#file under everything overlaps

[melcirsium]

I am so mad that "you're scared of nothing, just do it" works. I want to be reasonable! If brain goes there's a problem, I want there to be a problem! But brain also thinks emails are scary and needs an Adult to hold its hand and say it'll be okay

[usergif]

HOW TO: Cross-Fade Multiple Gifs

Hi! In this tutorial, I'm going to go over how I typically do a fade transition that works with Video Timeline. Disclaimer: This tutorial assumes you have a basic understanding of gif-making in Photoshop and requires the use of keyframes.

Before I start, if you're wondering "why don't you just use the cross fade tool on the Timeline?" — this thing:

It doesn't work for me 🤷🏻‍♀️ Something happens when converting from Video Timeline back to Frame Animation (the converting everything into a smart object step) that completely negates the cross fade whenever I use it. I'm not sure why, but this is why I do fade transitions the way I'm about to explain.

PHASE 1: THE GIFS

1.1 – Determine how many frames you need. There are 3 things to remember here: 1) Ideally, each gif section should have the same amount of frames, so the transitions feel evenly spaced. 2) The gif's dimensions and total number of frames affect file size. Your final exported gif needs to be under 10MB (Tumblr's limit), so you should consider the total number of frames in relation to the size of your gif. My example gif is 540x540px and 60 frames total; final file size = 7.8MB. 3) Add 4 extra frames to each section to account for the cross-faded portion. (The reason I chose 4 specifically is because Video Timeline works in 0.03-second intervals. The typical duration of my fade transitions is 0.06 seconds — which, when converted back to frames, is 4 frames.) I knew 60 total frames would be a safe bet for a gif this size. Since I had 3 gif sections, each would be 20 frames. I added 4 additional frames, making each one 24 frames (before removing duplicates in the exporting process, which will be explained in Phase 3). You can make your transitions longer than 0.06, but I recommend keeping it to intervals of 0.03 due to the way Timeline works. Every 0.03 seconds = 2 frames, so use this when deciding how many extra frames you'll need.

1.2 – Import frames, crop, and resize. Do this as you normally would! If you need a tutorial for the basics, here's my tutorial. :)

1.3 – Move all gifs onto one document/canvas. Right-click the gif layer and select "Duplicate Layer:"

Then choose the appropriate document from the dropdown list:

Do this for each gif section so you can work on one document for the rest of the process.

1.4 – Put each gif into its own group. Select each layer and use the shortcut Command+G or right-click and select "Group from Layers." In Phase 2, we'll be putting the opacity keyframes on the groups instead of the individual layers.

1.5 – Arrange each gif's group on the Timeline. At the end of Gif 1, move backwards 6 times. Move the starting point of Gif 2 to this spot. At the end of Gif 2, move back 6 times and make this Gif 3's starting point. Here's how my gifs look arranged on the Timeline, animated so you can see the 6-space distance:

We'll be adding keyframes to these overlapping sections in Phase 2.

1.6 – Set up the last transition. At the very beginning of the Timeline, hit the forward button 6 times and click the scissors to divide the clip. Move the starting point of your gif to the newly trimmed beginning as shown below:

Then, move the original beginning chunk of Gif 1 — that tiny 0.06-second clip — to the end of the timeline above the rest of your layers, aligning its end with the end of Gif 3. Put it in a group like you did in Step 1.4:

Note: This screenshot shows my final workspace with the coloring layers in groups and the keyframes already placed.

1.7 – Color your gifs. Do this however you want, just keep all your adjustment layers and any other effects within their respective groups:

Duplicate the adjustment layers from Gif 1 and move them into the folder Gif 1 - Beginning (where your tiny 0.06-second clip is). Be sure the adjustment layers line up with the rest of the group so those adjustments don't affect your other gifs! You may want to trim the adjustment layers to match the duration of the clip or just move them so they start at the same spot as that clip.

PHASE 2: THE KEYFRAMES

2.1 – Place a 100% and 0% keyframe at the beginning of each gif's group. Drag the playhead (red vertical line) to the end of Gif 1. Expand the Gif 2 group to reveal the opacity keyframes on the left side of the Timeline panel, then place a keyframe by clicking the icon that looks like a stopwatch. This opacity keyframe is at 100% by default; leave it like that. Drag the playhead to the beginning of Gif 2 and drop another keyframe. While that new keyframe is highlighted yellow, go to the layers panel, make sure Gif 2's group is selected, and reduce the opacity to 0%.

Repeat these steps for each gif's beginning, including the tiny chunk we moved to the end! Here's a gif to show the process:

(Btw, if you click this gif, it should expand to full size so you can get a better look! I made it 1080px.)

PHASE 3: THE DUPLICATES

3.1 – Convert back to Frame Animation. If you're not sure how to do this, I've written out the steps here. But I recommend using an action in your general gif-making process to make this step a lot faster. The one I use is linked in my tutorial which I linked earlier!

3.2 – Delete duplicate frames. Remember, at the beginning I set out to make my final gif 60 frames total. With the keyframe animations, I now have 66 frames:

Palpatine's number 👎 Anyway, that means I have 6 duplicate frames. This is what the gif looks like without removing these duplicates:

Watch closely during the transitions; there's a tiny lag. It doesn't look smooth to me. It's the clones!! Here's why we have these duplicates:

For every 0.03-second long keyframe animation, you'll get 1 duplicate frame. Unfortunately, that's just how Video Timeline works with any kind of animated keyframe. Since our fade transition is 0.06 seconds, we have to get rid of 2 duplicate frames per transition section (2 x 3 transitions sections = 6 total duplicates. Ew, math!).

There's not really a way to avoid this step that I know of, but it's not a big deal in the long run. You just have to look at each transition section, eyeball the duplicate frames yourself, and delete them. It's usually the first frame where the fade starts and then two frames after that. I already deleted the duplicates from the first two transition sections, so here's how it's done for the last transition:

Side note: I set up keyboard shortcuts so I can quickly move forward and backward by one frame and delete frames. You can do this by going to Edit > Keyboard Shortcuts and editing these:

And now I have 60 frames like I originally said I would!

If you want the transition sections to be quicker, you can even decrease the frame delay for the 3 transition frames only — 0.03 or 0.04 might be up to your speed 🥁 but I don't usually do this since I'm fine with the way it looks already.

3.3 – Export. That's it!

I hope this tutorial is helpful. As always, if you have a specific question about this tutorial, feel free to send us an ask!

[xxblairexxss]

Doudou (Part 4, Lando’s ending)

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Theme : Angst / Fluff

The length difference between Lando’s and Charles’s was because Charles’s was reader’s first love so there was a lot to cover though I cut it short and made it more simple meanwhile Lando’s feelings for reader was hidden so there wasn’t much to explain.

Here’s to more upcoming angst series! 🤎

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“Do you need my help?”

You had just clocked out from work and had to bring a few files with you back home because apparently, your workload today wouldn’t clock out with you. The files were heavy, not that you couldn’t carry it but things like opening the car door became a problem to you.

“Lando! Why are you here?”

“I was stalking you.” You passed the files to him as he got closer and he picked it up with no struggle, not a surprise.

“Yeah, right.”

“I was on my way home and saw a pretty girl struggling so as a gentleman myself, I came to offer a help.” He clarified and opened the door to allow you to walk in before him.

Lando and you had been spending more time together.

More than you met Charles this month.

It was weird because you never thought you could be yourself with anyone else other than Charles. It was weird in some kind of way that you didn’t know how to explain. With Charles, everything felt like a comfort. You felt like spending time with your person. You found contentment with him. With Lando, it felt like spending time with someone who filled in those empty gaps. It’s different, but not the kind of different that would put you in an uncomfortable position but different in terms of having two different colours coinciding with each other but still compliment both sides, like a rainbow.

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“You can put it here!”

Charles placed the small decorative trees that he had helped you picked earlier along the counter. You had told him that you needed a few more things because your kitchen looked so empty and he had offered to accompany you to look for it on your off day.

“It looks good! It kinda match with the paint, isn’t it?” You exclaimed.

“We spent almost 2 hours in the shop, doudou. I would be really disappointed if you didn’t end up liking them.” He wanted to hug you, he would have hugged you but you weren’t his so he just ended up patting your head. “I didn’t know you liked Lego?”

“Lego?”

“That one.” He pointed at the box of Lego across the room.

“Ah, that was Lando’s idea. I promised to help him with it.” You chuckled.

“Lando came here?”

“Yeah, a few times.”

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Charles had invited you to attend a charity event held by one of the official organisers under FiA and you hadn’t been to parties for a while so you accepted his invite.

Lando was there too. He looked good in his suit. You had always seen him in his daily outfits but you never thought seeing him in his suit would possibly made him look even better.

Charles and Lando were one of the main people for the charity events so they were somewhere in the spotlight doing what famous people usually do and you prefer to be somewhere in the corner doing your own matter. You were just here for the vibe, to end your weekend in a better way than movie night but your migraine never fail to ruin your plan.

The flash, the neon lights, the voices of people engaging in conversations overlap with the sound of the loud music. Everything around you made your head throbbed even more you felt like you were gonna throw up any second even when you didn’t even touch any drink. The barista kept on offering you a glass even when you said no which made you wanna punch him in the face. You would had done it if it wasn’t for assault receipt that came after.

You wanted to go home. You needed to go home. So you tried to walk past the strangers to find one person, the only person that you needed right now.

Lando.

You didn’t know why but he was the only person that came to your mind and you wanted him to take you home.

“Doudou, are you alright?” Charles had found you first and he looked concern when you looked up to him with teary eyes. “Is it your migraine? I can take you ho—“

“Can you get Lando for me?”

“What?”

“Please , can you get Lando for me. I wanna go home.”

Charles’s ears started ringing. He didn’t, no, he couldn’t bring himself to say any words. For years, you would always look for him whenever you had any problems. It was always him. But you didn’t call out for his name anymore, you called out for Lando.

Even when he was in front of you.

“Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?” Lando came amidst of everything and immediately went in front of you.

“Can you take me home?”

“Yeah, of course.” He immediately went to your side and pulled you close by your waist. “I’ll take her from here, mate.”

Charles remained silent and took a step back to give space for Lando as he stood there and watched you in someone else’s arms.

He knew he had lost you that night.

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“Stay still, Y/N. You’re gonna be the death of me. I almost poke you in the eye!” Lando heaved a sigh and tilted your head to the side to rub the makeup remover wipes on your cheeks.

“My head hurts.”

“I know, I know but we need to do this first. You told me you’ll get a pimple if you don’t remove it properly.” He gently held your face and took a new makeup wipe to wipe off the eyeliner. “Why do you even wear this much makeup? You tryna impress someone?”

“Excuse you?! Who do men think they are? Do you think girls sit in front of the mirror for hours just to impress the men?” You glared at him and snatched the makeup wipe from him. The audacity for men to assume such thing for women made you forget about your migraine for a second.

