#i already owned the record but. you know how it is

[writersblog20]

Sick baby🍒

Neighbor!Joel Miller x reader 

Credits to the very talented : @a7estrellas 🫶🫶

Summary: When sickness catches you and you seemed to be doomed to take care of yourself, your hot older neighbor is going to make sure you get better.  (Lots of fluff and comfort)

Warnings: age-gap (Age of reader isn't classified but is in mid 20s). Mention of neglect and ptsd but NO details of traumatic events in itself. Sickness and hints to anxiety. Pet names like: baby girl, sweetheart, princess etc.  I'm sorry if I missed anything else.  

Words: 3.1K (I could've made this shorter, but I didn't) 

A/N: Hi.... So, I'm back? Sort of? Anyhow, here's a soft fic after 2 (or 3?) years of hiatus. I'm not dead just anxious and traumatized but I'm trying to get back to writing again! Please take it easy because I've been out of training. Anyway, I want to try to write about Hugh Jackman as well! So get ready for that, but also give me a second hahaha. I hope Youa'll are doing good!  

Sick baby 

It all started with a throbbing headache and the feeling of thorns in your throat. You groaned which made get an entire cough attack. You wiped the tears away from your eyes from coughing so violently. You felt exhausted and sick. It was in fact, that time of the year again for getting a cold.  

You made your way downstairs to make some tea. You looked into the cabinets for some honey but groaned when you remembered you had to do some grocery shopping today. The thought of having to go out of your house made you want to cry. You felt emotional, horrible, weak and sick. You just wanted to curl up in bed and someone to take care of you but that wasn't happening anytime soon.  

You heard the car door closing outside and it caught your attention, as it always would when he would arrive home. Your insanely hot, sweet and older neighbour, Joel Miller. You had a huge crush on him since you moved into your new home, and he helped you with your moving boxes as he saw you struggling. A couple of days later, when you got all settled, you made him some muffins as a toking of gratitude, and he invited you in to have a cup of tea.  

It didn't take much to get a crush on your older neighbour. He was incredibly handsome, sweet and you had a thing for older men, and he just made you turn into a complete puddle every time. He seemed to notice that you got flustered and shy around him and he absolutely loved it, which he made it now a mission to get you shy and flustered around him. It made his chest feel all warm and fluffy, something he hadn't felt in years that it turned him in a grumpy old man. Except, you made him feel happy and fuzzy inside. He would never admit it, but it was true. He was so very intrigued by you. For him, you were a sunshine even though you were alone a lot of the time, he saw you as someone very special for your age. He caught you more times, watching old movies. Like 1925 and 1950 old movies. Or when you caught you walking to your front door with new records in your arms. The times he caught you outside on your own porch, completely indulged in your book that you were reading at the time, a cup of tea next to you, a blanket over your lap as the rain hit the roof.  

He caught him staring at you so many times. Joel was a difficult and sometimes troubled man but when he looked at you, he found peace and serenity. The kind that he had been looking for his whole life, and now that it was in front of him, it scared him deeply. But no matter how hard he fought that feeling and wanted to keep a distance between the two of you, he found himself even closer to you. There was one thing he noticed, you were alone for most of the time, and it made him curious.  

One night, when the two of you had a beer on his front porch, he asked you why and how you were able to move into a home already at your age, hoping by asking you that question, he would get to know why you were alone a lot. You told him that you would tell the part of why another time and went straight to the how. He figured it wasn't a nice story and it wasn't. Let's just say for now that you didn't have a relationship with your parents and that it truly was for your own good. You had to leave your parents' home for your own safety.  

One evening, you stood in front of his door, soaking wet by the rain, and tears streaming down your cheeks. It left a hole in his chest seeing you like that and he felt instant rage, knowing that someone was the cause of how you felt. The moment he saw you, the features on his face showed deep concern as he pulled you into a tight hug as an impulse. When he opened the door and saw you like that, he had an overwhelming feeling to protect you. He pulled you inside carefully as he shushed you softly. His hand on the back of your head as he carefully tucked your head against his chest. He placed multiple kissed on the top of your head.  

