmm, maybe I should test your willpower. Get a couple of pints and see how long they last."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me?"

"Maybe I am," I said, grinning. "Think you can handle it?"

"Oh, I can handle it," Max said confidently. "But can you handle me winning?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "We'll see about that. Just don't cry when I catch you sneaking spoonful's in the middle of the night."

"You're on," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "But be warned, I play to win."

The hum of the Aston Martin's engine was a soothing backdrop to our conversation. The car's interior was luxurious, with plush leather seats and a state-of-the-art dashboard. I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as we sped through the city, the lights blurring past us in a kaleidoscope of colors.

"So, do you do this often?" I asked, glancing over at Max.

"Late-night grocery runs?" he replied with a grin. "Not really, but I'm always up for an adventure."

I laughed, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between us. "Well, I think this might be the most exciting grocery run I've ever been on."

Max chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Just wait until we get there. I might even let you pick out some snacks."

"Now you're talking," I said, grinning. "I will never not indulge in big back activities," The prospect of picking out snacks together felt oddly intimate, a small but meaningful step in getting to know each other better.

"Hey! You can definitely tell a lot about a person based on their favorite snacks. People who simply like spicy shrimp crackers are superior!"

Max raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. "Spicy shrimp crackers? That’s a bold choice. I guess we'll see if our snack preferences align."

"They better," I said, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance. With that, we stepped outside, the crisp air greeting us as we made our way to the grocery store. The city buzzed around us, but all I could focus on was the warmth of his presence beside me and the anticipation of what was quickly becoming an unexpectedly perfect day.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 278,121 others

yourusername: what in the #domesticlife...#breadbedandbred

view comments:

maxverstappen1: This is a VERY misleading caption, Y/N

maxverstappen1: Nice post, though (please change the caption)

maxverstappen1: Christian also said that the caption is "sussy as hell"... whatever that means

user1: BYEEEE christian "horny" horner strikes again 🤕

user2: ain't nothing SOFT about this LAUNCH y/n 😖😖🤯🫣

yourusername: 🫣🫣🫣

user3: not her casually serving in a groccery store at night, i aspire to be second-slide-y/n

user4: DAMNNNNN IM SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY TNNNN GUYS 😐��

user5: AYO MAX

user5: hand placement.... you better WATCH yourself

user6: guys i need this so bad, accepting bf applications RIGHT NOW

user7: dude.... Dude.... DUDEEEEE

user8: his gorilla ass grip on the hook of her jean hook im ILL guys I'M SO ILL 🤕🤕

user9: u r so right queen, it's giving #domestic #hubbyandbubby #narasmithlife #walkhimlikeadog

yourusername: i like #walkhimlikeadog 🤯

maxverstappen1: I like #hughimlikeacat better 😌

yourusername: 🐶🐶🐶 ARF MAX

maxverstappen1: You are very VERY weird, Y/N 🤣🤣🤣😂😅

yourusername: ARF ARF ARFFFFF 🐕🐕🐩

user10: we got #walkhimlikeadog daughter versus #hughimlikeacat son before gta 6 😈😈😈🥲

landonorris: Damn, Max, get a grip, you are getting SOFT my boy 😹😹😹

maxverstappen1: Not funny, Lando

yourusername: 😹😹😹

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist: @hiireadstuff @sinofwriting @mehrmonga @the-untamed-soul @glai1023-blog @loloekie @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sheastri @llando4norris @gwginnyweasley @carmenita122 @ririyulife @pausmoon @ur-fav-ave @eveninggstar @maddie-naps @erin-odonnell04 @rexit-mo @ems-alexandra @si1ver06 @iamred-iamyellow @bibissparkles @percypie @formula1blog @lanadelray1989 @rylieverstappen-sargent @luvsforme @eiaaasamantha @kaysmiles42 @mvaldez7821 @stinkyjax @sweate-r-weathe-r @laneyspaulding19 @mingyusbigrighttoe @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @stinkyjax @fandomz-queenie @theblueblub @mayusaatma @lanadelrey @formula1-motogpfan

some of these didn't get tagged, and i'm having trouble (?) it's being very weird, idk, so please let me know if your name is here and it didn't tag you ❣️

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

[shxtodxroki]

𝙸.... 𝚆𝚘𝚗?

Summary: It’s time for exams at U.A., and as the students of class 1-A are pit against each other in one-on-one battles, it seems as if Denki’s instantly doomed to lose as he’s paired up against Katsuki Bakugo of all opponents. All of Denki’s classmates have always underestimated his abilities, but with you cheering him on, he manages to pull off the amazing feat you always believed he could.