“Okay, okay. I was just asking there’s no need to get mad, pretty. Was it fun?”

“What fun?” You didn’t even turn around to look at him and tried to get every bits of the glitter on your eyes.

“Putting on your makeup. Was it fun?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears and locked his gaze on your reflection.

“Yeah. Lia and I used to sit in front of the mirror for hours to do our makeup and we talk about boys, the mean girls, the celebrities. Funny thing was, we didn’t even go anywhere. We just took a few pictures and then washed it off.”

“Did you sit in front of the mirror for hours too for your first date?

“I think so.” You bit on your lips trying to remember about all the details during your first date with Charles. “My first date was a while ago I don’t really remember how long it took for my 17 years old self to get ready for a date.”

“How long would it took for you to get ready for your first date with me?” Lando turned his body around to lean his hips against the bathroom cabinets and bended down to catch your eyes.

“What?”

“I’m asking you out on a date. A proper one. Would you say yes? Not that I’m accepting any other answers.” He shrugged his shoulders, acting all ordinary as if he didn’t just asked you the question.

“Lando, be serious!”

“I am serious! Or you want me to ask you out in a formal way?” He stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Would you, Y/N, would like to give me a chance to take you out on a date? Please?”

“Yeah, sure.” You blushed and smiled shyly at him like a foolish teenage girl. “Just one date?”

“Oh, we gonna make it to 100 dates in no time, pretty. We got a lot of time in our hands.” He sneaked his arm on your waist to pull you close before planting a peck on your nose. “Let’s wash your face and we treat this migraine of yours. Ratatouille again?”

“I could never say to to Ratatouille.”

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You had spoken to Charles on the phone, asking him to meet up as you had something to tell him but he refused. He told you that the new season is starting soon so he didn’t really have much time.

“If you were going to tell me about your answer, I think I already know.” You heard him said on them phone.

“But how?”

“I knew there was something going on between you and Lando when I saw the Lego box. And what happened during charity event last week kinda gave me the answers to every questions I had in mind.”

“I’m sorry…” It broke your heart to hear the way his voice crack.

“Don’t be sorry. As long as you are happy with him, that’s all that matters.”

“Charles, can you promise me one thing?” You could feel a few tears slipped off your cheeks which you didn’t bother to wipe it off.

“What is it, doudou?”

“Promise me to never blame yourself in this matter. It was never your fault. Maybe our chapter was meant to end regardless whatever happened to us that night. I will always, always be so grateful to have met you in my life. There was a never a splash of regret. I would have gone through the same path again again if I was given a chance.”

“Thank you for being with me since the very beginning. I don’t think I could ever be in F1 if it wasn’t because of you. I love you and I will always love you, doudou. I don’t think my heart will ever stop racing when your name gets mentioned in my presence. You will stain my heart forever. The world, my world feels like its collapsing but I’ll eventually rebuild myself. Thank you for everything, doudou. Can I still call you that, though?”

“Of course, silly.”

Charles was actuallt at his apartment when you called and he turned down your offer to meet up because he didn’t know if he was strong enough to look at you in the eyes and see the love you had for him is gone. He thought perhaps it was easier for him to hear your voice on the voice.

But deep down he knew was never prepared to lose you, be it happened in front of him or through a phone call.

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kymillman

Liked by 144,326 others

kymillman Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris first appearances for the new season. Welcome back!

username No Y/N??

username give that poor girl a break she has A JOB

username Lando looks goodddddddd 🥵🥵

username lamdo looks happy wonder what happened during winter break 😂😅

username coughs y/n coughs

username is charles looking nervous or he has always look like that

ynusername

Paris, 6eme

Liked by landonorris, ynbestfriendlia, and 332,348 others

username why are you not in the paddockk

username miss girl slay as usual

username your outfit never miss

ynbestfriendlia okay gurl you should have tagged me as your photographer where’s the credit

username it’s illegal to be this pretty

ynusername has added to their close friend

landoprivate

Liked by ynusername, ynbestfriendlia and 6 others

landoprivate Miss you already.

ynusername I miss youu tooooo 🥺🥺

ynbestfriendlia okay

[gaypleasantview]

Day 2: Rockstar // Face Tattoo Set

Set includes:

⋆ hauntedtrait's Bad Decisions, converted from TS4

⋆ peachyfaerie's Spellbound, converted from TS4

⋆ peachyfaerie's Zodiac Face Tats, converted from TS4

Link, swatch and more info under the cut ♡

Can't believe how long this set took for some reason... Anyway, hi, today I'm bringing you 114 face tattoos! They are all available for TU-EU sims. You can find them in the blush category, and they are divided into layer groups, meaning that your sim can have as many tattoos as you want as long as they don't overlap.

I wasn't sure if blush is the perfect place for them since it's usually cluttered with stuff, but my other option was face paint, which, as far as I'm aware, doesn't normally have custom thumbnails. Which could maybe be changed just like with accessories, but that doesn't show up in Bodyshop anyway, does it? And I would really like for it to be easily accessible in Bodyshop, so. Didn't look into overlay boxes here for the same reason, but maybe it would be a cool wip :)

There's a couple of tats that didn't make the cut, but almost all of them did. Some were separated, some were moved a bit. The textures only work in the face zone, so some of them look a little bit chewed on because they were originally intended to cover the scalp as well. Nothing too extreme tho.

Of course, everything is tooltipped, compressed, and has cute previews. I also tried my best to give all the files clear names because I love when everything is labeled. Important note: when I labeled a tattoo as left or right, I meant the way a sim would see it from their own perspective. Sorry if it's a bit of a mindfuck, just made more sense to me personally, lol.

Credits: aside from the creators that made all of this really cool stuff, I also want to really thank Lifa for their wonderful Birthday Suit skintones that I used in all the in-game previews, specifically the original and the colorful ones (mostly Zodiac, lol). And, of course, The Tattooer, a stunning tool that made it all possible.

☁ Download

SFS | Mediafire

☁ Swatch

⋆ hauntedtrait Bad Decisions. 27 edgy tattoos that inspired me to convert all of this in the first place. Some of these are pretty big. If you hate spiders, be careful – there's a couple.

⋆ peachyfaerie Spellbound. 39 tattoos. Most of these are small and located under the eyes. Many flower-themed images. My personal favorites are the beautiful leaves.

⋆ peachyfaerie Zodiac Face Tats. 48 tattoos. No comment on the color choices for the preview. Anyway, these are quite simple: 4 tattoos for each sign, including symbols and text.

[witchofthesouls]

OH MY STARS! WE TOTALLY NEED SOME WRITING OF BIRB JACK WITH SOUNDWAVE. :000

More AU of a Cyber!Earth!Au with the Darbys directly under Soundwave’s care.

The being that was once June Darby was a dangerous creature.

That ferity hadn't disappeared once he managed to coax her out of that endless dream. Within her, old human sensibilities of civilian life and civilization warred with the new instincts that were capable of devouring everything in its path.

Nor had Soundwave wanted to suppress those instincts fully. To tame them. No; it would serve them both well among the Decepticons and the strange, new world they were navigating. They needed to simply nurture the bridge and guide the process. Ease it.

The inhibition collar had done little to quell the microtransformations as she armed the edges of her robes with serrations, masking it with a deceptive gentleness as the sparklings hid by her legs whenever one of the more foolish mechs attempted anything.

(If anyone was stupid enough to think that June Darby was any less dangerous in a femme root-mode. That the collar was enough after her rampage across the ship as she hunted after her stolen child. It was their own passage to the Unmaker.)

Her son, Jack, echoed it.

Optics blown wide with the white pupil mechanisms drowned out everything else, the sparkling's frame shifted and rippled between the metal of shadowed hull and his own physical body as he mimicked the crooning birds perched upon his shoulder.

Croaking and chattering. A mix between organic ruffling feathers with metal plates sliding and soft transformation seams. It was difficult to discern between the sparkling and the birds. Only the multiple optics popped out of the seamless blend.

In the gleam of those dark, shiny optics, Soundwave saw the reflection of that strange robed figure.

Jack's mouth moved, but it wasn't words, just a spill of noise. Not even birdsong or a close mimicry. A mix of pattering rain, distant rolling thunder, and a gentle breeze through swaying branches.

The boy met his visor and seared into his mind was yellow robes standing within a clearing where many of the mining operations had disappeared. Something writhing behind them, dissected limbs with peeled musculature and fuel lines neatly entwined with one of the metal trees.

Soundwave quietly filed away the abomination that was Silas. Breakdown's paintjob, no matter the degradation, was a custom one by Knock Out's hands.

The spymaster kneeled down. He ignored the hissing birds as they ruffled up. What mattered was Jack's reaction, and Soundwave had poured so much work into ensuring his charge was comfortable in his presence. A careful prod to allow their EM fields to overlap. Jack didn't pull away as Soundwave anchored into his space, circling the sharp, bizarre notes as the birds became more distressed.

Jack's main attention was pinned to the distant figure calling for him (and his mother), but a small part still focused on Soundwave.

"Jack." Soundwave played out the haunting recording of June's many-layered voices of her monstrous alt-mode. "Jack. Jack. Jack. Where are you?"

The sparkling finally blinked. Connection severing. That grey-blue hue returned as he tentatively stepped into Soundwave's reach. He ignored the shrill squawking and crash of teeth and data-cables as Soundwave crushed the blackbirds and their foreign influence as Jack curled into his hold. Like a puppet with severed strings.

Luminosity hissed from the corner before barreling over, clambering across Soundwave's back-plating as she pushed her own quelling danger senses into them. She spoke in rapid squeaks and chirps, punctuated with hard flaps of her wingspan as Jack pressed himself deeper into Soundwave's hug. His mind jumbled in strange breaks as Jack attempted to reorder himself, and Soundwave gently reinforced the lowered mental defenses, sweeping away the scent of ashes and the boiling-freezing imprints.

Of course, the birds weren't real. Even with his speed and the sensation of crushing them, Soundwave felt only the walls of the ship.

[unholy-screeching9]

I m sorry to bother you but…..do you think you could do KD x reader where they both have a shitty day and just need each other? Like they cuddle? Everybody needs comfort, even the greatest showman on inkwell isles!^^

You don't even know how much I needed to write this. These past few weeks have been hell for me, so it was so nice to finally be able to write something again, especially something comforting <3

There's some suggestive content in here still, so I advise everyone to be careful!

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader "Bad Day Headcanons"

SONG RECOMMENDATION: “I’ll Never Smile Again” - Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey

King Dice x Reader “Bad Day” Headcanons (GAME)

If anyone were to ask King Dice what it’s like to be the right hand man of the Devil himself, why, he’d say it’s a dream. The best thing that’s ever happened to him. Well, maybe the second best. Marrying you will always come first. 

He really does enjoy his job as the casino’s manager, and doesn’t mind the workload. To be surrounded by fawning fans and patrons, collecting their wallets, possessions, and damn souls from right under their noses? The job is certainly never boring. The poor fools who enter make sure of that. 