You told him about the altercation that you had with your father. That was the moment you told him everything. You babbled so much that you struggled to get through your own words. “C'me here sweetheart.” he told you, held your hand and let you to the kitchen. He lifted you up on the counter and set you down while he quickly made some tea. Your make-up was all over your face and he got a soft cloth, made it wet and gently wiped it over your face to get the remains of your make-up and tears away. The soft look that was on his face, made your lip wobble again and gave you new tears on your cheeks. Joel looked into your eyes and his eyes softened even more as his heart broke for you. “Oh, baby girl...” The softness by a man and the feeling of safety and how secure and taken care of you felt, was new to you and it brought you to a completely new breakdown. Joel pulled you in a hug again and tucked your face into his neck. Even though you were on the counter, Joel was still taller than you. It was at that point that you've started to became emotionally attached to Joel.  

~~~~~~~`~~ 

You looked out of the window and thought about asking Joel if he could go to the store for you, but you felt so fatigue that you couldn't master up the courage to ask him, knowing that you would be too shy right now. Yes, you've shared that intimate moment together but since that night, your crush turned into love. You were head over heels for your neighbour.  

You sighed, which got you into another coughing attack. “Fine” You grumbled and heard that you had almost no voice left. You nose started to run and you knew that it would be better if you went to the store now before it got worse. 

You quickly went upstairs and got your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, throwing them on, brushed your teeth, cleaned your face and quickly did your hair. You noticed that you looked horrible, and a wave of warmth came over you. “A fever? Already?” you sighed and quickly got your stuff to go to the store.  

You got all the groceries you needed and headed home. You got so many extra things to make this cold disappear as soon as possible.  Once you got home you tried to get your bags out of the car, but you felt a hot wave go over you again, started to get dizzy and felt so weak that you couldn't even lift the stupid bags out of the car. You were already out of breath, and you started to mutter curse words in yourself.  Your vision started to get warry and black and you had to hold yourself to the car 

“Woa, take it easy baby girl.” Joel ran to your aid and held you, looking worryingly at your face. You held onto Joel now and slowly started to get your vision back but with a major headache... A migraine. “God fucking dammit...” you muttered, and Joel looked a bit in surprise at you. He never heard you curse before. “You okay there baby doll?” You held your palm to your head and groaned. “I'm sick” you spoke up louder and he was finally able to hear your voice correctly. Without saying anything he held his hand to your forehead, feeling how warm you were.  

“Let's put your things inside and get what you need but you're coming with me after. You're burning up.” he told you and got your stuff out of your car. You felt your heart skip a beat from nerves. “I ehm...” Joel ignored you and got your stuff. You wanted to get one bag out of his hands to help but he shot daggers at you for even thinking about getting a bag out of his hands.... ever.  You quickly looked down as if you were in trouble and Joels look softened and got your hand in his. “You're too good for this world princess.” he remarked and helped you towards your house.  

You unlocked the door and Joel hinted for you to get in first. He made his way to your kitchen and unpacked your stuff, putting it away and keeping the things, he figured were for the cold, in the bag so he could take it with him to his house and nurse you back to health. You were shuffling on your feet and Joel looked up. It was pretty clear that you felt uncomfortable and not really knowing what to do. It wasn't Joel that made you feel uncomfortable but more because you weren't allowed to help and you felt like a burden.  

“Why don't you get the stuff that you want ready, and we can head back to mine in a minute.” he proposed softly. You nodded, giving in silently. You made your way upstairs and gathered some stuff, but you felt so exhausted and out of breath that you sat down for a moment. You felt so terrible that the tears started to gather in your eyes. Your head and mind were so preoccupied that you didn't hear Joel. He softly knocked at your door, scaring you a bit. You quickly wiped away your tears, even though he'd seen you cry before.  

Joels gaze was so full of care and gentleness at that point that you couldn't stop crying right now. “What's wrong sweetheart?” he carefully kneeled before you, holding your hand and his other hand stroked your hair. “I don't want to burden you, Joel. Or take up too much space, change your schedule and stuff. I’ll be alright by myself.” you told him, but you couldn't even convince yourself of that right now.  Joels hand that stroked your hair, went gently over your cheek and his thumb and finger held your chin and made you look at him. “Princess, you will never be a burden to me, at all. I like your presence around me. Sick or not. You'll never take up too much space and you are allowed to be yourself around me. I want you to feel safe, secure, comfortable, loved and adored enough to be yourself around me. I know it's difficult for you, with what you've been through, but I promise you, I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Let me teach you what it's like to be cared about and loved.  I want you to be with me so I can take care of you, and I promise you, you'll never be a burden to me. Let me take care of you right now baby girl. You deserve it. And secretly I know that you really want to right now.” he playfully told you and gently poked your side.  

You couldn't help but smile a bit. “Okay...” was all could say right now, and it was more than enough for Joel as he got a big grin. “Let me help you pack up sweetheart. And if you need more stuff, I can always walk back.” he told you and kissed your forehead. He asked you where your pj's were and put it in your bag, with your toothbrush and all the necessities for now. Joel already chose to give you his hoodies for when you got cold. It was easier, so he didn't have to take much with him but the biggest reason was so he could see you in a hoodie and sweatpants that were his. He saw your book at your night cabinet and got it in the bag as well. “You need anything else princess? If we forgot something, I could get it in a second, that's no problem.” He told you convincingly. “I think we're good.” Joel hummed in satisfaction and gently helped you stand up and helped you down the stairs.  

He got your grocery bag, your keys and locked your door. When you got into his house, he placed the grocery bag on the floor for a second and helped you up the stairs towards his bedroom. You felt butterflies in your stomach seen you've never been upstairs before. 

“Don't worry, I changed the sheets this morning.” he told you but honestly, you wouldn't have mind if he didn't. He placed you gently on his bed and you looked around for a bit. “Why don't you take a shower to freshen up a bit and I'll get you some tea and fruit when you're done, hmh?”  You nodded and he showed you the bathroom. “I'll get you some towels and your pjs.” he told you and you nodded, looking around for a bit and feeling out of place.  

When Joel came back, he flashed you a comforting smile “Yell if you need anything or when you need help sweetheart.” he told you and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Joel.” you told him and he smiled, closing the door.  

After your warm shower, you felt exhausted and wanted to sleep. You got into your pj's and crawled into Joels bed. You snuggled into the pillows and pulled the sheets up to your chin, getting comfortable. It still smelled like Joel, giving a comforting and safe feeling. Like you were finally able to relax and be taken care of for once. You closed your eyes and gave into the tired feeling. 

You didn't know how much time had passed but you were awakened by Joel stroking your hair softly. “Hi baby girl, I made you some tea and some fresh fruit. You can continue sleeping if you eat and drink something.” he told you softly and sweetly as he sat beside you on the bed. You nodded, getting up. Joel adjusted the pillows behind you and walked around the other side of the bed and sat next to you, handing the tray with the fruit, tea, water and painkillers. “Thank you, Joel. I mean it. This means a lot to me.” Joel couldn't help but smile almost proudly. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. “Thank YOU, for letting me take care of you, and trusting me. That means a lot to me as well.”  

You started to feel a bit more comfortable and slowly finished the food he gave you. Joel handed you the tv remote with a wink and you searched something to watch on it. Joel got up to put the tray away but you were quick to take his arm. “Please, stay with me.” Joel melted by your big puppy eyes and smiled “I'll be right back baby girl.” you were content with his reaction and let go of him.  

Joel was as fast as lightning at that moment because he was back in a blink of an eye. He got next to you again and made himself comfortable before hinting to cuddle with him. Your heart was filled to the brink with love. Your head was on his chest and you grabbed onto his shirt before making yourself comfortable. Your eyes started to feel heavy while Joel softly massaged your head. His breathing and heartbeat calmed you down “It's okay baby girl, you're safe here. Get some sleep.” He whispered and in response you snuggled even closer to him and gave into the much-needed sleep.  

~~~~~ 

When you woke up, Joel was gone and with that, it left a sort of emptiness in your heart for a second. The tv was still on with the sound softly echoing through the room. You heard some pans clink together downstairs and you felt at ease, knowing Joel was close by. You sniffled your nose and hid underneath the blankets again from the cold. You heard the rain violently hitting the roof as it covered the sound coming from the tv.  

30 minutes later, Joel came upstairs and you peeked a bit from the covers, looking at him. He smiled warmly at you. “I made you some soup. I promise you, this will get you back on your feet.” he told you with a proud smile on his face as he gave you the tray with the soup. You saw that he had, once again, cut some fresh fruit for you, had a bottle of water and some lemon tea with honey. You smiled shyly “Thank you Joel.” He sat down next to you. “I missed you when I woke up.” you told him honestly without really thinking. Joel smiled proudly again and his cheeks changed in a pink color. “Well, I'm glad you did” the realization of what you had said, kicked in and you felt your cheeks heat up and immediately turned shy again. Joel noticed, and knew it wasn't the time to joke around right now. “But don't worry, I won't go anywhere, princess.” He interlinked your fingers through his and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. You leaned more against Joel in response, not really knowing what to say, so you tried to show his through getting closer and luckily, Joel picked up immediately on them and let out a gravel chuckle.  

“You stay here as long as you need. Even when you're better. Or when you feel like shit, you can always come here. See it as your second home, doll. You're always welcome here, and.... I really like you here.” He looked at you and for the first time, you could see Joel a bit nervous as he confessed to you. “I really like it here too. But only because of you...” You shyly admit, hoping he would catch on what you said, which, of course he did. “Same here, princess.” he gave you lingering kiss on your forehead, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “I'll make sure you're better soon, baby girl. But for now, what old classic movie do you want to watch?” he asked you with a smile, making you giggle.  

You were down bad for this man but in the end, you were very glad and happy that it was this man.  