Flufftober Day 4 Prompt: Cinderella Moment

Warnings: There’s some mentions of insecurities on Denki’s behalf due to teasing (this isn’t meant to villainize any other 1-A students to be clear, teenagers are stupid and we sometimes go too far with teasing our friends or don’t see how it affects them, but none of them are meant to be seen maliciously or as villains in this just to be clear)

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

Denki knew that he’d never been considered one of the strongest in your class, he could see how the consequences of reaching his limit on his powers could be entertaining to his classmates and he understood that he hadn’t demonstrated any exceptional skills in comparison to his classmates. It was clear they'd meant no harm when they’d teased him as classes went on, and he could understand why everyone expected Bakugo to beat him in this exam. Hell, even he expected Bakugo to come out victorious in the end, like it was just a pre-determined course of fate that he had absolutely no hope of changing.

But there was one person who had faith in him, one person who wanted him to win and truly believed he could do it. 

You, the sound of your voice encouraging him before his turn came up and the image of you beaming at him, possibly even holding him close in a warm, tender hug if he were to somehow win, managed to spark the passion inside of him that had long laid dormant while attending U.A., and Denki knew right then and there that he had to win at any cost. If not for his own pride and accomplishments, then certainly for you and your unwavering belief in him.

You knew Denki couldn’t hear you while he was in his exam, that much was obvious. As much as you wished you could cheer him on through this, knowing how anxious he must have been at the thought of facing Bakugo of all people in a one-on-one fight, you’re unfortunately left as nothing more than a mere spectator as you watch him through the cameras displayed in front of you and desperately pray that he can win this. You knew he had the strength, you knew he was more than what everyone else in your class seemed to see him as. You could see the strength lying dormant within him, bubbling up and waiting for the perfect chance to erupt ever since the first day of classes. You were certain he could win this if he tried, so you simply watched in anxious anticipation, your eyes fixated on the pixelated image of him across the large TV screens.

Though he couldn’t physically see them, Denki could absolutely feel the presence of your eyes on him as he entered the exam arena. He knew his other classmates were watching him too, but right now, all he could think about was you. About how badly he wanted to prove you right and show that you believing in him wasn’t a mistake. He wanted more than anything to be the person you believed he was, and so he stood in the exam arena with a more sturdy resolve than ever before even as Bakugo’s unforgiving eyes pierced into his own shaky ones. Now wasn’t the time to let his aggressive, harsh classmate shake him up, so he forced himself through a round of deep breaths to calm the nerves flowing through his veins as the timer for the beginning of the exam began to down and echo all around them.

He felt too aware of everything, as if every hair on his body was standing on its end and every nerve ending was hyper-ware. The dust shifting beneath his feet, the wind just barely blowing through his hair, the electricity charging up within his fingertips, so many sensations bombarded his thoughts at one. Bakugo’s icy, borderline murderous glare would normally have him shaking where he stood, but today, he refused to cave. So as the alarm sounded for the exam to begin, Denki quickly took to the far end of the arena opposite of Bakugo’s starting post, attempting to glance over the exam location as he ran and form a plan despite Bakugo’s immediate pursuit of him. 

Denki just had to be fast enough to maintain distance between the two of them for now, until he could come up with a plan. He forced his legs to run faster to keep the lead, unwilling to give up this fight even as his friend’s booming voice screamed out for him to give up from behind him. “Come on, come on….” He muttered to himself, frustration evident in his voice as he attempted to block out all outside noises and concentrate. How could he defeat Bakugo? What could he use to his advantage that would let him win this seemingly impossible battle?

His mind operated faster than ever before as Denki charged towards a large building at the far end of the arena, as the base concoction of a plan began brewing in his mind. It was dodgy at best, and it relied heavily on one particular assumption, but it was the best chance Denki had at succeeding and proving his worth in that moment with so little time to spare. And knowing Bakugo better than most others in the class, Denki felt more confident than expected with the assumption his plan set faith in, so with one last glance behind him, he solidified his resole and burst through the doors of the building as he put his plan into action. He knew he likely had a minute or less before his opponent would reach the building, so he instantly got to work as he found a suitable temporary hiding spot and swiftly set each moving part of his plan into motion. 