King Dice always enjoys a good gamble. Whether it’s a friendly game of poker, craps, roulette, or even a bet on which racehorse would take the prize, the manager clings to the thrill of the risk like a drug. 

But the thing about addiction is, you never realize how much you’re suffering until it’s much too late to do anything about it. More often than not, you tend to bite off much more than you can chew. 

Dice occasionally finds himself in this position, having become in over his head. Sometimes, the die gets a small reality check of his own. 

This reality check comes in many different forms. Not that he ever loses a bet, of course. The King never loses, and he intends to keep it that way, no matter how dirty his hands get. There’s a reason why the house always wins, and Dice is that reason. 

Instead, his reality check comes in the form of angry patrons who have had one too much to drink, picking a fight with the manager. A demanding boss constantly looming over his shoulders, nitpicking Dice’s methods and making it incredibly difficult for him to do his damn job. 

The crushing weight of pressure to keep up a perfect approachable appearance, luring the poor fools of Inkwell inside the Devil’s mitts like a lion tricking its prey. 

Not to mention the heavy workload of papers to sign, contracts to file, tailoring appointments to keep his style consistent with whatever trends might be appearing, exhausting measures to keep his boss happy, stocking of supplies, the list could go on. 

Normally, it’s manageable enough. Some of the tasks overlap, and Dice manages to find a nice, smooth routine to keep everything in order, especially with the help of his cards. 

Typically, they will work behind the scenes while Dice manages the front, filing his papers for him, checking the drink stocks from behind the counter (the Tipsy Troop is of very little help at times), or even just forging Dice’s signature on a few of his contracts to lighten his load. 

This way, all the King really has to deal with is a few tiffs with particular drunkards, looking pretty, and keeping his staff in line. 

However… sometimes, the workload is just too much for Dice to handle, even with his cards and his staff scrambling to help the poor man keep a level head. 

Sometimes, Dice is kept after his shift usually ends, signing contracts until he can barely see straight, fingers ready to fall off. 

Sometimes, Dice gets scuffed up during a fight, causing a small crack in his head, or a few rips in his suit. 

Sometimes, the Devil is too irate to effectively calm down, and Dice is on the receiving end of his boss’s wrath whether what caused the ruckus was his fault or not. 

Sometimes… Dice just can’t take it. 

There have been numerous occasions where you’ve watched him trudge inside your chambers, completely worn out, a sour expression on his face. Dice can’t even smile at you or offer any kind of greeting as he shucks off his shoes and jacket, frustratedly kicking the objects off to the side. 

You hate seeing him like that. It’s not like him, at all. He deserves so much better than what he’s given, and you wish you could do something about his awful working conditions. 

On the nights your husband returns to you looking beaten and weary, you do the one thing that you know he’ll never oppose. You guide him into laying on top of you, his aching head resting over your chest, listening to your soft, steady heartbeat.

You simply hold him in your arms and hum a relaxing tune, your fingers gently running over the crisp edges of his head. It relaxes him almost instantly. 

Very few words are exchanged between the two of you. Dice is too tired and frustrated with everything to vent, and you don’t push him. You won’t even try to make small talk. Sometimes, there’s just no point in speech. 

No… sometimes, things are meant to be silent. And comforting Dice after a horrible day at work is usually one of those times. 

In the early hours of morning, you may occasionally wake up and find Dice staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep with too much on his mind. It is here when he finally opens up to you, spilling the details of why he entered your chambers in such a cranky mood. 

You say nothing, just letting him speak, not even flinching when he occasionally raises his voice, gesturing irritatedly with his hands. You barely even bat an eye when he lets out a frustrated huff, grumbling under his breath about how different he wishes his life turned out, falling onto his back with a defeated sigh. 

What does get your heart caught in your throat, is when his hand finds yours from under the covers. When he gives you a gentle squeeze, shifting close to you and rubbing his thumb over the smooth, shiny gold of your wedding ring. 

“You’re the only good thing that’s come out of this mess, doll.” 

Before you can even respond, Dice is asleep, his hand still squeezing your own like a lifeline.   

Well, that certainly gets your heart to flutter. 

You can absolutely relate to his struggles, as you have had many, many bad days of your own. More than you can count. Fortunately, it’s usually nothing you can’t deal with yourself.

You can handle a hard day with your own job. You can handle coming home to the casino’s chaotic ambiance after a hard day at work, with a couple drinks and a quick smoke for good measure. You can handle the long wait for your husband to return from his shifts and into your quarters. The wait is a hundred times worth it for that sweet, sensual embrace he gives you (and whatever follows afterwards). 

What gets you slightly miffed is the treatment from the folks around you who are cautious, curious, and just damn nosy over your relationship with King Dice. Repeated. Near constant. 

If you need to answer one more goddamn question about Dice’s ability as the Devil’s right hand man to love, one more inquiry over whether or not the man has you in some sort of trance, one more jealous complaint from the filthy drunkards who can’t learn to keep to themselves, your head just might fall off its shoulders.

It’s not that you’re not used to the comments and questions, it’s not that you can’t handle the occasional jab from another being. It’s definitely not that you’re protective of your husband, when he can certainly protect himself and you as soon as he feels the need to. It just… it gets so god damn annoying after a while.

And some days, you just can’t. 

The pressure of your job, worrying over your lover and his duties, dealing with the obsessive freaks? It’s certainly difficult not to crack. 

What ends up tipping you over the edge is any extra conflict life decides to throw at you on that particular day. Your boss gives you a hard time over something unwarranted. Someone bumped into you and spilled a drink all over you, so you have to work in soiled clothing.

You’ll never admit it to yourself (or anyone else), but you’re a ticking time bomb on the daily, waiting for one final push into detonation. And when that push comes, well, you’re nearly inconsolable. 

You barely make it through the rest of your day without killing someone. As soon as your shift ends, you head back home, attempting to take the side door to avoid the casino’s loud, unbearable ambiance. 

The door is locked. God fucking dammit. 

You let out a frustrated shout, banging your fist against the golden door frame before stepping away. You bite the inside of your cheek to distract yourself from the growing pain in your hand, and the fact that you now have to make your way through the suffocating atmosphere just to get to your room. 

Holding your breath, you quickly throw open the double doors, effectively silencing the whole room with the sheer amount of force you use as each door slams against the walls with a bit of recoil. 

Ignoring the stares and slight whispers of the folks who recognize who you are, you make your way through the maze of tables and machines, passing by the Blackjack table where your husband sat at the head, his deck of cards slipping from his hands and falling into a heap on the table. 

He stares at you in surprise, eyes desperate to reach yours, feeling crestfallen when you never meet his gaze. 

Watching you effectively slip past the crowd and head into the private halls, Dice makes a mental note to grab a bottle of wine for you on the way back to his chambers. He notices the clusters of people continuing to stare at the door and whispering in suspicion, and quickly becomes angry over their inquiries. 

Gathering up his deck of cards with one swoop of the hand, he brings his other fist down on the table to grab everyone’s attention, glaring menacingly at the wide eyes of his patrons. 

“Well, get back to it, will ya?! Don’t you fellas know it’s rude to stare at someone and start talkin’ smack when they’re no longer present? Forget what you saw and move on!” 

The powerful bellow of his voice combined with his threatening gaze was enough to jumpstart the casino into action once again, the games and chatter continuing like nothing ever even happened. 

With an aggravated huff, he turns back to his own table and silently deals the deck to his slightly shaky players, ignoring their hesitant movements and fearful eyes on him. As long as they aren’t focused on you anymore, he doesn’t give a damn.

When the day finally ends, Dice makes a beeline towards his room, a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. For once, he’s silent as he opens the door and steps inside, quietly stepping over to your curled up form on the bed. 

A gentle hand rubs over your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise before you slowly relax into your husband’s touch, your eyes slipping shut as you do your best to collect yourself. 

Dice notices you trying to calm down and shakes his head, setting the wine and glasses down on your nightstand and taking your hands. 

“It’s alright to be angry and upset, sweetness. Don’t try and bottle it up for my sake. If you need to yell or cry, go ahead. I’ll spare your dignity.”

That’s all you need to hear. Dice silently nods along in understanding as you tear into the horrible day you had, letting you yell out your frustrations, his hand gently running along your inner thigh in an attempt to comfort you. 

If you start to shed any tears in the middle of your rant, your lover offers you his handkerchief, continuing to listen to you as he pours you a glass of liquid happiness. 

The rest of the night is filled with tears, alcohol, and eventual silence as you both finish off the bottle, settling down for bed. You’re more than eager to sleep off the struggles, in hopes that tomorrow will bring you fortune. 

You both are there for each other when you need it, and that’s something you’ll always cherish about your husband. How someone as intimidating and evil as him could be so sweet and caring with you, you’ll never understand. But you are grateful for it. 

Dice is just as grateful for you, for dealing with his messes. For putting up with his work life, for loyally waiting for him every night, no matter how late it gets. For looking past his ‘rough and tough’ persona, and learning to love his broken, messy interior. 

Your love for each other is what gets you both through even the hardest of days. 

That includes, when both of you aren’t exactly having the best time. It’s rare for you to have an off day at the same time, but in the unfortunate case that something like this happens, well… you lean on each other more than ever. 

Both metaphorically and physically. 

As usual, you return home first, making your way through the casino’s main floor and biting your lip to keep from shouting at the drunkards who bump into you, whoop and holler in your ear, or simply stare at you in disgusting infatuation. 

Except this time, Dice is too distracted with his own hardships that he doesn’t even notice you come in. This time, it’s his eyes that fail to meet yours as you pass by, creating a slight twinge in your heartstrings. 

It seems today is just shitty all around, you suppose.

Stopping by Dice’s office, you grab a couple books from one of his many bookshelves, and head back to your quarters. Maybe some light reading will help you get your mind out of reality for a while. 

Dice’s escape from reality… isn’t quite as healthy.

With a cigar in his mouth and a glass of scotch in his hand, he finally makes his way to the room with heavy footsteps, just wanting to see you. To hold you. To lament to you. 

He knows in his heart that all you want is the same. It’s what you both need right now. You just need to be near each other. To hold each other. To kiss each other. To forget the stress of the day, and just focus on what’s most important. 

Your love for one another. 

The quiet creak of the door opening followed by the light of the hall flooding the room catches your attention, your head lifting from your book and finally meeting Dice’s eye as he steps inside, taking a drink from his whiskey glass and setting it on his bedside table. 

You’re up in a moment, the book forgotten about as you make your way over to him, helping him remove his jacket, carefully draping it over a hook and hanging it neatly. When Dice kicks off his shoes, you move them underneath his hanging tailcoat for him. 

The only sounds in the room are the rustling of fabrics being taken off, the soft pads of footsteps trailing to the bathroom, the running water from the sink’s faucet, and the aching ringing in your ears. 