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 NOBODY KNOWS kim minji x reader

👛★ ͘ ⴰ ever since summer 2022 new jeans has been at the top of the world surpassing and creating records and getting biggger and better every month but then SM Entertainment drops a new girl group stardom out of knowhere on everyone’s heads “surpassing and creating records” just like a certain group, causing a rivalry in the media and between the groups behind closed doors.

in which behind the secret of rivalry between stardom and new jeans, there’s an even bigger secret between their leaders.

PARING — kim minji x idol!reader

last. masterlist. next

★ ͘ PAGE#1 nobody knows — ❝tonight let’s start a masquerade, I’m coming over but nobody knows my little secret ❞

“the rising sensation, stardom, is adding yet another major endorsement to their growing portfolio, now becoming ambassadors for Sony. they’re set to release a special line of headphones with the iconic brand, already racking up over 100,000 pre-orders—and counting.”

a groan came from beside minji, drawing her amused gaze toward the source of irritation.

“we’re listening to the radio! since when did radio news start caring about stardom’s endorsements?” hanni muttered, rolling her eyes. “that’s not news.”

stardom's name had been everywhere lately, dominating headlines as they skyrocketed to fame.

“they’re still not bigger than us,” minji said, patting hanni’s shoulder as she adjusted her seatbelt. “so why does it matter?”

“they have their own sony headphones, minji.”

“ahh, they have it in purple ,” hyein murmured from the seat behind, eyes glued to her phone.

hanni shot her a sharp glare, haerin pinched her arm, and danielle threw her a disapproving look.

“sorry,” hyein mumbled, shrinking back.

“i just want one day where i don’t have to hear about them,” hanni sighed, her frustration clear as the other girls nodded in agreement. “it’s bad enough they’re performing tomorrow, too.”

“how about see them everywhere,” minji chuckled, gesturing out the window at a bus stopped next to their van. plastered along the side was an ad for pocari sweat, featuring stardom smiling brightly for yet another endorsement.

“ugh”

“rate how shady you think they’re gonna be tomorrow, out of ten ,” summer asked, turning to face the rest of the girls lounging in the back of the van, while eunjin quietly flipped through the pages of her book beside her.

“eight point five ,” yuri replied, lifting her head from yn’s shoulder, causing the van to erupt in laughter.

“I was gonna say nine, but I’m bumping it to ten,” hana chimed in, mischievously kicking the back of eunjin’s seat, sending the girl jolting forward. “i don’t trust that hyein girl. she’s always staring at me.”

“oh, you wanna talk about staring? let’s talk about their leader, who’s always staring at our leader,” yuri said, rolling her eyes. “sometimes, i feel like she’s just gonna jump and eat yn, it’s probably all that jealousy.”

yn playfully rolled her eyes at yuri’s comment. “i’ll go with a seven. that sunshine girl can’t do any harm,” she said, finally answering summer’s question.

“i dare them to say something slick,” summer added, turning back to the front with a smirk. “what do you think?” she nudged eunjin, who sighed in response.

all eyes shifted to eunjin—whenever she spoke, the girls paid attention. she didn’t say much, so when she did, they hung onto every word.

“jealousy is a nasty thing. it eats away at you. and they’ve definitely got it,” eunjin replied, calm and thoughtful. “so yeah, i’m with yuri—eight point five.”

a slow clap broke the silence. “bravo, the wise words of eunjin unnie,” yuri teased, making the others chuckle.

the sound of screams and clapping filled the air as minji watched stardom walk onto the stage to receive their award. both newjeans and stardom had been up for artist of the year in japan, and while everyone kind of knew stardom would win— even though it was just a year into their career the girls had been dominating asia—it didn’t stop the girls from feeling a bit salty

"at least we still have the western market," danielle muttered quietly, just loud enough for the girls to hear. they all watched as stardom struggled to start their speech over the deafening cheers and applause.

"they're probably coming for that too," hanni replied, trying to keep her face neutral, fully aware of the cameras trained on them. with the ongoing internet war between newjeans and stardom, their reactions would undoubtedly make headlines. "right, minji?"

hanni glanced at their leader, expecting a response, but minji was silent. her gaze was locked on the stage, fixed on stardom's leader, yn, who was the last to deliver her thank you. yn's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, like crystals catching the stage lights—so captivating, it was impossible to look away. yuri gently wrapped an arm around yn’s waist, offering quiet comfort, which caused minji to slightly clench her jaw, while the other members leaned in supportively as yn spoke.

"thank you to our fans, to everyone who's believed in us," yn's voice trembled slightly, thick with emotion. "we wouldn't be here without you. this award means the world to us... and we promise to keep working harder."

as she finished her speech, the cheers erupted again, louder than ever, but minji hardly noticed. she was still mesmerized, completely taken by yn’s beauty and the way she seemed to glow under the stage lights. hanni glanced at minji again and saw the way she stared, almost hypnotized by stardom's leader.

"dude, are you okay?" hanni asked, raising an eyebrow.

minji blinked, snapping out of her daze, her face suddenly flushing. "what—uh, yeah, i'm fine," she stammered, her voice a little too quick.

hanni narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced but chose to let it slide. "okay..." she mumbled, though her suspicion lingered as she turned back toward the stage. minji's weirdness wasn’t something she was going to ignore forever.

yn linked her arm with yuri’s as they strolled through the hallway, trying to track down their managers. “leave it to us to get lost,” she sighed, glancing around with a hint of amusement.

“who cares that we’re lost? we just won artist of the year! everybody celebrate!” hana exclaimed, jumping onto eunjin’s back, earning a startled yelp from the quieter girl.

"we’re going to a sushi restaurant and eating everything," yuri chimed in, her tone playful as she squeezed yn's arm.

the girls were so caught up in their laughter and excitement that they didn’t notice another group walking toward them from the opposite direction.

summer, still laughing at hana almost slipping off eunjin's back, wasn’t paying attention and kept walking backward—until she crashed into someone with a hard thud. the hallway suddenly fell silent as everyone froze.

“ow!”

“oh, i’m so sor—” summer started to apologize, but her words faltered the moment she realized who she’d bumped into. “—ry,” she finished awkwardly, eyes locking with hyein from newjeans.

hyein’s eyes flashed with recognition, but she quickly masked it, shrugging off summer’s apology as if it were nothing. her gaze briefly flickered to hana, who had slid off eunjin’s back under the weight of the tense moment, though she averted her eyes as hana shot her an icy glare.

hanni stepped forward, her expression hardening as she glared at the five girls. her eyes locked onto summer. “you should be sorry. maybe watch where you’re going. hyein’s already had an injury—we don’t need another.”

summer’s eyebrows shot up, clearly not liking the tone. she glanced behind her, almost in disbelief, as if confirming hanni had really spoken to her like that. a dry laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. “i know you’re not serious—”

eunjin gently placed a hand on summer’s shoulder, a silent plea to drop it. “leave it alone.”

yn stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “summer unnie, just let it go.”

but hanni wasn’t done. “what? i was just reminding your member to watch where she’s going. what’s the problem?” she snapped back, the situation wasn’t serious but she couldn’t hold back her resentment towards the girl group so she used this as an opportunity.

hanni didn’t back down, her focus now shifting to yn. “maybe your leader can explain it, so you understand better.” she said coolly, her challenge clear.

yn did exactly what summer had done—looked behind herself in disbelief—before she took a step forward, but yuri’s arm quickly wrapped around her waist, pulling her back. "leave it.” yuri whispered, though yn’s eyes were still locked on hanni's, before switching to minji’s who looks away.