Exactly fourty-five seconds later Bakugo stormed through the doors behind his target, shattered glass raining onto the floor in his wake as his eyes frantically searched for his prey. He was (underwhelmingly for Denki) barely affected by the complete lack of light courtesy of the shut-off power his opponent had rushed to create, and Bakugo's ears quickly perked up at the sound of machinery a few floors above. A wolfish grin spread across his face, nearly consuming him as he stalked upstairs with the grace and precision of a madman on the run. He wasn’t even bothering to be careful, barely holding in his laugh as this victory had practically already fallen into his lap. Leave it to Denki to reveal his hiding spot by making too much noise, he nearly made it too easy for Bakugo to strike.

He barely paid mind to the heaviness of his stomps as he reached the top of the staircase, rushing over to the source of the sound of appliances whirring at lightning speed. The laugh that Bakugo had been biting back came out full-force as he realized that the dunce face had not only been careless, but he had quite literally left a trail leading right to his location, leading the wolf directly to his prey. The copier on this floor had been turned on, no doubt thanks to Denki’s careless running as he likely bumped into it on his way to what was clearly his final hiding spot; the broom closet in the back corner.

The sound of an electric vacuum whirring on and off made it clear that Denki was hidden in there, and was likely scrambling to power the machine down after accidentally setting it off in his rush to hide. If he were anyone else, Bakugo likely would have felt bad about his classmate’s unfortunate circumstances, but being the boy he was, he felt no shame or pity as he charged full-force into the broom closet, launching off one of his explosive blasts without a second thought while harnessing the power of one of his gauntlets that he had been warming up while entering.

And poor Bakugo, he had just made a fatal mistake. And he hadn’t even realized it yet.

He got cocky, and moreover, he got careless.

Denki had known with near certainty that his friend would underestimate him, that he would easily believe that Denki had been foolish enough to leave a trail of clues in his wake as he rushed off to cower in fear of his impending defeat. Bakugo seemed to have completely forgotten that Denki’s electric control also allowed him to control electronics remotely, too distracted by his seemingly easy win to think more clearly about the obvious trap he had walked straight into. Denki's entire plan had banked off of this assumption, and now it was coming to fruition.

The buzz of the copier and the electric vacuum, as well as the explosive outburst of Bakugo’s own gauntlets, perfectly covered up the sound of Denki’s soft and careful footsteps to his opponent’s ears as he crept up behind him, charging up his electricity as he felt static coursing through him. Thanks to the dust clouding the air from the explosion, Bakugo still hadn’t realized yet that he hadn’t caught his target after all as he cackled in his believed victory. Denki allowed himself to intake one last heavy, silent breath, before setting his eyes on Bakugo with pure determination. This was it, it was now or never.

He charged without a moment of hesitation, taking hold of Bakugo by the torso as his arms trapped the man in a prison-tight embrace as he instantly set off the maximum voltage output he could through his body without putting his friend at genuine risk. Just enough to win the battle, without doing any serious damage. Or so he hoped, as he waited a few moments before letting go of his enemy’s body to see what he had accomplished.

And as Katsuki’s now unconscious body swiftly fell from his arms and landed unceremoniously on the floor, time seemed to stop for Denki. His mind was silent, and he didn’t even register the alarm blaring to announce the end of the exam. Nothing clicked until he felt a warm set of arms wrap around him, pulling him into a cozy embrace and snapping him out of the daze he had been in as his eyes were met with the sight of your gorgeous face.

“Oh my god, Denki, you did it!” You were positively radiating with excitement, the smile on your face infecting him like a virus. Your words didn’t compute in his brain immediately, but your bright grin was immediately matched across his own face as he returned your hug without a second thought. “I knew you could, I’m so proud of you!”

And that was when his victory finally set in, the moment when his jaw fell wide in shock as he looked down at you with a mix of butterflies and pure joy swelling in his stomach. “I…. won?”

The questioning tone of his voice makes you laugh like a beautiful melody as you pulled him in for another hug, causing him to go weak in the knees as Denki’s hands tentatively began to lightly trail up and down your back. The way you nodded so eagerly in reponse to his question had his head spinning, both from his exhaustion after the intense battle he faced and from the nearly all-consuming wave of affection you had caused within him thanks to your soothing hug. He didn’t even bother to hide the increasing red flush painted across his face as he simply held you in his arms, so happy to have made you proud after seeing just how certainly you had believed in him. He had done it, he had managed to face this challenge and beat it, and it was all thanks to you.

Now he just had to man up and finally ask you out, but he allowed himself to put that off until later as Denki melted into your warm embrace with a satisfied, lovestruck grin lighting up his face and basked in the glory of his unexpected victory.

Request - Anonymous said: if you could, would you mind writing for shouto and/or denki for flufftober, please???