Dice washes the makeup from his face and steps back into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with you, clad only in his boxers. His movements are tender and careful as he cups your face with his hands, his fingers slowly covering your ears, helping to finally rid you of the god-awful sounds plaguing your brain and causing a headache. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you rest your pounding forehead against his bare chest, taking in that addicting scent of smoke and musk. 

For the first time in a while, Dice chuckles slightly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. While you rest against him, he helps you rid yourself of your top and bottoms, leaving you in your undergarments. Shivering slightly, you shift closer to him for warmth, and Dice responds by pulling you into his lap all together. 

He peppers you with all the kisses you’d ever need, holding your face in his hands as he makes his way over your cheeks, forehead, nose, and finally, your lips. 

Oh, hell, his lips are magical. They’re so soft against your own, and the taste of alcohol and cigar smoke is always welcomed. It’s incredible. Your favorite way to take your whiskey, if you were honest with yourself. 

Your arms find your way around his neck area, and his around your waist. Both of you are itching just to get a taste of each other, your tongues meeting and mingling with one another. You both are exhausted and frustrated with your lives, but it’s the kisses you share that make the day worth going through. 

Dice scoots back into bed with you in his lap, laying down on his back, letting you sprawl on top of him. Skin against skin. Lips against lips. Hands interlocked. Neither of you want to be anywhere else. 

After a while, you both are content with just relaxing in each other’s embrace, unwilling to move. You’re warm. Comfortable. Almost happy. Almost. 

It’s not enough to completely fix the horribleness of your days, but it’s damn near close. It’s enough to convince you both that the hard days are worth it. It’s enough to bring small, peaceful smiles on your faces, providing comfort for each other when it’s so desperately needed. 

“Darlin’?”

Your husband finally speaks, bringing you out of your thoughts. You turn your head to look up at him, your eyes locking in with his bright green ones. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, hesitantly, already knowing the answer. You understand what he’s really asking– he wants to know if you’re willing to talk about it, or if you just need time in silence. 

You sigh softly to yourself, contemplating your reply before you flash him a soft smile, gently rubbing your hand over his chest. 

“I’m okay, my love. It was just a rough day today.” 

Dice understands your reply and nods, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead as he shifts on his side, letting you shift with him so you both are in a spooning position, with your partner hugging you from behind. 

“Alright.”

Silence falls over the both of you, and you are left with your thoughts, occasionally shifting closer together for comfort when you remind yourselves of what you’ve gone through that day. If Dice’s leg finds its way over yours, you don’t mind at all. If you let out the occasional sniffle as your emotions threaten to take over, Dice pretends he doesn’t hear. 

If your shoulders begin to heave slightly as you silently cry to yourself, Dice’s soothing hand makes its way towards your back, rubbing reassuringly. If Dice squeezes you closer in an effort to quell his own shakiness, you rest your back against him, nestling your head under the bottom edge of his cubed head. 

After a while, you turn around to face him, wanting to bury yourself into his arms. The smile that had temporarily graced your lips is gone, replaced with a dispirited frown. 

Dice looks down at you in concern, gently caressing your cheek, his thumb wiping away the occasional tear that fell down your cheek. 

“You’re not alright, are you, sugar?”

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you shut your eyes, a couple extra tears lining your eyes making their way down your cheeks. Dice takes care of those as well, his fingers gently massaging your face in comfort.

“No, I’m not.”

Not that you needed to tell him that. He knows. He always knows. And he understands, you know that. Because he’s not alright, either. Neither of you are. 

You’re both in pain. Exhausted. Frustrated. Angry. You aren’t even in the mood to be intimate tonight, neither of you have the energy. 

Even so, you find yourself pressing closer against him, relishing in the feeling of your skin contacting his. Falling intoxicated to the addicting scent of smoke and citrus that at this point may be Dice’s natural musk. 

Sometimes, just cuddling with each other without any clothes on is just what you need. It’s physical. Intimate enough. Comforting. Relaxing, even. It’s nice, when you want the blissful feeling that sex leaves you, but when neither of you have the strength to move. 

The slow, slightly shaky rise and fall of Dice’s chest keeps you grounded in reality, and simultaneously, your erratic heartbeat fluttering against his own keeps your lover’s own emotions in check. It’s a silent reminder that you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re not going anywhere. 

If there’s one thing that you both can count on, it’s that you’re secure. Dice would never let anything happen to you, and you would always be there to pick up the shards and piece his life back together. 

You both lock eyes with each other, silently proclaiming your love for one another, and kiss once more. Your breathing slows as you relax once more, just focusing on the comforting tastes, scents, and soft groans coming from the King. 

Dice pulls you closer to him, holding you tightly as he runs a gentle hand through your hair. The feeling is soothing to him; your hair is so soft. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Luckily for him, neither do you. 

Eventually, you both slip off to sleep, finding contentment from being wrapped in each other’s arms, exchanging gentle snores with one another as you finally get some rest. 

At 6:00 am sharp, Dice’s alarm goes off, the man groaning in irritation as his hand lazily swats at the damned thing before yanking out the plug. With a yawn, you sit up and stretch, sighing to yourself as you mentally prepare yourself for what you hope to be a better day at work. 

Before you can get far, however, Dice’s hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back into his warm, relaxing embrace. 

“Dice, we need to-”

“Five more minutes, doll. Please.” 

You sigh, shaking your head as you squirm slightly, not wanting to be late for your job.

“Dice, I can’t. We can’t. Your boss would use your head as game dice for the craps table if he knew you had–” 

“To hell with the boss.” Dice grumbles crankily, insistently pulling you closer. “My boss, and your own, can wait five minutes.” 

Well, you suppose he does have a point. Besides, he’s so comfortable, it’d be a waste to get up now, when you both still have a little time. So, you reluctantly give in, settling back down and shutting your eyes again. Surely, the day can wait a little longer. 

And when you both wake up a half hour later, scrambling to get up and make yourselves presentable, as much as you want to say otherwise you can’t help but think to yourself…

It’s worth it. 

King Dice x Reader “Bad Day” Headcanons (SHOW)

Many believe that becoming a beloved star in showbiz has to be a dream come true. 

Let’s face it, the showmen get everything they could ever ask for. Doting fans who would bend over backwards just for a damn signature, the ability to pick up anyone they want for a partner, all the money in the world, and an influencing presence on some of the highest officials in town. 

Being a star should be the best thing that could ever happen to a man. And if you were to ask King Dice how he views his job, he’d certainly tell you how splendid he has it. 

After all, running a game show where he can sing, dance, and talk all he wants, with an enormous crowd screaming his name before he even enters the stage? Why, it’s magical. 

The King loves his job, dearly. He doesn’t see himself doing anything else. He’s even found himself enjoying the thought of what happens to the foolish fellows who stumble upon his spotlight, happily playing his game, and falsely believing they’ve won. Sure, they may have won on paper, but here's the catch: King Dice never loses. 

There’s something so satisfying about the idea of those pests who are so desperate to touch him getting what’s coming to them. It’s a nice little bonus to the job, knowing that those he severely disliked would be taken care of. 

However… sometimes, King Dice gets the occasional contestant who isn’t so horrible. A contestant who’s surprisingly respectful of his boundaries, plays the game perfectly, and doesn’t give him any trouble whatsoever. 

Dice would be lying if he didn’t feel a little twinge of guilt as he watches the poor thing happily wave to the crowd before waltzing into the Mystery Prize Room, expecting a wonderful bout of riches and earthly pleasure. The showman closes the door quickly, signing off before leaving the stage in a slight rush, not wanting to think of it any longer. 

King Dice is selfish. Egotistical. Arrogant. Self-absorbed. The perfect fit for the Devil’s ‘Number One.’ He couldn’t care less about what happens to others; it’s none of his concern. 

But yet… that unfamiliar sting of regret still finds its way to Dice’s cold, dead heart. 

It’s uncomfortable. Awkward. Foreign. It shouldn’t be there. 

It sours his mood. He curses that contestant for being so unlucky. He curses his boss for putting him in this position, knowing fully well that for the sake of his job, he’s lost the trust of one of the good ones. But most of all, he curses himself, for not giving enough warning. 

Being a splendid actor, Dice is able to finish the rest of the night without a hitch, but there are other things on his mind. His head is no longer in the game. 

And the occasional guilty night is only one hardship Dice puts up with as a star working for the Devil. The list could go on for miles. 

Unpleasant conversations with his boss when one of his contestants came close to losing. The headaches from the constant flashing cameras fighting each other for a good angle of him. The carpal tunnel from signing every damn scrap of paper his fans shove in his face. The numbness in his cheeks from smiling all day long. 

That’s not even half of it. 

The truth is, being a star isn’t all it's cracked up to be. It’s hard work. Exhausting rehearsals. Pounds of makeup. Putting up a charismatic persona under layers of clothing, under hot lights. For hours. A lot of sacrifice is put into making sure everything is perfect, and some days, Dice wonders whether or not it’s worth it. 

You’ve spent many nights as Dice’s support system, guiding him out of his dressing room and into the waiting limo from the back way, to avoid the crowds. Letting him rest his legs in your lap as the limo takes you home, and massaging his aching feet as he sips tiredly at his champagne. Helping him up to your chambers, removing his jacket for him and hanging it up neatly by the door to be used for the next day. 

Unbuttoning his vest and undershirt, tossing the clothes into the hamper for his cards to wash, and gently massaging his bare chest. Allowing him to melt into your touch with a gentle moan as you slip his slacks off for him, setting them off to the side as you coax your lover to lay down. 

Wiping off his makeup for him as he complains to you about the exhaustion he feels, and the mess he had to deal with that day. Letting him rant out his frustrations at how disgusting his fans can be, and how he sometimes wishes he hired a few bodyguards to keep the pests away. Consoling him with a soft, soothing voice, validating his struggles and perhaps even appealing to his ego, letting him know just how patient and strong he is for dealing with such nastiness all day. 

Dice is grateful for your help, every time. And he’s sure to let you know that as you work your magic. 

“You’re the only one who could ever bring me true joy, doll. I adore you.” 

You smile and shake your head, kissing his cheek as you peel off your own clothes, tossing them off to the side and laying down with him, allowing him to rest his pounding head over your chest and relishing in the contact. 

“And I you, my King. Please, get some sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.” 

He obeys, but only after you start humming to him. Your voice puts him right out, and he finally finds the relaxation he’s been looking for. 

Your job complete, you allow yourself to snuggle close with him, watching over him and making sure he’s safe and secure. Eventually, your eyes slip shut, and you both rest together, allowing the past to wither away in preparation for the next day. 

You understand where your husband is coming from, sometimes. Every job has its faults and struggles, including the job of singing and putting on a show for others’ enjoyment. Including your own job, which leaves you with many, many days where you wonder if it’s even worth the effort. 

After all, Dice makes more than enough money to keep you both well off for the rest of your lives. You don’t necessarily need to keep your job, but it’s something to do during the day while your lover is at the studio. Something to keep you busy. Something you’ve earned for yourself. An accomplishment. It’s hard to give up. 