“you’re right.” yn said her voice calm, “they’re just bitter.” she says her eyes still on minji before walking straight past the rest of the group the rest of the girls following behind her.

“you two,” yuri muttered, shaking her head as she pointed at yn and summer, “need serious anger management.”

yn cursed under her breath as her phone buzzed softly, hoping it didn’t wake yuri, who was fast asleep beside her in the hotel bed. glancing at the screen, she saw the message

she looked at the message.

“I’m near your hotel.”

she sighed quietly, running a hand through her hair before carefully sliding out of bed, moving cautiously so as not to disturb hana, who was sprawled out in a starfish position on the other bed.

with a quick glance around to make sure no one stirred, yn slipped out of the hotel room as quietly as possible and made her way down to the street outside, her heart racing with anticipation.

"hey."

minji looked up from her phone to find yn standing in front of her, a juicy couture cap pulled low over her head. minji couldn’t help but smile. "hey."

"you texted," yn said softly, her eyes scanning minji's face as if searching for something.

"i did."

"so..."

"i missed you," minji admitted, gently pulling yn closer by the arm. yn’s eyes dropped, her cheeks flushing as she looked away, clearly flustered.

"same," yn mumbled, clearly embarrassed. after a pause, she added, "your member really wanted to pick a fight today, huh?"

minji groaned, rolling her eyes as she tugged yn even closer, until there was almost no space left between them. "yeah..." she trailed off, unsure what to say. it wasn’t like she fully agreed with her group's dislike toward stardom, but she understood the frustration. stardom had come out of nowhere, sweeping up all the attention.

"let’s not talk about that," minji murmured, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the gold “s” necklace hanging around yn's neck. all of the stardom girls had one, each in either silver or gold.

minji’s tone shifted as she changed the subject. "there’s this 24 hour ramen place..." she started, watching as a smile slowly spread across yn’s face. "if you want to…"

"of course i do," yn replied, her smile now fully blooming, the tension between them melting away.

[tokiwarcube]

How They Celebrate Your Birthday

All the boys + Charles for this one!

Charles Foster Offdensen

Taking care of the boys is a full-time task, but that doesn’t mean he misses your birthday — not by a long shot. But be careful not to let your birth date slip — the guys would be all too happy to use it as an excuse to take all seven of you out to some insane party. Or you know, do, if that’s your style. A birthday is an excuse to celebrate, and there’s very little they won’t do to see Charles get sloshed — with his partner, nonetheless.

Otherwise, he really makes you feel loved throughout the day. Little notes in the morning, littered around the house — on the nightstand, the bathroom counter, by your morning mug. Among those are a request to let him know when you wake, so he can order in for you. He wishes he could stay for breakfast, truly, but he’s not going to wake you up at 4:00am on your birthday. God knows you work hard enough as is.

He checks in throughout the day, seemingly just a little more eager than usual to talk with you, and hear your voice. Call him sentimental, but he really wishes he could spend the full day with you. Alas, work calls.

Another note — Check under the sofa, be ready by 6:00. I love you, happy birthday.

He really shines when he comes home, though. A hand on the small of your back, adjusting the nonexistent imperfections in the perfectly-tailored outfit he had left for you, purely for the sake of touching, of holding. And from there, the night is yours. Dinner, dancing, a show… it’s all so cliche on paper, but he really makes you feel loved. A classical romance. He makes the cliche seem new, seem real, seem genuine.

Charles is a very, very attentive man, so it’s really no surprise when he brings out your real gift at the end of the night, and it just so happens to be the perfect thing. Although surprisingly, it’s not something you’ve ever asked for. Perhaps never even thought of, or seen — and yet, it’s so clearly tailored to your tastes. He’s good like that.

As the two of you are falling asleep towards the end of the night, he can’t help but check in — Did you have a good time tonight? As though he didn’t serve you your very own Hallmark moment. Again, he’s sweet like that.

Nathan Explosion

You know, for a man, who hates the media, he is pretty adamant on having a big party for you. Like yeah, he hates the publicity, but it’s you. And you deserve the darkest, most brutal birthday party of them all.

He knows you very well, don’t get me wrong, but he’s liable to overthink things a little. He could benefit a bit from some hints as to what exactly you’d like to do for your birthday… he’d like to avoid another Rockzo incident, if possible. But even if you do drop a few hints, he likes to surprise you with the results. You’ll have a lot of fun, but you might have a little heart attack first. He makes up for it, though.

Most of the heartfelt things are done earlier in the day, and the real party is reserved for night time. The boys already give him enough shit for how whipped he is for you, so a live performance is basically out of the question (lest the two of you be subjected to a healthy amount of ribbing from your peers), but that’s not to say he doesn’t attempt something similar. Instead, he writes, and has everyone record their parts individually — never quite saying what it’s for — and compiles it himself, solo. It’s not the usual production quality, but that’s not what you’re looking for — it’s sweet. Steeped in ichor and shadow, sure, but sweet nonetheless.

He’s usually pretty insatiable with PDA, and that doubles when drunk. But when drunk, on your birthday? You have to pry him off with a crowbar. He usually doesn’t talk actively about you in front of the cameras — God knows the media already knows way too much about the two of you — but tonight, he can’t seem to stop talking about how fucking awesome you are, and how it’s your birthday, and—

You’ll have a good time teasing him about it in the morning, once the hangover dulls.

Pickles the Drummer

Just when you think he’s partied as hard as he can, he finds a way to outdo himself. And your birthday is quite the opportunity, no?

Listen, if you want to have a nice, quiet day in, he’s happy to oblige. It’s your birthday, and he’s damn determined to make it the best one yet. And if that’s your version of a good time, he’s ready to get some takeout from that random place on the corner that you like — even though there’s a perfectly good Michelin 5-star restaurant in their house — and just hang out. Yes, really.

But if you want to get fucked up? Babe, we’re partying around the world. Fuck it, let’s go for a week! Best birthday ever, right? Whatever you say, goes.

It’s not all drugs, mind you — he’s got other things planned, too. The schedule just allows for a bit of inebriation in-between… or during. Listen, if you can deal with crowds while high, it’s real fun to go to a show or two. Everything is just so vibrant, so fluid — whether you’re up front with wide eyes or twirling in the back, Pickles makes it a very, very fun experience. And as much as he would like to get trashed beyond belief, the high tolerance does come in rather handy in moments like these — he’s happy to babysit you a bit, if it makes you feel more secure.