A/N: I wasn’t super sure what to do with this one at first, so I hope this fits decently enough with today’s prompt! I need to catch up a bit on these lol, today was the first day where I didn’t have the fic ready at least a day in advance so hopefully I’ll be able to catch up! I really wanna keep up and be on time with this event, I’m having a lot of fun with it and I hope you guys are enjoying it so far as well! I’m really excited for some of the stuff I have coming up on later days hehe :] Also my requests are currently open, so please feel free to send in your requests if you have any, and I hope you guys are enjoying Flufftober so far!

Taglist: @flufftober @pasteldaze @yeagerfushiguro @papijean @trashy-bowtie @thekaylahub @palenightmarepersona @eunoiasa @applepie-macaroon @ghostofscarley @blesshouto @tsukkisukkii @awkwardaardvarkforever @kiaratheace @shotos-angelic-whore

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support &lt;3

[dimalink]

Mystical Star I -  tent in a snow

Pixel art for today based on videogame Ultima 4 Quest of Avatar for computer system MSX. Unbelievable and advanced role-playing game. As good as Might and Magic, Wizardry. And one more title – Ultima. Huge world, train a character. Mystery, which is covered in the world. Story with fantasy.

But, as things goes, it is, also, a place for a science fiction. And, game for imagination. In such games, imagination of the player, has a good role, it plays a big role, it takes a big place. Sea of adventures. And territory for travel. Dungeons. Castles. Sorcery. Magic. All of these, of course, will be there! Something unbelievable all the time happens in a world, when you run such kind of game! Just like you fall into another world. And it is starting point for explore and character training!

And, this is my drawing based on. Everything starts in a cold winter day. When searcher for adventures walks the forest. It was cold. And, it was a magic and such beautiful snow. Everything was in white. And trees were black.

You walk for a long time, until snow start to close your eyes. And, it appears a tent before the eyes. It was here and not here. Just like when you enter it. You find yourself in space. Amongst the stars. And space lost its coordinates. There was a sorcerer with a ball, and sorcerer points you a way. He said, that your time has come! And mystical star will show you a road.

When you wake up. You start to think, that it was dream. Beautiful and interesting, but only a dream. But, with you – it was a sword with a name Mystical Star. In the sky, it was a shining, something bright and white explodes. And you decide to go there. You knew, that you need to go there! Snow ends. And, even, it is getting warmer.

Your mystical sword makes a shine, when you go in the night. And, mystical star, every, night makes a light in the sky. She is now like a lighthouse for you. Maybe, you are cursed. And, you cannot to go some other way. So, you go through snow plain for several days. To see a place, where shining light was fallen, which you see several days ago.

You have, already, seen, several times, a creatures of the night, which with no fear can to walk during the day. It was wolf mans, werewolf, and taken by force controlled creatures. And, if not your new sword – you will never win the fight with them. But, even this way, every battle goes hard. And, every enemy is unique. Enemy have intelligence. But, from other hand, he is in blood addiction. It makes him to do mistakes. And every mistake you catch.  Sword is like sings in your hands.

Fantasy role playing game picture. As a trilogy of Krynn. Krynn. Death Knights of Krynn. Dark Queen of Krynn. For example. Retro. 80s. There is a game on the map there. And part of the game with pictures and text. Of course, there are labyrinths. And discovery of territory. You need to explore everything. To search items. Upgrade your characters heroes. Read text with the story.

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/

TUMBLR: https://dimalink.tumblr.com/ BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/ MASTODON: https://mastodon.social/@DimaLink

[piracytheorist]

Anime seconds per Manga pages

I was curious about the distribution of anime minutes dedicated for each chapter of the Spy x Family manga, and because it was much easier than counting the separate screen time each character has, I decided to just make a new count project, lol.

So here we have for each manga chapter, how many pages it has and how many minutes its respective anime episode dedicated in the adaptation. I'm including each chapter in the order in which it was shown in the anime, aside from the introductory three pages that were shown in the beginning of episode 3.

My rules for counting the screen time for each chapter:

Episode title cards do not count when they're separate from the action, when they're just a black screen, or a separate title screen (like the Dodgeball and Arts and Crafts/Griffin episodes). Only exception is for chapter 42, since the manga chapter has the same title card.

The end credits from the first episode where no main characters are visible don't count.

Episode recaps by a narrator don't count (the recap in episode 7 which is told by Twilight counts).

Repeated scenes from the end of an episode to the next (like episodes 8 to 9 or episodes 13 to 14) count.

In blue are the number of pages, while the light red are the minutes dedicated to the specific chapter.