Even though sometimes, you heavily consider quitting in favor of keeping your husband company. It’d be nice to let go of all the hardships of your job for good, and bask in Dice’s presence all day instead. 

The worst of it all is when you work overtime, and you miss Dice’s show entirely. You sometimes get so occupied you can’t even tune in on the radio. It makes you unbelievably aggravated. Not only that, but you can’t even make it to go home with him at times, having to catch a cab back to your quarters. 

Even so, Dice waits for you. Greets you as soon as you trudge through the door, taking care of your bags, your coat, and your shoes. Drawing a bath for you, and helping you undress. Undressing himself, and joining you in the tub. He washes the grime off of your body for you, singing a soft, comforting melody as you rest your head on his chest, your sore voice trying to match his rhythm. 

Soon enough, you both are softly singing together in harmony as Dice massages the tension out of your shoulders and back, effectively distracting you from your heavy responsibilities. 

Once you’re clean and Dice is satisfied with his work, he pulls up the plug and drains the tub, carrying you out and drying you off. He secures his fluffiest robe around you, tying the knot with a pretty little bow before drying himself, shucking on another robe for himself, and guiding you out into the bedroom. 

A slow jazzy song is chosen from his record books, and the gramophone plays the tune gently, prompting a slow dance between you and your husband. His hands guide you into the proper positions, and soon he’s swaying along to the song with you, singing to you and sneaking in a few kisses until a smile finally graces your lips. 

You admire his ability to bring you joy, even when you don’t feel like smiling at all. It’s so unbelievably sweet of him to treat you so kindly, especially when his job is just as difficult. 

Once you’re worn out and you’ve forgotten all about the struggles you faced in the day, Dice will remove your robe and his own, carrying you off to bed to turn in for the night. 

He holds you. Tightly. His lips grace your face and neck, planting several kisses over your skin along with the occasional love bite. He understands you may be too tired to be intimate, but he figures he can at least make a mark or two to let others know you’re taken. 

His teeth and mouth feel exquisite against you, and the gentle nipping and biting make you chuckle occasionally. He tickles, especially when his mustache grazes over your skin just slightly. 

Dice longs for your laughter. It’s all he ever wants to hear from you. He hates seeing you upset, and if he can help it, he’ll chase all of the horrible feelings away, leaving you a relaxed, giggling mess in his arms.  

“Dice…” You manage to mutter between your laughter. 

“What is it, angel-eyes?” 

“Thank you for this. I appreciate it. You never fail to take the pain away when I need you the most. I love you, so so much.” 

Dice simply smiles at your words, bringing the duvet over you and covering you up so only your head is sticking out. With a kiss to your lips and a caress of your cheek, he murmurs into your mouth some of the sweetest things you’ve ever heard him say. 

“Anything to see your smile again, my dear. It breaks my heart to see you so upset. Please, lean on me when you feel like you’ve lost your smile. I’ll always be willing to help you find it.” 

He seals the promise with another sensual kiss to your lips, bringing you into his chest as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. You’ll never understand how he sweeps you off your feet with something as simple as a kiss, but you won’t complain. You love it. 

He’s yours. And you’re his. No one else will ever have the privilege of his gentleness, or your loyalty. No one else deserves those privileges. They can rot in hell, for all you care. 

You eventually find yourself nodding off in his arms. With a fond chuckle, Dice pulls his mouth away from you and lets your head drop onto his shoulder. Your ear is filled with your husband’s sensual whispers of praise, successfully lulling you to sleep. 

Wanting to keep you relaxed even in the early morning hours, Dice wakes up before his alarm and shuts it off before it even has the chance to ring. Figuring he’s allowed to be a little late just this once, he decides to stay with you an extra hour, humming quietly in your ear and massaging your shoulders. 

When you finally wake to get ready for work, you find a small box of chocolates and a cup of your favorite morning drink along with a single purple rose resting on your nightstand. 

That cheesy bastard, you love him to pieces. 

Taking a sip of your drink and indulging yourself in a few of the chocolates, you decide that you can finally move forward, and strive to have a better day. With Dice’s sweet gesture, you’re already off to a pretty good start. 

Through your hard days and his own, you and Dice are always there to pick each other back up when you need it. You’re each other’s rocks. Best friends. Spouses. You wouldn’t want to share this type of bond with anyone else. When one of you is down and broken, the other will always be there to pick up the pieces.

However, there is the rare occasion when both of you are down. When both of you are tired, struggling, and ready to quit. Those days hit especially hard. 

You can already tell it’s one of those days when you trudge home late after work, and find that Dice isn’t even home. He must’ve gotten caught with the crowd, or was dragged off to some damn party that he really didn’t want to go to. Dice hated any parties that involved other celebrities. Hoity-toity bastards. They make him sick to his stomach. 

Even though a huge part of you wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep, you know that you won’t be successful until your husband comes home. You can’t sleep as well when you’re alone, especially when you’re emotionally struggling. You need him. 

And when Dice finally steps into your quarters, barely able to stand on his own as he lets his tailcoat fall to the ground, you can tell that he needs you just as much. 

Exhausted, you make your way over to him and just wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. After a few moments of processing, you feel Dice’s arms tightly wrap around you as well, pulling you against him as his shoulders sag slightly. Jeez, he’s so weak and tired, it makes your heart break for him. 

“Shitty day?” You ask, your voice muffled from your face being snugly buried into his chest. 

You hear a dejected sigh from above you as Dice rests his head on top of yours, nodding slowly. 

“Shitty day. You?”

“Mhm.” You mutter back, hugging yourself closer to him for safety and relief. 

Dice coos sadly in response, kicking off his shoes and sliding them in a heap by the door. You yelp a little in surprise as he lifts you up, carrying you over to bed and sitting down on the edge with you. 

You watch as he runs a defeated hand over his face, shaking his head in resignation. He looks worn and ragged, like he had been run through a road roller. Dice certainly feels that way, at least. 

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression, cupping your face and examining your eyes. Your beautiful, glossy eyes that are incredibly easy to get lost in. They’re truly a wonder, in Dice’s head. You yourself, are a wonder. A joy. A prize. 

He wishes you didn’t feel so low today. 

“I’m so sorry, my sweet. But I don’t believe I have the energy to help you find your smile tonight.” 

That sentence is enough to shatter your heart, but not in the way you’d think. You’re not upset that he can’t provide the comfort he thinks you need. You’re not upset that he can’t make love to you, or run you a bath, or dance with you until your feet hurt. 

You’re upset that he’s been run down to his last thread tonight. You’re upset that he feels guilty for being unable to help you in the way he would like. You’re upset that he’s had such a horrible day, when he should’ve been enjoying himself. 

In response to his apology, you lean forward and press your lips to his, gently nipping at his bottom lip and coaxing a small groan from his throat. 

Helping him undress completely, you mumble in his mouth in a voice that’s barely audible:

“Dice, don’t think that you need to pamper me to help me relax. Don’t think that you need to sweep me off my feet and carry me everywhere to make you happy. Don’t think that you need to do all of these sweet little gestures to bring me comfort.” 

You run your hands up and down his sides, memorizing the way his smooth ivory skin feels against your fingers. 

“All I need tonight is you. And you’re here now. That’s all I could ever want. I just want you.” 

Dice is at a loss for words, opening his mouth to say something, but nothing coming out. After a minute, he sighs hopelessly, shaking his head and just holding you in his arms, searching for solace in your loving warmth. 

You both sit together, naked and weary, just embracing each other. Loving each other. Not daring to move, in fear of stumbling or breaking the quiet atmosphere. It’s… surprisingly wholesome. 

Who knew that all you both would ever need when you’re down is a hug? That was all it took to make you at least a little content with where your life is? You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, after all any type of contact with Dice is enough to bring you peace. 

You contemplate in his arms for a moment, remembering that new blues song that was playing on the radio over your workplace a few days ago. How did it go again?

Oh, yes. You remember.

“I’ll never smile again…” you start, your voice hesitant, wondering if you had heard the lyrics right. “Until I…”

Recognizing what you were trying to sing, Dice finds the corners of his lips turning up in a soft smile. He kisses your forehead, hugging you close and slowly swaying back and forth with you from where you were both seated on the bed. 

“Until I smile at you…” he finishes your open sentence, gently rubbing your back as his mind recalls the melody himself. 

“I’ll never laugh again… what good would it do?” 

You close your eyes, peacefully swaying along with him as you both slowly make your way through the song, taking in the quiet, soothing notes of the melody. 

“I’ll never love again, I’m so in love with you…” 

As you harmonize with your husband, you eventually feel a small, blissful smile finally reach your face. You both gaze into each other’s eyes, smiling tiredly with one another as you finally conclude with the last line of that song you both had just gotten familiar with.

“Until I smile at you.”  

Silence greets your ears once again, but this time, there’s a feeling of satisfaction in the air, rather than misery. And what’s even better is, you both are smiling with one another. 

You chuckle quietly, your hand tracing up and down Dice’s bicep as you gently kiss and bite at his collar bone. 

“You know, you had apologized earlier for not having any energy to help me find my smile. But I don’t think you realize that all I need to smile again is you, Dice.” 

Dice stares down at you in slight awe, slowly processing your words and taking them to heart. You feel yourself get slightly squeezed against him as he lets out a quiet, teary chuckle that brings out a couple tears of your own that you didn’t realize you were holding back. 

“I… I guess I never thought of that, babydoll.” 

He wipes away your tears as he blinks back his own, lowering his head down and pressing tiny kisses to the top of your head, little bursts of love and warmth exploding from your chest. 

You ache for him. He puts so much unnecessary pressure on himself, sometimes it’s hard to watch. You wish he’d give himself a break. He deserves one more than ever. 

“Tomorrow’s your day off, right? It’s Saturday, so I have off as well. Maybe we could dedicate it as a recovery day.” You offer quietly, rubbing in between his shoulder blades to help him calm himself. 

With a gentle sniffle and a moment of thought, Dice smiles sadly once again, nodding thoughtfully and taking your hand. 

“I’d love that more than anything, sweet one. We’ll spend the whole day together, just the two of us.” 

Just the two of you. No one else. Not a single coworker to deal with, or a boss screaming in your ear. Not one nasty admirer clinging to Dice’s leg, begging for one picture. Just you, Dice, and the peaceful quiet that home brings the both of you. Yes… that does sound perfect. 

“It’s a date then.” 

Content with your plans of a better tomorrow, Dice crawls back into bed and lays down with you, curling up under the covers with you snuggled perfectly in his arms. Once you both settle down, you sigh quietly together, your heads slowly resting against each other. 

Your hands connect with each other, the soft metal of your wedding rings clinking together as your fingers interlock. The clear diamonds sparkle and glisten as the pale moonlight peaks in from the window, hitting the stones at just the right angle. 

Dice grins warmly in amusement, his thumb rubbing over the rings in curiosity before he squeezes your hand reassuringly, bringing you closer. 