Surprising noone, he is a very, very good gift giver. After everything is said and done, and you’re both blinking awake the next day, that’s when he shuffles around to find the gift he set aside. He wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost in the haze, after all. Despite everything, he’s a fantastic listener, and somehow, he always seems to find that one special thing you’ve been looking for.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Complete royalty treatment — so long as he’s there (or, perhaps more aptly, the Klokateers are), you won’t be lifting a finger. He’s such a diva about it — you thought he was bad when it came to him, but with you? Beyond words. Consequently, this also means that everybody within a 50mi radius will know that its your birthday. He’s very embarrassing about it too, with how he takes the chance to coo about it whenever he gets the chance. Very saccharine — borderline patronizing, if you didn’t know him so well to know its the opposite — with an undertone of something you just can’t place. Although despite the embarrassment, you can’t lie — it does make your heart flutter just a little bit. You can’t tell if he’s getting off on it, or if he’s just excited to have a day where you have to let yourself be pampered.

He is very adamant about getting you an actual gift — not just sex, surprising everyone — and he’s really rather thoughtful about it. He listens a bit more aptly than usual in the months leading up to your birthday, and does his best to actually keep it a secret… with varying success. But it’s the thought that counts. When morning comes, he’s already at the foot of your shared bed, gift in hand. He doesn’t like extracting himself from your hold in the morning, but today, he’ll make an exception. Hard not to, when you tiredly paw at the gift — he places a quick kiss to your forehead before the gift is fully unwrapped, just out of softness.

He’s generally up for anything you want to do, and with the seemingly unlimited funds that come with stardom, nothing really bars you from fucking around on the daily… but now, he’s especially game for whatever you want to do today. If there’s anything you’ve been begging to drag him to do, now’s the time — he’ll do it for you, with only minor complaints.

To that end, while he does have the Klokateers wait on you hand and foot, you’re in charge of where the day goes. It’s your big day after all.

But yes, the birthday sex is phenomenal. That’s a given.

Toki Wartooth

Every birthday Toki’s had since joining Dethklok has been nothing if not extravagant — he makes it a point to live every day like it’s his last day on Earth, but birthdays? Birthdays go above and beyond — no holds barred. So with his partner, the love of his life? You may as well be royalty.

Although, in typical style, Toki strikes a perfect balance between heartfelt and lavish. He’ll buy you the world if you only ask — or perhaps, even if you don’t — but interspersed are his own, handmade gifts. This year he planned a worldwide adventure, but he also slotted in your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants into his scheduling. His planning abilities are lackluster for the average event, but he really puts his all into it for birthdays. (Although if you walk into Charles’ office at just the right time, you do gain a little bit of insight into who did the actual “organizing” part. Toki has the ideas, and Charles organizes it into something that won’t give you whiplash.)

He’s honestly so excited for your birthday, you’d think it was his own. He lets you wake up on your own, despite his own eagerness — but he can’t help placing a kiss to your lips as you blink the sleep from your eyes. Light, still floating on the ghost of your dreams, it’s a very sweet moment. That is, until he’s tugging you upwards to go on your adventures for the day.

One tradition he is very insistent on, is birthday cake. Very adamant about having a candle for every year of life — the number candles do not count — and making a wish. He always asks what you wished for, but don’t answer — it’s a trap. He’ll actively cover your mouth if you try to tell him, scolding you — didn’t you know the wish doesn’t come true if you say what it was?

William Murderface

Birthdays fucking suck — it’s another year closer to death, and nobody will fucking leave you alone, they give you all this shit you don’t want, and—

Yeah, that’s all bullshit. He loves birthdays, he’s just… never really celebrated them in a way that’s fun to him. Growing up it was all about going to the shitty little community park in town, with the hot metal slides that always managed to burn him, and if it wasn’t that, it was going to the run-down minigolf place on the outskirts that always reeked of stagnant water and old cheese. Boring. A chore. But recently, his tune has changed a bit. I mean sure, the boys aren’t always great at showing that they care, but they certainly make birthdays fun. Worth having. So despite having very little frame of reference, he really strives to make every one of your birthdays memorable, too.

Except again, he has… no idea what to do. Sure, he knows what you like to do, but you do those things every day. And it would be weird to ask, because isn’t it supposed to be a surprise? He spends night after night, quite literally, googling ideas on what to do. Unsurprisingly, Google isn’t very helpful in this department, considering the mass amount of wealth and time William has. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t been caught in planning.

But he really does put so much thought into the celebration, and is very, very particular about getting everything just right. He really takes the “diva” crown from Skwisgaar, on this occasion. This color is not the same shade he sent them, he’s certain of it, and it will be corrected before you have the chance to see it. Wh- yes it matters, this isn’t your favorite color, the one he sent was. Jeez, some people.

You’ve always known that he loves you, but it really bleeds through in all of the little decisions he makes for your big day. He’s more inclined to go big and flashy — and if you’re the type, he really does go above and beyond — but if you’re the quieter type, he sets the atmosphere perfectly. And he might be sweating a bit beneath the collar in the latter case, but it’s the thought that counts.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It's like a ping pong game now isn't it? And MM doesn't know how to play this game, it's going from bad to worse for Madame Markle..

Well, the rumor as per Lady C (so take with a truckload of salt) is that allegedly Meghan planted the original Hollywood Reporter story herself so she could get some sympathy PR. Supposedly Meghan gave the HR reporter one name to use (my money's on the individual who still works at Archewell because no way would that person talk without Meghan's explicit consent) and the guy dug up the other 11 on his own.

The Us Weekly was 100% a clapback to The Hollywood Reporter. Given how quickly that story came out, it was definitely in the works when HR published. The Sussexes' "no comment" answer to the HR was because the Us Weekly story was already in progress. Which I suspect Ari and WME were probably aware of as well, given how they've nuked similar "exposes" for other clients. It was out of character for them to let a story like this get published without interference, just like it's out of character for Meghan to take a complaint like this lying down.

And now there's a new exclusive in The Daily Beast. The story about Meghan popping off on a florist is not new and has been around for a long time (which is different from the wedding florist rumor), but the preceding quote about how she's happy when everything goes her way but becomes "demonic" when it doesn't is new.

Is this the start of a press tsunami? Certainly does feel like it, and that's significant because Talking Tarot (an old tumblr blogger from the Sussexes' early days whose track record was very good but who left royal-watching in 2020/2021ish) predicted a press tsunami very similar to what we saw August - November 2018 preceding a Sussex divorce announcement.

What feels familiar about this, as also happened in the 2018 press tsunami (and ignoring Lady C's allegations since they can't be verified), is that the originating source of these stories is not a Sussex affiliate planting PR at Meghan's behest but rather someone acting independently, followed by Meghan (with Harry) clapping back so egregiously that other stories, other leaks, other sources speak out.