Naturally, in the first half of season 1, episodes 3 and 6 have the smallest differences, since they have a lot of additional scenes that weren't in the manga. Taking the total seconds of each section and dividing them by the page numbers, we get this graph:

Which practically shows how many seconds per chapter page the episode dedicated. Not in a practical sense, but it gives a perspective, an average.

So we see that Chapter 6 (Castle Rescue Mission) has the highest rate, considering how many added scenes the episode had; showing the Forgers walk to the school, Anya having a "ritual dance", and of course, the whole expanded Loidman section. Quite far back is Chapter 3 (the Forgers going on their first outing together) which also has additional scenes; Yor arriving at the Forger house and being given a tour by Anya, Anya painting at the museum kids place, the family visiting the tailor shop, and going for a family photo. All that is still not enough to surpass the Loidman Spectacular, lol! Right behind it is Short Mission 4 (Henderson taking a jog) which while not exactly expanded, it had a lot of focus on each part. Right behind it is Chapter 15 (Dodgeball game) which also had a lot of additional scenes in the anime.

The rest of the chapters are pretty balanced in how much anime time they're given, though interestingly Chapter 13 (Twiyor failing to kiss and Yor sending Yuri flying across the room) is very tightly adapted, getting pretty much the same treatment as the very first chapter, which I personally find very perfectly balanced in how tightly it's adapted.

I also included the prologue, since it's given its own part, though you can see how quickly it goes by each image (it may be three pages long but it's only four images, lol)

On to the next cour!

Aside from a few short missions and the "omelet rice" extra part, the page numbers and minutes dedicated are pretty balanced. Here is the chart for second/page:

Aaaaaaand "Omelet Rice" has an absolute sweep! It's only a page long in the manga, but it takes an entire minute and a half of screen time, showing Yor's foods in (pixelated) detail, as well as poor Yuri's reactions to them, and actually shows him telling her she'll be a catch and Yor slapping him to another dimension in embarrassment, as well as a slightly prolonged scene of Yuri's captain telling him to be careful. It's actually so funny how much screen time that little page got, lol. It's the only part that surpasses a minute dedicated per page in the entire anime so far.

Next up is Short Mission 2 (Franky practicing dates with Twilight to woo Monica) which I actually hadn't noticed that it got that much detail. It doesn't even have any additional scenes, it just adapts each scene with a lot of detail.

The rest is pretty balanced, with Short Mission 3 (Bond ripping the penguin plushie) being the one that's the most tightly adapted.

Season 2!

The cruise arc was quite tightly adapted!

Chapters 44 to 56 are the Cruise Arc, and we can see those chapters have the lowest numbers in the season, each and every one getting fewer than 30 seconds per page, with Chapters 51 and 52 (beginning and action of the assassin fight on the top deck) being the most dense in screen time. Despite that, I don't think it was rushed at all! I think they managed a great balance showing all the action in it. Chapter 40 (Bond helping Twilight get the truth serum) also is quite tightly adapted. I think that shows in how it shows some of Bond's city adventures as still images; if they had more time for this part, they might have animated those too.

Chapters 57 (Anya lying to her classmates about the cruise) and Chapter 58 (Bond and Loid fire rescue) have an asterisk because I wasn't exactly sure how much time to count. For Chapter 57, I didn't count the scenes of Yor giving her coworkers their gifts, the flashback of the family buying them, Yuri telling his captain how excited he is to see Yor again, and Loid putting on the lovey-dovey bedsheets. I only started counting from the moment the scene changes to the school, since technically the scenes mentioned above are bonus scenes that are not connected to the chapter (aside from Yuri saying he can't wait to see Yor again, but still, it feels like a stretch). They're closer to the bonus parts of like, Yor bringing Anya her gym clothes, than an extended or expanded scene...

Like in the last episode of Season 2, where Loid announcing to the family he'll take Bond for a walk and Anya making origami stars are additional scenes, but they are intertwined with the chapter. I feel like it's a different case here... in any case, it doesn't make a huge difference, lol. The post-credits scene that shows each character separately was not counted for that.

And here are all the so-far adapted chapters, though since I couldn't make Excel change the order (and it would take too long to copy-paste each set on my own), it starts from the bottom going up.

It's literally so funny how Omelet Rice is towering over everything else, lmao. This makes it obvious that the most expanded chapter so far has been Chapter 6, and the tightest one is chapter 52, aside from the prologue.

(I forgot to change the order of chapters 58 and 59, oops. Oh well XD)

Big thanks to @yumeka-sxf for their Story Guide, which was a huge help in putting all of that info together!