“Now that I think about it… I wouldn’t have my life any other way. I think I’ve done well for myself.” 

You laugh softly, your nose gently brushing against the pip on his face as you nod in response, agreeing with his statement.

“I wouldn’t either, sweetheart. You’re worth all the bad days in the world.” 

You relax in each other’s arms, peacefully satisfied with where you both are at. As you start to nod off, you hear Dice begin to quietly hum the tune you were both singing together earlier in an attempt to lull you off to sleep. It works, rather quickly. You’re passed out by the time he reaches the fifth or sixth line. 

For a moment, Dice watches you resting against him, enjoying the feeling of your chest slowly rising and falling against his own, your heart beats slowly coming together and finding a steady rhythm. 

He’s right; he wouldn’t have it any other way. This is perfect. All he needs. 

You’re all I need, the showman thinks to himself as his heavy eyelids finally close, and within mere seconds, he’s fast asleep, holding you securely in his embrace. 

You both sleep well into the next day, taking the time to recuperate and take care of the exhaustion you were dealing with. By the time you finally rise, you keep the promise you had made to each other, spending the day making each other laugh, sing, and dance together. 

Your love for each other really is worth all the bad days in the world.

[theoutcastrogue]

Masterposts

How to Rogue: a D&D 5e Masterpost

D&D 5e: Roguish Archetypes Masterpost Part I & Part II

Building a Rogue in 3.5 and Pathfinder: Collected Resources

Rogues in Fantasy Literature Masterpost

Dagger Fighting Masterpost

Thieves’ Cant Masterpost

Lock Picking Masterpost

Traps Masterpost

Tags and Credits

Basic Tags

How to Rogue: Exploring the Rogue class in D&D and assorted roleplaying games. Includes #fluff (roleplaying tips, character concepts, #backstories), #crunch (optimisation tips, guides, #magic items, #homebrew), and memes.

Rogues in Fiction: Exploring the Rogue archetype in literature, folklore, poetry, comics, games, etc, and #analysis thereof. Also relevant art.

Rogues in Theory: Exploring the Rogue archetype in history and society, and relevant subjects. Also #words of the trade (#etymology, synonyms, #thieves’ cant, linguistics).

Rogues in Practice: Tips on #how to stab and #how to steal (or, ahem, how to write/roleplay about stabbing and stealing), #exemplars of the trade (real life rogues and their exploits), and some less exemplary exploits. See also our esteemed colleagues in the #animal kingdom.

Art - Rogues Gallery: Rogue character portraits.

Art - Scene: Landscapes, fight scenes, #bar brawls, #heists, dungeon-crawling, etc. For urban landscapes, see #the city speaks.

Thieves’ Tools: Lockpicks! And assorted tools for breaking and entering where you’re not supposed to.

Tools of the Trade: Weapons! Mostly knives and daggers from all over the world (see the Dagger Fighting Masterpost for all the relevant tags), and some pretty swords and crossbows and the like.

Prison Ballads: The soundtrack.

…There is some overlap.

Quirky Thematic Tags

The ecstasy of gold: For loot, treasure, gold, and the deadly sin of greed.

The city speaks: For the hidden splendour of the city, from the gutters to the rooftops.

Heroes and villains: For good and evil and that grey waste in between which Rogues so often populate.

The phantom of liberty: For freedom, and storming the gates of heaven.

No tears for the creatures of the night: For the deadly sin of lust and its professionals.

The gambler’s face cracks into a grin: For gamblers and card cheats.

Dishonour on your cow: For honour among thieves, criminal codes, omertà, and blood feuds. File under the deadly sin of pride.

Fearlessly fleeing: For craven rogues and clever rogues. Wait, there’s a difference?

The ramblin’ rover: For vagrants and vagabonds and for the long-winding road.

The right to be lazy: For the deadly sin of sloth.

The hired man: For (mostly against tbh) the Rogue’s nemesis, the cop. See also #prison.

Swinging from the gallows tree: For the ignominious end that awaits us.

The quirk is strong with this one: See also #the potatoes of defiance, #big thief little thief, #the thrill of the heist, #the rich remember, #daring escape, #be the chaos you want to see in this world, #carnival, #stabbity, #only knives left, #dubito ergo sum, #fuck the king, #profanity makes everything better, #information wants to be free, #a begging I will go, #forbidden fruit, #the groaning rogue, #I fought the law, #the deserter. (#Tag namer explains some of the quirkiness.)

More Tags

Tabletop tales: It happened in somebody’s game.

D&D history: The conceptual and mechanical evolution of the Thief Rogue class in D&D, and other interesting stuff from the history of #roleplaying.

TRS: The Rogue speaks. Not to be confused with TSR.

Self explanatory: #D&D, #3.0, #3.5, #5e, #Pathfinder, #Pathfinder 2e, #AD&D, #roguish archetype, #feat, #skill trick, various #skills (#deception, #sleight of hand, #stealth, etc), #rogue fashion, #correspondence, #long post.

For anything else, try the search function and hope, but don’t get your hopes up because tumblr’s search function is appalling. Googling with the parametre site:theoutcastrogue.tumblr.com might actually be better.

Credits

All original work published here (i.e. the words and the occasional photograph of @theoutcastrogue​ aka @we-are-rogue, 2016–2023) is licenced under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International Licence.

Avatar image: “Tymora’s Luck” (detail) by Ryan Pancost, from Dragon Magazine #388 | Wizards of the Coast 2010

Header image: “The Thief” (detail) by capprotti, for the game Exile Gods | Distant Orbit 2009

The WeAreAdventurers collective was started in 2016 by @wearepaladin. 

See also the archival blog @wewererogue​.

[sangfielle]

if its okay to ask, ive been listeing through all of f@tt for the last like, have a year or so, and im finally getting close to the end (close as in im about to start sangfielle, but grand scheme i still think thats close, lol). do you have any podcasts / webcomics / books / etc that you feel have a similar tone, or that you really like as well?

thank you!

okay! hi. sorry this took forever to get around to because i honestly don't know a lot of things that i would consider to be in the same vein as f@tt? the two immediate ones that sprung to my mind were heaven will be mine and gundam, but i get the strangest feeling you already know about both of those. i do have some suggestions that, while not really like friends at the table, i feel you're liable to get something out of if you like it.

podcastwise, something rotten and the ranged touch podcasts (i've only listened to homestuck made this world, but am going to get around to the others, any my friends like them, lol) are nonfiction analysis podcasts. i'm pretty sure austin was actually on the most recent ranged touch patreon episode? but i don't have the money for many subscription things right now, so i can't confirm if that was actually the latest one or anything. + batman unburied is honestly a pretty good podcast that i would recommend if you can buy into the bullshit that is required to get into any major superhero setting. i've also enjoyed what i listened to of campaign: star wars, though that has been very limited. my interest in star wars varies pretty heavily, so i can only listen to it when i'm in a specific mood, and when i am in that mood i'm usually working on catching up on a more civilized age instead.

webcomics: brainchild, fairmeadow, the last halloween, prague race, soil that binds us, and white noise i've all enjoyed what's been put out so far & think other fatt fans may like. i'm a particularly devoted longtime fan of prague race, and i've been really liking white noise.

books: discworld is a very mixed bag for me, but i can't pretend i don't get anything out of it, and i feel if you haven't already read it that there's going to be a lot of appeal overlap for parts of fatt. this is how you lose the time war, obviously. i've moved recently, and have basically a full storage unit's worth of books, but not easy access to them, so i can't really go through and give you recommendations at the moment, because most of the books/series i'm taken with are bad but interesting, and most things that i file under that category i don't know if everyone else will similarly appreciate. i can give you a reading list when i actually get settled in at some point, lol.

shows & movies: nope 2022, the boys (if you can get past the grossout shock humor part of it), the expanse (i am intending to read the books but can't speak to the quality of those yet), the get down, event horizon, palm springs, his house, star trek (especially tng/ds9), princess tutu. this is just off the top of my head, i'm sure i could actually find more shit that i feel like i could put here if i combed through everything i've ever watched.

video games: if you like janine's characters in specific, dragon age will probably be up your alley. other than that, weird west, fallen london and the games surrounding it, disco elysium (obviously), the dishonored series, elder scrolls, zero escape, slay the spire, a mortician's tale, king of the castle (obviously, again), fallen hero, manor hill, vespertines, & dr langeskov (^^) i've all found charming and to hold some level of interest.

i have a lot more things i could recommend if you don't specifically want something good, but i figure i should leave it at things i can actually recommend without too many disclaimers (besides discworld) for this.

[goodbyenorthernlights]

I'm curious to know if you've pulled some of Rezo's vibes into your characterisation of Saejid or did you perhaps already intend to draw some inspo from him when coming up with Saejid's premise. :3

Not at all, honestly! I didn't even know Rezo existed when I was developing Saejid- I was vaguely aware of Slayers as an anime I had tried watching as a teenager and only seen the first episode of before going "Ehhh this isn't my thing."

Saejid was originally based on a character I came up with as a teenager for a Gaia Online RP where the antagonists were themed around the idea of childhood fears- the monster under the closet, that sort of thing- and proto!Saejid (his name has been lost to the sands of time/my memory, alas) was meant to be the anthropomorphic personification of Iatrophobia (the fear of doctors) because finding doctors scary struck me as something kids do a lot. So I had this concept of a sadistic doctor archetype already just lying around.

(Proto!Saejid also was based off of a random drawing I'd found online, probably via searching something like "anime doctor" on photobucket and using what I found as a FC, because that was what you did on Gaia Online. Art theft was unfortunately widespread and not recognized as theft. This is actually one of the reasons I eventually stopped using the website for RP entirely tbh, once I learned more about art theft and why it's a problem I wasn't able to strike a comfortable balance between "most RPs expect you to provide a picture of your character" and. Not committing art theft about it. Anyway, tangent!

And proto!Saejid's FC wasn't of Rezo btw, it was... Some white haired anime dude in a labcoat with a :| expression that I think came from a yaoi manga originally.)

Anywho I had this concept lying around and I remember we wound up discussing the concept of Dragonsbayne as a farming sim with the characters as marriage candidates, because I was playing a lot of Rune Factory 4, and for a protag I made up this gender-neutral design I called Luka...

don't ask me how the pattern on their scarf works And Luka I had the concept that it would turn out they would be an amnesiac homunculus, and so I figured I'd make up a character who would have been Luka's creator.

I remembered this vague concept I had still floating in my brain and, never one to turn down the opportunity to draw a bishonen, wound up designing Saejid.

I didn't get into Slayers, and Rezo, until late 2021- digging thru my files, it looks like Saejid's original concept art was drawn sometime in February 2020.

isn't the ms paint glorious

Anyway, Rezo and Saejid do have some noticeable similarities- both of them are "mad scientist" archetypes with kind of a "usually cool-headed intellectual" thing going on, and both of them are very manipulative characters. And also they're both anime pretty boys. So it's likely that there's going to be some more overlap in characterization when I write either of them.