And this is different from the saga with Tom's letter. Remember, Meghan wrote that letter intending for him to leak it so she could get sympathy PR and when he didn't, she baited him with the People 5 Friends story. That's her usual MO, one we've seen time and time again since November 2016: Meghan claims one thing. Harry or the BRF (or Tom in the People instance) say something else. Meghan claps back with a new narrative or she doubles down.

But I'm advising caution. While this press tsunami eve (if you will) looks promising, we've had many false starts before. Let's see what happens next. Does Meghan respond to The Daily Beast? Does this go away? Or is this the fatal chink in the armor that makes the Sussexes' glass house finally collapse?

[sweetbunpura]

I am suffering this week+ so this has come to mind. SOME of the boys *cough cough* Ace, have been getting a little to comfortable with Yuu and seem to think she’s one of the guys. She may or may not be on her period and someone tells her to ‘man up’ or jokes about her being over dramatic (cause she didn’t complain about overblots, how bad could cramps be). So, with Crewel’s assistance, she made a VERY strong potion to genderswap all our main guy for a month. Enjoy the back pain and period insanity everyone.

I know I’m full on just in a mood cause one of my co-workers was an ass, but I legit wonder how the guys would handle it now.

Hope you’re having a good day! Remember to take care of yourself.

Oh I hope you end up feeling better, Cupcake! And I'm doing good!

Character who will OWN that genderswap: Vil, Lilia, Cater, Jade, Floyd, Jamil, Malleus, Rook

Characters who do not care: Trey, Ruggie, Leona, Kalim, Silver, Jack, Sebek

Characters going through it right now: Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Azul, Idia, Epel (he's already suffering enough)

Characters watching the mayhem unfold: Yuu, Ortho (he's recording everything)

Those going through it right now are begging Yuu to undo the potion, who just smiles at everything unfolding. But Yuu forgot one thing, she is pansexual, and these guys make very beautiful girls.

[stardustbuck]

glad to see other people having the same issue i do with the dadt hc. i don't want to make people feel bad for having it but also it does not sit well with me especially when we already know how much tommy struggled with his sexuality.

I'm going to assume ppl who have this HC don't know and haven't dived into the specifics of what getting a discharge via dadt implies especially at the time Tommy was in the army. it's not a slap on the wrist discharge, you got essentially kicked out with all your benefits stripped from you just like every other dishonorable discharge (minus jail time for ppl who committed actual crimes). I especially don't think Tommy would have done something smth reckless enough to get caught, being lgbt during this time, especially in the military was dangerous. it wasn't unheard of to be beaten or even killed/attempted murder by other service members. hate crimes in the military were just as common outside of the service. I do think Tommy was definitely down low during his time from the military up until he left the 118, but he was very careful.

dadt went on your record and a job like LAFD would definitely be looking at Tommy's military records and seeing he was dadt in 2004/2005 would have had his application thrown in the trash tbh. I know this is the suspend your disbelief show, but I seriously would be upset if this was overlooked because it destroyed a lot of queer service members lives and continues to cause issues for many queer veterans who are still fighting to get their benefits since dadt was repealed.

IMO there's a reason Tommy was closeted for so long, it was instilled in him throughout his childhood, his military service and captain gerrard. he probably felt ashamed of it for so long, which is why is took him until his 30s to come to terms with the fact that he is gay and he did a lot of work to be where he is currently with Buck.

I get that dadt adds angst and drama to potential Tommy lore but I simply do not see how it makes any sense for Tommy to be dadt'd nor do i need or want more queer trauma porn in this show.

but yk, everyone is entitled to their own opinions. I'm simply trying to spread the word on why I find this hc ... not the best.

[toxintouch]

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts.  I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it.  p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.  

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers.  So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar.  You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

 That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.”  Mhin says in lieu of a greeting.  You startle, reeling around to face them.  Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”  You chide, in mock affront.  “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.”  Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.”  They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling.  You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold.  You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it.  Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?”  You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment.   “Sometimes I wonder…  Fine.  Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold.  The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind.  You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building.  Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?”  Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.”  Mhin responds.  “Actual ghost sightings are very rare.  And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources.  People in Eridia can be quite superstitious.  Count on rats or other pests.  It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?”  You ask, more out of curiosity than anything.  You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.”  Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark.  Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind.  Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind.  You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step.  Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort.  You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor.  As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly.  Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.  

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint.  An abstract painting with no proper canvas.  It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose.  The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison.  You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…  

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?”  You wonder aloud.  You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting.  “I wouldn't define that as art.”  Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall.  “That’s just…paint.  If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks.  Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one.  A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change.  A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff.  “...I don’t smell anything.  Do you?”

“Dust.  Rotting wood.  And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for.  Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–”  Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted.  Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches.  No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?”  You posit.  You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes.  There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close.  They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin.  They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other.  You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.  

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.  

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it.  Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood.  “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit.  “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.”  Mhin announces.  “And a feeling that you’re being watched.  Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well.  Hold this.”  Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel.  Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror.  There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there.  Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider.  “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away.  A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all.  Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down.  If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages.  (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)  

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious.  You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole.  “Stay close.”  There’s a brush of fingertips against your back.  “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly.  And there’s not much in here that it could throw.  Just stay calm.  If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray.  You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet.  There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air.  Musty and earthy-floral.  Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

    Eyes on you.  

Touch like a gossamer spider web.  Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently.  “Something just–”  

The cold hits you then.  Bone deep and all consuming.  Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too.  Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close.  And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up.  Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede.  They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit.  Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.  

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee.  Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them.  With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.”  Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones.  How did Vere even do that?  You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process.  Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact.  Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care.  You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw.  They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air.  Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm.  Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia.  Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin.  You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger.  Their grip is assertive, certain.  You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride.  Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak.  Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back.  You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them.  You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful.  The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky.  You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home.  You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.  

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned.  You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language.  Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering.  Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down.  “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved.  The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

 

“You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?”  Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.”  Mhin crosses their arms again.  “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I?  Consider it hazard pay.”  Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere.  “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though.  Don’t forget.  I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say.  Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity.  Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to.  You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can.  And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.  

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract.  Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it?  To include you in their life?  Is that what you’re supposed to take from this?  That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

 

Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?  

“Goodnight, Mhin.”  You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

   ✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

 

 You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine.  The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed.  You smooth down the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight.  You tug the covers up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable.

As your eyes finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.  

It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you.

Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort. 

You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream.

“Vere, what–”

“Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin.

“I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

[pharawee]

Rose's Day of Asks - the sequel

Hi! My question for you... Which actors do you wish would get cast in a bl as a lead? and with what partner, if you have any in mind?

Have a wonderful night. Rose❤️

Hi Rose, thank you so much for your question! I hope you feel better already. 💜💜💜

There's so many actors I'd love to finally see as the lead in a BL - mostly solo actors because they started their acting careers as side characters, love rivals or villains so there's so much potential to pair them with other fresh faces.

Someone who immediately comes to mind (surprising, I know lmao) is Winner Tanatat because I love him dearly and he's reliably been stealing the show for me wherever he pops up. He's basically taken Big Thanakorn's place on top of the third wheel podium now that Big FINALLY got his well-deserved main role.

I also can't believe domundi have been sleeping on Poppy Ratchapong for so long. Yes, he's talented and funny but have you considered giving Poppy a boyfriend?? Maybe make it Nont Intanont because they both looked really good in Nont's MV for ธรรมดาที่ไหน:

Then again, domundi have also been sleeping on Mark Sorntast until recently when he's been looking like that FOR YEARS.

And gmmtv isn't much better. I mean, Papang Phromphiriya exists. I know I'm not alone in wanting him as the lead in a BL (or any show, really, just give me more Papang I'm begging you gmmtv 😭).

I'm also very partial to Kay Lertsittichai but gmmtv seem to have firmly typecast him as the villain now. Which is an injustice (I like his villains though - they're very pathetic and wet).

Same with idolfactory and Heng Asavarid. Someone free these men from their status as morally questionable side characters!

Unpopular opinion time but this scene with Heng and Nat Sakdatorn in The Sign stole the whole show for me. The things I'd do for more HengNat. 🫠

Then there's Kokliang Parinya who's posting the most beautiful photoshoots on his insta EVERY DAMN WEEK yet somehow he's not been the lead in a BL even once. That man's a medical doctor ffs please someone cast him as the leading man. 🙏

I also need justice for Non Ratchanon (even though he's been in a short story compilation by Director Golf and in a few other things like The Rebound but that just shows how well he can act) and I'd love to see him as the lead in a fully-fledged 12 episode BL.

The same goes for Bank Chanwut. I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HIM (and imagine what could have been if 9NAA didn't mess up Beyond the Star).

And I generally don't understand how Rossi Nonthakorn isn't everywhere after On Cloud Nine (yes technically he was playing the lead here and in another shortform series along with Non Ratchanon but that's not the same innit).

This is getting far too long already but I can't believe I almost forgot about Boss Thawatchanin who can do cute and, uh, whatever else that was with Gap Jakarin in Norrasing (but, really, I don't mind, give me more GapBoss):

And what about Na Naphat? He made me like Tawan in Kinnporsche (he did everything wrong and I love him) AND WE WERE PROMISED NA AND FIAT PATCHATA IN WISH ME LUCK!!

There's really so many other actors that I'd love to see in the spotlight in their own series. Like JJFong in a proper show where they aren't relegated to comic relief. Or JJUs now that they're freed from BOC's basement. Or PromMark because they've been trying to sail their ship for years now (and they recorded a song together that's still one of my faves) but maybe we'll finally get lucky in Jack & Joker. 🤞

[sammyluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, fluff, sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n, 9.5K words. requested !

summary : sam's being overprotective of you, and it leads to an argument and something more.

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger’s seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don’t quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn’t seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[nulfaga]

Traveling lady, stay a while Until the night is over I'm just a station on your way I know I'm not your lover

[seaofreverie]

GUUUYYUYSSSD !!!!!

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

KIMONO MY HOUSE VINYL!!!!!!

Also funny story which is that when my brother took these to the cashier he said something like "oh... Sparks... they were here one year ago"

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Still blows my mind the disparity between the Eng and the JP localization of Sonic Frontiers

So in the og English Tails expresses that he needs to part ways from Sonic so he can grow into a hero on his own, right? That he can't grow by being with him?

But like. The director of the game, who worked with Ian Flynn, worked on the JP localization and it's like. You're telling me that when they localized that scene for the Japanese audience

That it was about Tails learning that there are things only he can do? That instead of concluding that he needs to part ways from Sonic and become a hero, he just comes to realizes the ways in which he and Sonic fill each other's gaps? He learns that he already is on equal footing with Sonic. The two of them are just heroes who save people in different ways?

[crescentfool]

so you want to use OBS

hello! i’ve decided to compile information on my OBS setup and some resources that have helped me along the way.  this is mostly for personal reference, but maybe others can make use of this information!

some notes before i get into it:

i use OBS for both offline recording and (twitch) streaming. any footage i record is edited using DaVinci Resolve 18, which is free.

most of my OBS captures are of video games (through a USB capture card, specifically elgato), and the occasional screen/application capture (like clip studio paint, and sometimes PC games).

as such, the information here is reflective of these experiences. this post is not comprehensive to all of OBS’s features- this is just an overview of the settings and configurations that are most relevant to me.

with that out of the way, all the information will be under the cut!

Basic Setup

file format:

how to change: settings -> output -> recording -> recording format -> press “apply” once finished!

I save most of my recordings as .mkv files- it supports multi-track audio! i prefer .mkv over .mp4 because if your power goes out, you still have a recording to work with. 

.mkv files can be read by DaVinci Resolve without an issue- but for Adobe software, they'll need to be remuxed to .mp4 within OBS! (file -> remux recordings -> press the … to select a file -> press the “remux” button)

video resolution and framerate:

how to change: settings -> video -> output (scaled) resolution

my obs canvas is @ 1920 x 1080p (16:9)

i switch between 720p and 1080p as needed! if you're concerned about space, you can probably just go for 720p. i also record at 30 fps, simply because that’s what my capture card supports.

video bitrate:

how to change: settings -> output -> encoder settings (located in both the streaming and recording tab) -> press “apply” once finished!

bitrate is a bit of a doozy to explain, but the most important thing to know is that bitrate affects your video’s quality. lower numbers = lower quality, while higher numbers = higher quality. 

generally speaking, you'll want higher bitrate when you're recording things with high depth of information (e.g. you’d want a higher bitrate for something fast-paced like splatoon, compared to a slower-paced game like animal crossing).

my video bitrate is either set to 3000 or 4000 kbps! and here's some of my other (related) settings while i'm at it:

you can put your bitrate at much higher values than me if you're a stickler for quality- but keep in mind that a higher bitrate means:

bigger file size

more information to upload (when streaming)

your computer will need to encode more

i’d recommend reading twitch’s guidelines on encoding, bitrate, resolution, and framerate to get an idea of what values to pick. for people who are doing offline recording or streaming on a different platform, i suggest googling the appropriate resources!

multi-track audio:

this is mostly applicable to anyone looking to do video editing!

multi-track audio basically allows you to separate your audio sources (e.g. discord, game audio, and your own microphone) into different tracks. 

this is an immensely helpful tool because it lets you adjust audio levels in post-production (editing). some examples of how this can be used:

increasing someones microphone volume if they speak too softly

increasing/decreasing game audio

muting swear words/sensitive information

completely muting voice call + microphone if you want to upload a no commentary video

and more!

to set this up, take a look at your audio mixer panel, and press the ⚙ icon. this will bring up advanced audio properties.

by checkmarking a track box, it puts the audio on that track. to make the above screenshot easier to digest:

track 1 consists of ALL three audio sources- desktop, elgato, and microphone.

track 2 only has the microphone audio.

track 3 only has desktop audio (i use this for voice calls)

track 4 only has the elgato capture card audio (game audio). the volume has also been lowered so that any speaking voices can be heard clearly.

tracks 5 and 6 are unused.

you might be wondering, “why do all three of these have 1 checked off?” this is what i call the universal audio track. i recommend having a universal audio track for a few reasons:

when you stream from OBS onto twitch/youtube- you have to select ONE audio track.

it’s also a nice backup in case you didn’t separate your audio correctly.

if for whatever reason you need to move around your individual audio tracks in editing, the universal track acts as a nice reference point.

mark off your audio tracks for each audio source as you see fit! once you’re finished with the advanced audio properties, go to settings > output.

for the streaming tab, you’ll want to have the number of your universal audio track selected. in my case, that will be audio track 1.

for the recording tab, checkmark all the audio tracks that are applicable to you (in my case, audio tracks 1, 2, 3, and 4). by default, only audio track 1 is selected.

if you don’t check off the additional audio tracks in the output > recordings section, you will not have access to those audio tracks in editing, and you won’t be able to edit your audio tracks independently of each other. so don’t forget to do this! 👍

custom browser docks

custom browser docks are a great tool for when you’re streaming and want to have access to your twitch chat and/or activity feed! (or if you wanted to have some other web browser on OBS).

to create one, go to docks -> custom browser docks.

you’ll be given a table interface that asks you to put the dock name and URL. for streamers who want to have chat and alerts available, do the following:

on twitch’s homepage, go to the upper right and click your icon

then, click creator dashboard

once you’re on your dashboard, go to stream manager

click the vertical “...” on my chat OR activity feed.

press “pop-out chat” OR “pop-out activity feed”

copy and paste the link into the table back into OBS

press apply once you’re done

click and drag the docks around at your leisure to put them where you like!

if you ever decide you don’t want to have something on your OBS dock (or want to bring something back), go to the toolbar, click “docks,” and click the appropriate dock!

third party things

a section of optional things that you may enjoy having.

streamlabs alerts

this is basically for anyone who streams and wants to have their chat and/or follower notifications visualized on screen!

streamlab alerts can be added to OBS by adding a browser source into your scene, and the specifics can be customized on streamlabs itself. it’s pretty self-explanatory, so i’ll just leave a link to streamlabs website, where you can log in using the streaming platform of your choice: https://streamlabs.com/

discord overlay

this is a browser source that can be set up to show people who are in a server's voice chat and who speaks. i recommend this to people who make multiplayer content- it can help viewers distinguish who is who but also it can be helpful in editing.

to set this up, go to https://streamkit.discord.com/overlay, click “install for OBS,” and after logging in with discord, go to “voice widget” and click the server and voice channel you want.

you are able to apply CSS if you'd like more control over the visuals, but the standard layout tends to work fine for me! a search of “discord overlay css” on youtube can help you get more information.

veadotube mini

this is a pngtuber software that a friend recommended to me! no webcam is required- mouth opening and closing is based on your microphone input!

you can download it here (it’s pay what you want!): https://olmewe.itch.io/veadotube-mini

for a proper tutorial on how to use it, i recommend checking out the app's documentation, which you can read here: https://veado.tube/help/

source record

have you ever wanted to stream something with a chat overlay/layout, but wanted your recording to ONLY be the gameplay? or maybe you wanted to record BOTH your gameplay AND your webcam so that you can have a crisp zoom-in on your webcam!

source record is a third party plugin that can help you with that!

the general gist of source record involves applying the “source record” filter on either a scene or source, and customizing the encoding settings accordingly. the exact details of how to set it up is beyond the scope of this post, so I'll just direct people to this video instead (it was very helpful to me):

⚠ a quick note about source record: this plugin can be intense for your computer. be sure to do test recordings and the like to see what your computer can handle (and see if the recordings come out the way you like). it took me a few tests before i settled onto something i liked!

you can download and install source record here: https://obsproject.com/forum/resources/source-record.1285/

vdo.ninja

have you ever wanted to do a collaborative video or stream where you feature someone else’s video on your stream? or maybe you’re doing a multi-person streaming event! vdo.ninja is the perfect tool for you!

vdo.ninja turns your OBS virtual camera into a browser source link- which your collaborator can add on their stream! this is a new tool that i’ve added to my arsenal recently- since my friend and i are planning to stream a side order challenge together! i’ve still got to iron it out a bit more, but i like what i’ve used of it so far.

try it out for yourself at their website here (with documentation and demos available on the homepage!): https://vdo.ninja/ (no downloads required!)

ok! i’m set up! what now?

and with that, that’s all of the settings and tools that i thought would be worth mentioning! while most of my setup was written with video games in mind, some of these plugins and setups may be applicable to other types of videos (e.g. tabletop gaming with a physical camera)!

now that i’ve outlined all these settings, i have one more thing i have to say: regardless of what you're using OBS for, do a test recording before doing anything “official” with it. this recording can be as short as 30 seconds. it’s a good habit to develop that can make sure your streams/recordings turn out the way you want them to!

here are the kinds of things i like to check! it’s not an exhaustive list, but this can be a starting point:

video:

does my video look the way i want it to (and can my computer handle that)?

can my computer handle the load of encoding? - OBS will note in the bottom if the encoding is overloaded. if it can’t handle it, turn down your bitrate or adjust other encoding settings (e.g. i had to toggle psycho visual tuning OFF because it was causing lag)

this is especially the case if you're recording PC games- you don’t want to have slowdown on either your game or the recording!

audio:

are my audio sources (e.g. desktop audio and microphone) correct? - if you plug/unplug devices a lot, be sure to check this (settings -> audio).

are any of my audio sources muted? - make sure you don’t have anything on 🔇 if you don’t want it to be muted! otherwise the audio will be lost forever… (i lost my friend’s VC audio once… it was sad)

are my audio tracks separated properly? - requires you to boot up your editing software, but it's worth doing! for the test recording, just have something from all your sources playing at once, and see if your editor has things separated into tracks.

can i hear the voices clearly? or does the music and/or game overpower them?

if for whatever reason your OBS crashes, or you want more information on anything “critical” or “warning” worthy in your set-up, you can go to help > log files > upload current log file > analyze. crash logs currently can’t be analyzed by the log analyzer- but they’re a valuable tool when asking for help on the OBS forums!

and that’s all! for real, this time. i hope that some of these tools and settings can help anyone wanting to get more out of OBS. there’s definitely other things i didn’t touch upon (e.g. audio filters for noise compression, suppression, etc.), so i suggest doing your own research and trying things out!

happy recording/streaming, and thanks for reading! ✨

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

screaming crying coughing up blood every time i have to fucking defend genocide joe bc ppl wanna lie and say he isn't responsible for most of the best domestic policy we've seen in decades

his foreign policy is dogshit, yes, and he should rightly be called on it and primaried out, but we can criticize the shit he's actually done wrong instead of making shit up about him ~not doing anything good~

[slowlyvaliantmoon]

eegggghhhhhhhhhhhhh