That said they are actually still very different characters in my head! I think the key is in their storylines/motivations. Saejid is a character who starts out in a very good and secure place for him, personally, where he has power over other people and everything he needs and wants. When his world starts changing and the fae community starts opening up to other people, he panics and schemes and conspires to keep his position from potentially changing- even though his behaviour ultimately puts him in a worse place than he'd have probably wound up if he'd just gone with the flow.

Basically he's like a billionaire who's mad that he might have to start paying more taxes and giving his employees health insurance.

Rezo on the other hand... My personal take is admittedly controversial in the fandom but I see him as someone who has spent his entire life struggling in the literal and metaphorical dark under the manipulations of an outside force, fruitlessly pursuing something he thinks will release him from his own misery. He's someone stuck in a genuinely bad situation and trying ruthlessly to get out of it.

If I had to compare Saejid to a Slayers character... Rezo would be in there in terms of demeanor and methodology, but so would Halcyform and a touch of Hellmaster. But in terms of motivation Saejid's, I think, actually closer to being the Supreme Elder from Slayers TRY. He wants to keep a "safe" status quo and doesn't care who suffers because of it, as long as they aren't someone he sees as "his people." (And by the end maybe not even that.)

[heres-to-all-that-is-mine]

Unfinished stuff part two! Written Before The Third Game Came Out And Abandoned By Now Edition. This one’s called “Work benefits”. I believe it was about Zor offering Phoenix a job, citing the terrible Agency work conditions and the benefits of a job with Zoraxis, and Phoenix actually considering it but ultimately deciding against it?

They skid around the corner in a panic, bullets whizzing past and pinging against the floor, but they don't falter for a moment. If they did, they'd be dead.

Their Handler's voice, usually ever present, ever droning, has been reduced to a staticky crackling in their ear through the work of some kind of jammer, maybe, they're not entirely sure, but it means they're on their own and that's... not new, not foreign, but disconcerting. They'd gotten used to having him there, talking, though they didn't always listen.

It leaves them feeling more jittery than usual, though adrenaline has drowned out most of their worries.

The situation- they're running through an unfamiliar building, pursued by Zoraxis agents who would like nothing more than to put them six feet under (or quite possibly more, if they can get away with it) after stealing some very valuable files. Blueprints, maybe, the details escape them but they're important, and they have them- …the situation is not ideal. What's also not ideal is the stinging, burning sensation building in their shoulder where a bullet must have grazed them. They shift the files to the other arm, hoping they didn't manage to get blood on it, and glance around quickly.

The goons are only seconds away, and they can't keep running for much longer, so they need- aha! A door, left slightly ajar, the room behind it pitch black. They really hope it's empty because the agents are catching up and they've just lost whatever advantage they had by hesitating- and what the hell, they might die either way, so they throw themself into the darkened room and close the door carefully in one jerky movement, hearing the footsteps race past.

For what seems like an eternity, they sit hunched against the door, holding their breath and hearing their blood rushing in their ears.

...Nothing. They're safe- for now.

Slowly they begin to take stock of their surroundings, eyes adjusting to the dark. They quickly locate a string connected to a light, and give it a tug with their telekinesis, unwilling to stand up just yet.

It's a small room, the walls lined with shelves of old equipment and a couple of cleaning supplies here and there- most things are covered in a fine coat of dust. Ironic, perhaps, for a broom closet to be so dusty. It looks like some strange hybrid of an equipment storage room and a broom closet.

It doesn't look to be regularly used. Good.

Having given everything a quick once over, they turn their attention back to themself, checking on the wound that had begun to ache properly by now. It doesn't look too deep, but it's still sluggishly bleeding and patches of black are spreading through the dark fabric of the uniform they'd snagged, rendering the disguise mostly useless. With a strained grimace they look around the room again, and find a spare uniform hung on a hook at the far end of the room, setting about tearing strips of fabric from their current uniform to use as impromptu bandages.

Focused on the task as they were, they didn't notice one of the dusty monitors star flickering with static until a strange, warbling voice crackled to life.

"Hello, Agent," the voice says conversationally, and they jerk back in surprise, the back of their head hitting the door hard enough for them to wince in pain.

This... is not their Handler, nor is it anybody who's voice they recognise- it sounds distorted, masculine and feminine voices seeming to overlap, shifting from a low to a high pitch rapidly, and yet it has a tone reminiscent of someone calm and collected, someone in control.

...They have a sinking feeling that they do, in fact, know who this is.

"I've been watching you for some time," the voice continues, and they wonder why this person would possibly do such a thing if they are indeed who the agent thinks they are. "Your track record is most intriguing. I understand you're the agent behind foiling a number of our "schemes"."

To sum their current situation up in one word, it was 'bad'.

[Yes, well...]

They sign, grimacing at the ache in their shoulder.

"It's your job, yes," the voice finishes their sentence for them, tone something reminiscent of friendly, with none of the warmth associated with such a tone. "I know. I know quite a lot about you, Agent."

The room suddenly seems more claustrophobic than before, they think, as they finish tying the makeshift bandage.

"...and I expect you know some about me, as well."

[You're not just a Z agent.]

A burst of static- laughter, maybe, or a scoff- makes them twitch, increasingly unnerved. This conversation is telling them nothing, not why they're having a conversation like this, nor how this person knew they'd be here.

"I am not, no. You may know me as Dr. Zor."

Shit.

Well, they're officially screwed! Or, well, they're not really sure. Why on Earth would the head of the Zoraxis organisation want to speak with them- or, more pressingly, why are they still alive and unrestrained for this conversation?

[melcirsium]

sometimes magical thinking is giving a thumbs up to the gods of coincidence when things happen to line up well, and sometimes magical thinking is making sure to shower and change clothes as quickly as possible in case you're teleported somewhere at eight-thirty on a tuesday

[unexpectedgeese]

Smirke’s taxonomy is good, actually. Fight me.

No ok but like I WILL go to bat for the Smirke Taxonomy of fears you guys have no fuckin clue what’s up. Neither did Smirke but like

OK SO. The Smirke taxonomy makes no fucking sense if you’re using it as a straight-on categorization of fears. Control and spiders? How are those the same thing? Why is FIRE its own damn category? Yadda yadda BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT.

Because yeah, Smirke was trying to categorize fears– But what he actually did is categorize HOW THEY MANIFEST.

Like;;; human fear is infinitely varied and complex. You’re never going to be able to slot it into simple categories. We’re afraid of EVERYTHING– the unknown and the known and the concrete and the abstract and the truth and the untruth and spiders and heights and being forgotten and it’s like!! A nuanced outlook on how the fears manifest in avatars and the like is crucial for any actual study but it’s a NIGHTMARE for filing systems. Could you imagine running an archive and having to pinpoint the exact fear for every single statement? “Ooh, is this story where a man is killed by spiders driven by a fear of spiders themselves, oor more what spiders imply?” You’d never get anything done!

But What you CAN do. Is categorize the fears not by what they’re fears of, but by how they manifest in the real world. Because! The manifestations of the fears are driven by the way we as a society talk about our fear! And so grouping fear manifestations and avatars into categories based on how we talk about them is a GENIUS way to circumvent the complicated-ass fear identity question in favor of a more pragmatic, top-down approach to the varied dreads that stalk our everyday lives.

Like, when you’re addicted to something? You’re ‘caught in your own web’. When you don’t know what’s going on? You’re ‘being kept in the dark’. Having a mental health crisis, well, I think you might be ‘spiraling’, my friend! 

Are the everyday struggles of life getting you down? You’re ‘under a lot of pressure,’ seems like. ET CETERA ET CETERA! I could go on! But the POINT is– the language we use to talk about and understand out fear can be used to group said fear into categories based on how it manifests, and SMIRKE’S TAXONOMY IS PERFECT FOR THAT.

And not because that’s how it was intended– No, Robert Smirke is STILL a fucking hack, I’m not disputing that. His whole ‘balance’ schtick was stupid as hell. BUT ALSO! 

Because his taxonomy is so popular among avatars and such, the very EXISTENCE of ‘the entities’ as a concept has skewed the cultural zeitgeist in such a way that Smirke’s taxonomy is more correct now than it was when it was created.

Which!! Is so cool!! Like. Yes, the Smirke taxonomy is objectively a really shit way to classify fear. Most individual ‘entities’ have conflicting fears associated (being watched and watching yourself? C’mon, Eye. You can do better), and there’s some odd overlap too (there are SO MANY fears that incorporate ‘the unknown’ in some way). But when attempting to classify the  physical traits and such of a manifestation/avatar? Smirke’s got you covered, baby!

To summarize: While Smirke’s taxonomy sucks ASS when you try to apply it to the psychological specifics of any given avatar, or fear, or what have you, it’s great for classifying the physical. The cut-and-dry 14 entities give a really good intro to the world of fears, work great for any kind of filing system, and give a good big-picture view of avatar politics. 

[averagegtenjoyer]

Waddup demons, it's me, goopkira anon

Oughhhhhhh very very VERY specific to this au fearplay.

So. It's a game right. Self aware au. Game world, game rules, files, code, etc etc. GOOD. Also I'm making it canon for this au that Akira REALLY likes the game's music because of course he does. That is important for scenario 1 and 2. Sound-based horror is UNDERRATED.

3 scenarios.

Scenario 1: Takes place in the corrupted Palace. It is very corrupted for two reasons, one being that it isn't supposed to exist in the game by any means, and two that it's actually a fusion of two separate Palaces (being Akira's and the player's, actually it's a whole twist of the plot that it's Akira's Palace at all because there is so much specific overlap between Akira and the player that I will be more than happy to go into). Anyways, in the middle of the thing, right. Spiralling hallway, looks like a set designer for the game took acid, the squad is making their way down into the depths.

The lights dim ever so slightly.

A voice, echoing and large.

" And as you look to the horizon, not a cloud..."

All the Phantom Thieves freeze. The voice is... singing?

"But then stormy weather's caught you cold."

The voice drowns out the heartbeats in their ears as the group clusters together for safety.

"Seems like it crept up out of nowhere all around you..."

The lights have fizzled out just in time to hide the tendrils of pitch black goo creeping along the walls, covering everything but the darkened lights.

"It's not quite what you foretold..."

The squelching of slime is buried under the playful, chipper tone. A pair of blood red hands, each larger than any of the Thieves were tall, encircle the unaware adventurers in the darkness.

" You'll never see it-

"

The lights come on.

Scenario 2: Shadow Akira is loose in Shibuya after the fusion. The Phantom Thieves had run, but they were now painfully aware that reality was no longer their savior. As the crashing footsteps approach, they could hear... music? Soaring, grand guitar chords that make Player's eyes widen with recognition. But... it was discordant, distorted and combined with a rumbling bass that made the small bits of debris leap into the air with every beat.

" I-Is that... Yaldaboath's battle theme?!?"

Amidst the cacophony, a towering figure rises among the skyscrapers, thunderous, mocking laughter makes the asphalt beneath the Phantom Thieves quake with terror equal to their own.

Scenario 3: Less of a specific moment and more of a concept. Sure, big Akira, but also big everyone else. From Player's perspective. You see, getting snatched into the game made them itty bitty, and now EVERYTHING IS WORSE AND INFINITELY SCARIER. But also the entire squad's reactions to smol Player, including Akira's. Idk I think this has potential to maybe calm them down more as compared to them being normal sized. Like interacting with Futaba, for example, would be less nerve wracking when you're posed alongside her Featherman dolls than if you're having to perceive her as entirely a real, regular person after thinking she in no way shape or form existed in any kind of reality. Also Akechi would be generally gentler with them much faster than in his actual arc because Player was VERY much attached to him during their playthrough and he had NO clue how to process or handle that, but he cannot bring himself to be beefing with someone who's 6 inches tall and looks at him like 🥺. Yusuke's interactions would be interesting too, since he's in the same situation, just having an inverse reaction. He is very nice to them and gentle and lovey and the sole reason why they haven't just completely mentally shattered. I have found the PEAK of comedy in Maruki's reaction to this, that being "how the kentucky fried fuck am I supposed to give this child therapy when they are SO HECKIN SMOL"

AND HOLY DICKWAGON THE PALACE SEGMENTS WOULD BE SO SCARY. For context, in the Palace are shadows of the Phantom Thieves, who look normal at first but then turn into, for lack of a better term, waifu themed dnd mimics. YOU ARE SO SMALL. THE SHADOW THIEVES ARE HUGE AND SCARY AND OUT TO KILL YOU SPECIFICALLY AND THAT IS 5 MILLION TIMES EASIER NOW.

ps should I come off anon? i could def use a mutual

I cant even add anything that would be helpful to this because ill make a completely fool of myself and fall flat on my face please come off anon so i can beat you up (with love)

[justgallifreyanthings]

Hi I love your designs. Do you have any tips for beginners, workflows or tutorials you'd recommend?

I have the alphabet down and have been trying to move to PS but it is a nightmare. I've been trying with doing each word on a layer but I end up with a million vectors.

Thank you!

Hi, thank you so much!

Nailing down a digital workflow definitely takes a bit of trial and error. It took me a good 2 years to figure out how to work in Photoshop, especially since I was learning from scratch, and another year or so to figure out a workflow when I moved to a tablet.

In terms of tools, I use Photoshop Elements 2011, Illustrator (though I've used Inkscape before), and Autodesk Sketchbook on my tablet. Other Gallifreyan writers use GIMP and AutoCAD (yeah idk how that last one works either). In general, I think the same tips work across platforms, both raster and vector, though of course YMMV.

Ultimately, the massive number of layers is somewhat unavoidable. This piece had 31 layers in Photoshop; this simple one had 10 layers in Illustrator. But here are some tips for getting from hundreds down to less than 50! I'm gonna move the rest of this under a readmore to avoid clogging dashboards.

First, you probably don't need to put each word on its own layer. I tend to group structural elements together. So for each sentence, I'll do the sentence circles on one layer, all word circles on 1-2 layers, and then consonants, vowels, line decorators, dot decorators, and punctuation all on individual layers. With both raster and vector software, you can move individual elements within a layer - with vectors you just pick up the whole path, and with raster you can use the lasso or magic wand to select all pixels within a certain area on a layer. With raster, the main thing you need to watch out for is overlapped shapes - so when I work in Photoshop, I'll have 2-3 layers for word circles and for consonants, so I can switch between the various layers when things overlap.

Second, clipping masks and groups are your friend!! Clipping masks help you get clean, sharp edges without having to zoom in to erase individual pixels. Grouping helps consolidate the various elements of a word or sentence; especially when you're happy with how something looks, group all the individual parts of it so you're only working with one object instead of 15.

Third, I find it really helpful to sketch out my designs physically before making them digitally - sometimes I do this in my sketchbook, sometimes I draw things on my tablet. But sketching the design out helps me get a sense of how all the pieces are fitting together, which in turn gives me a sense of how to tackle them. For example, when working in Photoshop, I draw word circles for words without divots before drawing word circles that have divots, so that I can use the nondivot-circles to inform divot positioning. But in order to do this, I have to know upfront which words are going to have divots and how everything is fitting together.

Finally, you may want to take a look at Sirkles' youtube explanations. She makes these to explain how to read her translations, but on occasion, she'll go into her GIMP file to fix something, and that might help explain the behind-the-scenes process. Annnd you can check out these 2 Twitch VODs of mine from back when I had pipe dreams of a Patreon where I offered Twitch VODs as a patron benefit: VOD 1 || VOD 2. Both are for pieces I did in Photoshop. I apologize in advance for the garbage sound quality.

I hope you're able to find something useful in this wall of text. Unfortunately I think it really does just take practice, and a lot of trial and error, so I wish you the best of lucky and a speedy learning curve!

[arcanistvysoren]

I truly will never understand people being angry over micro-labels.

The amount of times I've been told that "X is not a real identity"... Like, my friend, my pal, my buddy: what makes something real? Everything about our identities is a social construct. We are a community, a queer community, and we had a limited vocabulary, and now we're expanding it because we're finding that there are overlapping ideas and experiences that we all vibe with, and we need new words to describe them. It's a mouthful to say "I feel like my gender is unimportant, but whatever it is, I know that whoever I'm attracted to, whatever their gender may be, my attraction to them is gay". It's not a mouthful to say "omnigay". And you may think our words are funny, but they are useful, and helpful, and very 🤝/handshake emoji. Because we see other people experiencing the same things that we do and we file it away under "same", and when we meet like-minded people, it's an instant green light of: this person researched the same things as me / reached the same conclusions as me / feels the same as me.

Truly, I was sitting on this rant for a while, ever since someone told me, to my face, that "demisexuality" isn't real, and that I just don't understand how human sexuality works, and I was just sitting there like: 😶 Buddy, I think it is you who doesn't understand how inventing new words works. This is a major shared experience for people and we gave it a name.

But also, considering the blowout with everyone clutching pearls around crimew's identity. Y'all are tragic, and microlabels will outlast you.

Op is right: the table is long, and I want to break bread with everyone who has examined themselves into an unconventional identity.

"Well are you a [controversial identity] supporter???"

My friend I do not know what to tell you here. My rule is and remains "I don't care what you call yourself because your actions and who you are as a person is more valuable to me" and "as long as everyone in the situation is an adult and is giving enthusiastic consent I genuinely do not give a fuck what you do" and "words are stupid and people are complicated so it doesn't matter if The Words Are Wrong as long as it makes you happy"

I'm a longer tables not higher walls kind of guy. Have a seat. Break bread with me. Tell me a story over dinner. I think that'll be better for the both of us.

[philcoulson-redtapeninja]

Wip Wednesday| Instructions on Mindful Focus X X

Each patient had to be given a code name to be used in place of name, pronoun, or any other identifying article in the written documents. 'Safety through obfuscation', the unofficial motto of the IMF, or at least it was for the Psych Division. All documentation produced before, during, or after a session had to be written by hand, never typed on computer or typewriter, and stored in self-immolating file cabinets. Press the right spot or don't enter the right code, and all of the files would be burnt to ash in seconds. It wasn't anything new to her. In Martha's last job, anonymity was a selling point to most clients. Martha preferred to wait 'til the end of the first session to give a pseudonym. It gave her a chance to get to know them and let the nickname cement itself in her mind. Right now her notes were filled with little blank spaces just waiting to be filled with the distillation of a person. Flicking her eyes over the man on her couch, she couldn't help but correlate the unnatural stillness of Agent Hunt and a sheep dog belly down in the grass after an order to Wait. Fidgeting with her pre-session notes, she tried to find a good way to start. Should she start with just the facts? No, that wouldn't work. It would sound to much like a debriefing and Hunt wouldn't open up to an agent after all he's gone through. Maybe she could use a sweet heart approach? Acting like a doe-eyed civilian would be about the opposite of an agent as she could get.

I have also been overthinking just how the IMF would be set up

Under the vague hand wavy control of the CIA

Branch > Division > Department > Sub-Departments

Three branches of the IMF: Operations, Support, and Field. There is a great deal of overlap and sharing of personnel/resources

Operations - Agents in the foreground of Missions and intel gathering

Divisions under the Operations Branch

Control: The guy in the chair, plans and supervises the mission - James Phelps, Daniel Briggs, and Ethan Hunt

Engineering: mechanical operator, in-field technical advisory, and general Macgyver - Barnard "Barney" Collier,  Benji Dunn, and Luther Stickel

Transportation: Pilots, getaway drivers, and other specialized transportation experts. Declan Gormley

Face: Agents that wear the Mask, and have direct and consistent contact with the Mark. Honeypot is a sub-department of Face - Rollin Hand, Cinnamon Carter, and The Great Paris

Security: The hitter and strong man - also works in the IMF buildings as base security - William "Willy" Armitage, and Zhen Lei

Infiltration: Specialists in getting in-and-out of secure buildings without being found, often an acrobat. Ethan Hunt

Specialist:Pinch-hitters from other branches and other agencies - Nyah Nordoff-Hall

Intelligence: Long field operatives, moles, help open doors for IMF teams. Not part of the Field branch for administrative reasons; pay and benefits the same as Operation branch agents.

Support - Analysts, Medical staff, Fabricators, and Legal teams that support and maintain the IMF from within Headquarters(Langley?DC?) and Satellites

Divisions under the Support Branch

Medical Departments: In-Patient, Out-Patient

In-Patient Sub-Departments: Acute care(ER/Surgery), Chronic care(...everything else)

Out-Patient Sub-Departments: Pharmacy, Wound care, Physical Therapy, Specialty, and Primary Care

Analysis Departments: Intelligence analysis by Region, Psychology, [physical evidence?], and Information Distribution(Control Handlers)

Personnel Departments: Recruitment, Records, Covers, Training, and [Family and Friend management]

Legal Departments: Domestic Law, Foreign law, and Admiralty

Sub-Departments for Criminal, Civil, and for the various Continents

Cyber Departments: Cyber-Security, Code making/breaking, Electronic Infiltration, and IT. Previously part of both Analysis and Fabrication before becoming its own department.

Fabrication Departments: Wardrobe, Masks, Hazardous Materials, Large Scale Construction, Small Scale Construction, Rigging, Smithing, and R&D

Logistics Departments: Field Logistics, Operations Logistics, and Support Logistics. Works closely with the Personnel Divisions, with Sub-Departments for each Division that handle Requisitions, Supply Chains, and Disposal.

Field - a mixture of Reservists, part-timers, and Outsiders that were read into IMF for one reason or another, all supporting teams in the field and couriering messages

Divisions under the Field Branch

On-Site Fabrication:

Dead Drop:

Courier:

Local Intelligence:

Location Maintenance: