#look at the blur effect its actually good right??

[katkalis-the-horror-fanartist]

i have a confession I actually kinda like barbatos

I uh...do too...

If this in fact ISNT what you meant, then excuse me, for I went a little bit off the rails 😳

[sttoru]

toji never celebrates his birthday and thus learned to treat it as any other regular day. well, until you came into the picture and did the unexpected.

☀︎｜tags. dom!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut mixed with fluff & sprinkle of angst. implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji late 20’s /early 30’s) implied size difference, p in v -> unprotected, cowgirl position, toji actually being a soft dom kinda, praise mixed with tiny bit of degradation, slight corruption kink, dirty talk / teasing, biting, creampie, reader gets called ‘princess, little girl \\ pretty, innocent, small'. not beta read. happy bday hubby!

“i told ya — fuck jus’ like that — not to buy or do anythin’ for me on m’birthday.” toji’s head lolls back against the pillow while his rough palms explore every inch of your gorgeous body. the word ‘birthday’ rolls off his tongue in a bitter manner. the assassin never celebrates that dreadful day, as he calls it.

he’s never found it to be worth remembering. his family couldn’t care less about that day when he was a child, so why would he?

but, that changed when you came into his life. toji flinched when he heard a loud ‘pop!’ sound upon opening the front door to his apartment. he was used to those noises being one of danger and thus swiftly reached for the spare weapon in his pocket. . . only to notice you standing behind the door with a party popper and a homemade cake.

the older man froze in place for a good few seconds, though was quick to realise the situation and relax. after the initial shock died down, you excitedly dragged him off to the living room to show him the presents you bought.

toji's first reflex was to scold you for spending money on him. he had never gotten anything for his birthday—it was weird to finally receive something from someone who actually cares for him. it somehow made him feel guilty as well. was he worth spending money on?

toji’s impressed reactions when unwrapping the presents showed you exactly how foreign the moment was to him: he’s never opened any gifts before. that much was even more evident after witnessing his inexperience in peeling off the tape from the boxes.

eventually, after opening around seven gifts, toji got to unwrap his final present. the present which was you.

the way you innocently yet seductively whispered words of affection in his ears made his mind go blank. even if it were simple ‘i love you’s and ‘happy birthday’ wishes. the red dress you had on and how your figure looked in it made everything ten times more sexual to the assassin. anything after that was a complete blur. his body moved on its own and yours followed right after until you finally landed on top of him — riding him.

toji’s half-lidded eyes couldn’t get enough of the sight he's witnessing. maybe his birthday wasn't such a bad day after all; the loving memories you're currently creating would surely outbalance the negative ones.

you shake your head at toji’s earlier sentence and tighten your grip on his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his skin and leaving faint red marks. you almost can’t talk due to the overexertion—your hips continuously rising and falling back down for the sake of your lover, “i- mph, wanted to get you all those things. you deserve them, toji.”

the view of your small body trying its hardest to not give in to its need of an orgasm made the assassin dizzy. his large hands settle on your waist and his eyes watch your every move from behind his black bangs. toji silently hisses as he feels your tight cunt clenching around him, “. . . f-shit. easy there.”

your pretty face is his weakness. especially when your usual innocent look gets replaced by one filled with carnal desire. toji can easily get off to the idea of him having that effect on you—his words, body, looks and actions that corrupted your every being in intimate moments like these.

“such a sweet thing,” the dark-haired man coos, brushing the stray locks of hair away from your face with his index finger. his other hand rubs up and down your inner thigh, each time getting dangerously closer to your clit, though never getting a single touch in. the scarred corner of his lips twitch in an amused grin at your whines, “oh? want me to touch you there, princess? that what ya want?”

you nod without a second thought. you were trying your best to hold out for as long as your body allowed it — desperately wanting to reach your climax at the same time toji was going to — but the idea seems impossible the longer this continued.

your boyfriend grins smugly, raising his eyebrows before entirely removing his hands from your body. his arms rest behind his head as he reverts to simply enjoying the view of you riding him so well. toji can never not be mean to you. your little pouts only drive him to tease you more and more, “hm, well, ya see - i thought you were gonna spoil me today, not the other way around.”

“t-toji! tha's mean. . .” you huff, bottom lip trembling. your arms circle his neck and your upper body leans forward to rest against his chiseled chest. you stop your hip thrusts and instead grind against his pelvis, trying to stimulate your clit on your own.

toji clicks his tongue, but figured it was best to leave you be. he didn't want to be too rough on you today - you had been nothing but sweet to him the entire night. you had blessed him with his first, proper birthday experience as well.

“aww, my little girl ‘s pouting,” the older man snickers and his hands return to their place. he allows you to grind against him, the sensations being amazing for him as well. the tip of his cock almost reaches your cervix from the current angle and your bodily fluids smear all over his thighs and lower abdomen, “shh shh, ‘tis alright.”

your needy whines and moans are music to his ears. toji rubs your lower back and pats your ass every now and then, squeezing the soft flesh gently just to hear another whimper spill from your lips. there was no way you could hold back now. especially when your bodies were rubbing together and you could feel toji’s defined abs and hardened muscles underneath you.

“toji - nngh - can i? wan' — wanna cum.” your small hands tighten their grip around his broad shoulders. you earn a low, breathy chuckle from your lover. the increasing sensations in his lower stomach were an indication to how close he was to his orgasm as well. he wasn’t going to deny you any further.

toji sighs in content and presses a soft kiss to your temple, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. it was a rare occurence to see that vulnerable and affectionate look in his piercing green eyes. the little smile plastered on his face only added to the soft and intimate atmosphere.

. . . well, toji wouldn’t be toji if he wasn’t going to add catch you off guard in any way or form. your eyes widen and your body jolts forward as he suddenly starts putting work in—his hips ramming into yours from below, the skin-to-skin sounds resonating throughout the room once again. it was like the wind got knocked out of you for a good second, “fuck! w-wait, toji! tojitojitoji!”

the older man holds tightly onto you — cradling you in his arms as he lightly lifts your hips to have free reign over the pace and movements of your two bodies — thrusting up into you over and over. he lets out a series of small, silent groans as he feels his climax nearing;

“shit, yeah - ‘m gonna stuff this pussy of y’rs full, princess.” toji's callused fingers curl around your hip bones, using them as leverage to increase the intensity of his thrusts, “think you can take it all?”

you mewl and nod again and again. you’re on the brink of tears when the waves of pleasure reach their peak. your eyes roll back and your body convulses, legs shaking and squirming during those few seconds of pure bliss. your adorable babble in the form of toji’s name was all your lover needed to push him over the edge—

“fuck. ‘m gonna cum,” toji groans and firmly bites your shoulder to hold back any more noises when he finally decided to let go. a choked sob leaves your lips the instant you feel the hot spurts of cum seeping into your senstive cunt. the older man continues to thrust in and out sloppily, riding out his orgasm and fucking his cum deeper into you at the same time, “so good — i love you s’much.”

you smile exhaustedly at the love confession from your boyfriend. toji’s grip on you loosens up after he completely emptied his balls deep inside your cunt, his jaw finally unclenching. he plants a few wet kisses along the bite marks on your shoulder in attempt to soothe the pain.

you catch your breath as you rest on top of toji's body. he didn't put the slightest effort into pulling out of you — even as a tiny puddle of your mixed juices stains his skin.

“i love you too, toji,” you reply and earn another lazy kiss to your forehead. he rubs the back of your head and massages your plush thighs in a tender manner. nothing could make this moment even more perfect, you thought to yourself.

you smile as you pull your head back to look into toji’s eyes. he was already looking at you — admiring your gorgeous looks as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. you capture his lips in a delicate kiss, “happy birthday.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Jingle of The Bells

jake "hangman" seresin x reader

Summary: Your little girl is worried her father won’t make it home for Christmas.

Notes/warnings: this is the same family from the Oh, Baby universe, but it stands alone as well :) Mostly Fluff, a dash of angst.

This is for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge (my word is Bells)

Words: 2386

Your daughter was so much like your husband. You’d say too much if not for the fact that you loved them deeply. But there came a lot with their similarities. Double doses of determination, wit, and control. So, not unlike your husband, your little girl wanted to be the one to call the shots. However, circumstances didn’t always allow for that, and in those cases, Eve struggled the most.

---

“Mama, he’s supposed to be home!” 

Eve’s arms were wrapped tight around your neck as her wails echoed in your ear. You held on to her snuggly, her little legs tucked into the open space between your criss-crossed seated position on the floor. 

Until you’d joined her, she’d sat in the same spot all night, the teddy bear from her father settled in her lap as she stared at the front door. Despite the colored lights strung around your home, the pile of presents for her and her baby brother from Jake’s mother, grandmother, and team, and the cookies waiting to be decorated, Eve hadn’t moved. 

Every five minutes she would ask you the time, and each answer you gave her broke your heart right along with hers. She was too young to remember that Jake’s return schedule wasn’t always a guarantee. You were used to not making plans on the day you were originally told your husband would be coming home to you because promises in his line of work didn’t exist. There were no promises he would be gone only as long as he initially believed, no promises he would return on time, no promises he would return at all. But for so long Eve was spared all of that. The one time she remembered her father leaving, he did manage to come back when expected. She had never faced that disappointment. Until now. 

“Sweetie, it’s not Daddy’s fault,” you whispered. “I promise you he wants to be with us and that he’ll be home as soon as he can.”

“But it’s Christmas!”

Christmas Eve, actually, but to your daughter it was all the same. She had expectations. Cookie decorating, and milk pouring—a skill she’d asked Jake to help her perfect, not wanting to spill a drop for the reindeer. There was a letter she wanted to write to Santa, thanking him for bringing her Daddy home, which he had not, only adding to Eve’s bitterness. And it didn’t do her any good that before Jake left, she had also begged for a Christmas Eve pajama party where you all dressed in matching flannels, her baby brother included, and read a story before bed. 

Jake had done his best to promise those things to Eve, and in the same moment, with a single look at you, had silently communicated the very real possibility that none of it might happen. You knew it, expected it, and didn’t blame him for it, but it didn’t change that your little girl was in pain and her father wasn’t by her side to make it go away.

“I know. I know, Sweetie,” you said, gently rocking her back and forth. But your soothing could only be so effective, and for the night, she wouldn’t be able to take much more. “I think it’s time for bed now.”

“Why?” came out nasally, her crying having stuffed up her nose.

“Because you’ve been up for too long. You woke up hours earlier than you usually do and you didn’t take your nap today.”

She pulled her head back from the crook of your neck to look at you, and you wiped away the salty liquid from under her lashes. “But what about Daddy?”

“Daddy will be home soon. He’s just a little late, but that’s ok.”

“It is not.”

“It is, Sweetie,” you said, your own tears forming and beginning to blur your daughter’s face. “He’s trying so hard to be here, and that’s what matters.” When one of them fell, Eve’s finger rose to meet the droplet as it slowed its descent down your cheek. You grabbed her hand and rubbed the tear off her fingertip. “Come on, let’s go lay down.”

This time, with exhaustion setting in, she didn’t fight you, but she did wiggle from your hold to stand up on her own. Then she used the last of her energy to rush over to the coffee table where the small set of jingle bells she’d been dangling in front of her brother’s face to elicit his giggles was lying. Jake had bought her those bells last Christmas and immediately regretted bringing such incessant jingling into his home. 

Swallowing back your remaining tears, you watched as Eve wrapped her fingers around the velvet cord that kept the bells in a bunch before making her way into the hall and draping the cord over the knob of the front door. 

You nodded and stood. Her tears were not quite dried, and you knew she was desperate to keep her eyes on that door, but she still took your hand when you reached out for her. 

“I’ll tell you if I hear them,” you said before lifting her in your arms to carry her up to her room. 

---

In her weakened fight against sleep, Eve failed. When you finally had her tucked in her bed, passed out and releasing soft snores, you returned to the living room where you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. 

You did your best not to fall apart in front of your daughter, but Jake being gone ripped you to pieces as much as it did her. It didn’t help that his return was no less anxiety-inducing than his departure. The occasional unpredictability allowed your mind to wander to undesirable scenarios that, at this point, you knew weren’t likely, but the thought of them still terrified you. 

Jake was fine, though. You believed it, knew it. He was safe. The next person to open that door would be him, it was just a matter of when, and hoping it would be before the holiday was over. 

---

The clock had reached midnight only a handful of minutes before your eyelids grew heavy and begged to close. You fought sleep but, much like your daughter, reached your limit and succumbed. The consistent crackling of the fire combined with the warmth of the blanket lulled you slowly but effectively. It was too quiet and peaceful to resist, until a jingle clanged against another jingle which together thumped against something thick and solid. 

Your body jolted as you heard a muttered “Why so damn loud?”

“Jake?” you called, tossing the blanket aside and running toward the door. He barely had his duffle on the floor and his key out of the lock when you slammed into him. 

His arms were around you in an instant, slightly lifting you off the ground as his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. “God, you feel good,” was muffled in his deep voice, vibrating against your skin. His arms tightened. “So good.”

Your feet met the floor again, and with your hands on his cheeks, you guided his head back so you could press your lips to his. Your moan greeted his. Then you sighed into the kiss and melted further into his hold. No matter how many times you said goodbye, you were always relieved to find him the same as when he left. The feel of him, the taste of him, the chills you got when his hands wove into your hair—he never returned as anyone other than your Jake. 

He gave you two more pecks, then one final long kiss before he broke it to breathe, allowing his forehead to rest against yours while his chest expanded and deflated and expanded again to take in the air you’d stolen. “I missed you, Honey.”

A tear forged a cold trail down the flush of your cheek and slipped into the seam of your lips. “I missed you, too.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes. “How are the kids?”

“Needing you,” you said as he wiped away the wet river from your skin. “Eve thought you weren’t going to make it home in time.”

Knowing your husband, it took only the barest of shifts in his stance, his brow, his eyes, for you to see his heart was breaking right along with Eve’s. He turned his head toward the staircase that led to the bedrooms of your home, his daughter’s in particular.

Inching up on your toes, you softly kissed the line of his jaw and, somehow, for the first time, noticed he had a little bit of stubble. His last day or two must have been exhausting if he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave. Likely, everyone was in such a rush to get home to their families that some basic rules went out the window. Your kiss traveled up to his cheek. 

“It’s ok, baby,” you whispered. “You’re with us now.”

“Did she cry?”

“She’ll forget all about it when she sees your face.”

Jake lightly hummed, unsatisfied with the state he’d forced upon his daughter. Without letting another beat pass, he took your hand, led you to your daughter's room, and eased her door open. 

The glow emitting from Eve’s new plane nightlight—an early Christmas gift the Daggers had sent from overseas—highlighted her sleeping face, and her delicate features were so peaceful you’d never have known she was devastated a few hours prior.

When you had let her open the gift from the team, you of course told her who it was from right away with a huge smile splitting your face. She was so excited as she pulled at the bow and shredded the paper that she laughed louder than you had heard in quite some time. Her eyes went wide and she hopped up on her feet to fly the plane around the room. She giddily showed her infant brother—who received his own nightlight in the form of a train so the gifts would be unique to each child—before she plopped down on the carpet in your living room to examine every detail of the elaborately designed light. 

And then she began to sob. 

She sobbed for missing her daddy and aunts and uncles; for missing the many times Jake had taken his family to see the planes he flew, which closely matched the shape of Eve’s gift. She sobbed until you took her upstairs for bed, helped her plug in the light, and told her a story of her daddy seeing that plane and that train and immediately thinking of his baby girl and little boy. 

That was only three weeks ago, and Eve’s angst had grown with the passing days. But the little light helped her rest at night as long as she completed her ritual of crouching down in front of the radiating glow and whispering a soft “goodnight Daddy” before settling into bed. 

It did help for a while, but it didn’t cease the daily return of her tears. And this night, fairly so, was by far the worst. Her disappointment made the light its least effective since she’d received it. 

Jake stepped into the room and took a seat at the edge of her bed. “I shouldn’t wake her,” he said as he brushed a blonde curl out of her face. From that light touch, Eve stirred, but then she stilled again, releasing a soft breath.

Your husband sighed right along with her. You knew how badly he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. He needed that. He could see her in front of him, and from those inhales and exhales, could hear her, and he could feel the soft curls of her hair, but nothing compared to feeling her little heartbeat beating against his, or hearing her sweet voice, or seeing her bright smile. That he’d have to wait for morning to truly greet his daughter after months away was an ache you would never know. Yes, you ached for him when he was gone, and you knew he did for you, but it just wasn’t the same. This was his child, a piece of him that he’d gone without for so long. It was a powerless feeling. She was right there, but being the father he was, Jake wouldn’t disturb her for his own sake. 

Carefully, Jake leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Would you like to go see our son?” Another one of his children that he’d undoubtedly refuse to disturb, no matter how much he wanted to see the little pair of eyes that matched yours staring up at him. 

Jake nodded, gently squeezing Eve’s tiny hand. He was about to stand when you both heard a soft, “Daddy?”

Your heads whipped in Eve’s direction to find her fists rubbing at her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as her vision adjusted to the darkness, but when she saw the darkened figure sitting by her side, Eve didn’t second guess herself. She kicked at her covers and leapt across the bed with the speed and agility of a bunny rabbit. 

“Daddy!” 

Jake chuckled as he caught her. “Hi, baby girl.”

Little hands reached up to his face to verify his realness. They ran up and down the scruff she’d rarely ever seen, making Jake’s cheeks contort in funny shapes, and then she grinned. “You came home.”

You couldn’t see all of Jake’s face, but you heard his sniffle as he tugged your daughter closer to his chest. “Of course, I did.”

“Mama said you would.”

“Well, Mama’s usually right, isn’t she?” he said, turning to look at you and confirming the redness that was brightening the green of his irises. He winked before returning his attention to his daughter.

Eve nodded vigorously then threw her arms around his neck, squeezing with all of her might. “I like Santa again.”

“When didn’t you like Santa?” Jake asked as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

Eve pulled back. Her smile was still in place as she patted the tops of his shoulders with both hands. “Today," she said. "But you are home so he’s ok.”

---

A/N: so i have another christmas challenge fic coming that is Rooster x reader, which is my very first Rooster fic so hopefully I do alright. Then my focus will be on The One I Want and some Thorn (Expendables 3) fics :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab91 @rosedurin @novagreen04 @memeorydotcom @purplevortexx @sgt-barnesveins @books-are-escapes

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: In a world where everybody has a superpower, Roier doesn't seem to have one

For day five of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week- Superheroes/Blood

-

Cellbit's dreams are always dark. They start with him in his childhood bedroom, and then they move him down to the kitchen his parents died in, and then they end with him under the bridge. The sounds are muffled, but he can still understand what's being said, and it's always: "It's your fault."

Because it is.

He's had the same dreams since the night his parents died.

Every.

Goddamn.

Night.

But, well. He deserves it. The darkness surrounding the edges of his dream blurs out the unimportant details, like the face of the little girl who was sitting at the kitchen table when Cellbit's parents died, or the view outside of his bedroom window.

But the darkness hides something else- and this is a recent development, and he really doesn't understand it. Because, just out of view, is a figure in all black with eyes that glow white and claws that tear through Cellbit's dreams like they're paper.

He doesn't know who, or what, this thing is, but he does know a few things about it:

The creature destroys Cellbit's nightmares, sending his subconscious tumbling into a much happier dream- one that he can never remember when he wakes up

The creature tries to talk to him every time, but the fangs in its mouth are so large that it just can't

The creature seems to grow taller and stronger with every nightmare it destroys.

The creature is scared of Cellbit's husband

Now, yeah, sure, the creature can't talk, but Cellbit doesn't need to hear someone speak to know what they're afraid of. That's his superpower: fear. He can look at someone and hear what they're scared of, and he can make them scared, and it's horrible and he's a monster and he deserves to-

Cellbit gasps his way into full consciousness. He stares at the ceiling, chest heaving, brain loud and annoying and and and and-

"Gatinho?" Roier murmurs, curled up by Cellbit's side with his head pillowed on Cellbit's chest. He wraps an arm around Cellbit's middle and squirms closer, somehow, he's so clingy.

"Está bem," Cellbit breaths. "Just... just thinking."

"Well, don't," Roier grumbles. "Your brain is loud. Sleep, pendejo."

As if on command, Cellbit's eyelids droop. Roier always has this effect on him; he's just so comforting. He's a living, breathing weighted blanket, and Cellbit loves him so fucking much.

Soon enough, he's asleep again, and he's face-to-face with the creature again.

The creature tries to speak, but no noise comes out.

It flexes its claws as Dream Cellbit starts the walk downstairs to the kitchen.

The dream is shredded, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-

-

Roier and Cellbit have been married for almost one whole entire wonderful year. He's known Roier for one and a half years, and he's been out of prison for two years.

Roier knows about the creature in Cellbit's dreams, even if Cellbit hasn't told him what his dreams actually are. Roier's been trying to come up with a name for it for months now, but Cellbit doesn't really know what to think of that considering the creature is literally invading his brain every night.

"It's kind of sweet, though, right?" Roier asks.

Cellbit wrinkles his nose and jabs his chopsticks down into his rice.

Dinner tonight is Chinese takeout because Roier's tired from work and Cellbit is tired from existing. It's good, but kind of bland. Since they changed ownership and ended up under the Federation of Heroes' official branding, the food has gone downhill. Yet another thing that Cucurucho has ruined, ugh.

"I mean, maybe?" Cellbit replies. "It's kind of freaky."

"I don't know, it kind of sounds cute."

Cellbit gives Roier a flat look; Roier just grins and steals some chicken from his plate.

"It's destroying my dreams," Cellbit says. "That doesn't sound 'cute' to me."

"Yeah, but doesn't it give you different dreams?" Roier asks. "I think it's trying to help."

"Yeah, or it's trying to kill me."

Roier's shoulders tighten. "Do you think so?"

It's always hard to pick up Roier's fears, but Cellbit can often just guess them even without using his powers. Like, he knows that Roier is just scared enough of bears to refuse to go camping anywhere without a cabin for him to stay him. He and Cellbit are both terrified of losing each other, and they're even more scared of losing their kids.

God, Cellbit is so stupid. He doesn't need to be worrying Roier with this, he already freaks out enough when Cellbit ends up caught in the middle of one of the Federation's hero fights due to his abysmally terrible luck.

His face falls. He places his chopsticks down and reaches across the table and takes Roier's hand in his.

"It'll be fine," he tells Roier. "If it tries to kill me, I'll just... wake up."

"If it tries to kill you, I'll kick its ass," Roier swears.

He squeezes Cellbit's hand once and offers a lackluster smile.

Cellbit's heart twists in his chest. Oh, Roier...

-

The night's dream starts as usual:

Cellbit opens his eyes to find himself in his childhood bedroom in his childhood body. There aren't any bloodstains on his clothes yet, though that'll change soon enough.

He tries looking out the window, but that isn't what he did that night, so anything beyond the window is covered by the darkness.

There's a growl, and then the creature forms in the shadows near Cellbit's bed. (There are always two beds in his room, but why?)

"What do you want?" Cellbit tries to ask, but that isn't what he did that night.

Instead, and in a squeaky childish voice, he groans and shouts, "This sucks! I can't figure it out!"

He's at his desk. In front of him are multiplication tables he's supposed to be doing for homework, and they're easy enough that Adult Cellbit could do them now, but that isn't what happened that night. So the problems look like random lines and squiggles, and Cellbit's chest hurts, and he can't breathe, and-

"I can't do this!" he shouts, jumping off of his chair and pulling his homework with him. "Mãe!"

He reaches his door, has his hand on the handle, and then... there's the creature by his side shredding the door into pieces with its claws.

Cellbit blinks, and he's an adult again, and he's in a different dream, and he turns to the side and he's face-to-face with-

-

Roier is one of the few people Cellbit has ever heard of that doesn't have a superpower. He seems happy enough without one, but... but Cellbit thinks that he's lying. He isn't angry that Roier is lying, though. No, he understands, because he himself lied about not having powers until they'd been dating for six months.

In the back of his mind, Cellbit has a few ideas of what Roier's secret superpower could be. The only one he says out loud is, "I know what your power is. You're super handsome!"

But, in order, it goes:

Extreme endurance (evidence: goes for long runs every morning and ends up back in bed sweating and tired by the time Cellbit wakes up)

Can always cook the perfect meal (evidence: he's just really good at cooking)

Comfort aura (evidence: Cellbit always feels happy and cozy and safe when Roier is around)

Super strength (evidence: he's really strong)

But, well. None of those quite work, mostly because the majority of them are just early excuses for thinking Roier was attractive back before they started dating.

Tonight as Cellbit brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed, he thinks up a new idea:

Vocal projection (evidence: he's loud as fuck when he's singing in the shower)

Because, yes, Roier is, indeed, in the shower, and he's singing very loudly. But, really, Cellbit wouldn't have him any other way. He's perfect.

"Hey, guapito," Cellbit says after rinsing his mouth out. "I need your help with something?"

Roier cuts his song off with an irritated groan. "Now? I was almost to the chorus!"

"Desculpe. But you're better at naming things than I am, and I need help coming up with something to call the creature in my dream diary."

"You have a dream diary?"

"I'm starting it tonight. I'm going to figure this thing out."

"That's cute!"

Cellbit can see Roier's silhouette shaking with silent laughter through the shower curtain. Wordlessly, he opens the curtain so he can take the shower head down and spray Roier with it.

"It's serious," Cellbit says, ignoring Roier's screeching protests. "I think it's messing with my head."

"Put that down- vete a la verga, fuck!"

Roier bats at Cellbit's hands until Cellbit lowers the shower head.

And then Roier yanks the shower head away from him and sprays him with it.

"Pendejo!" Cellbit shouts. (Not the best swear word, but it's all he could come up with on such short notice.)

He skitters away from the shower and looks, horrified, down at his soaking wet pajamas.

"Whoops," Roier plainly says. "Guess you'll just have to sleep naked tonight."

He grins, and Cellbit hates him. He wants to kiss him soooo badly!

So he does, and it's nice.

A few minutes later as they crawl into bed, Roier says, "Hey. I have a name for your monster."

Cellbit looks at him. "Yeah?"

"Call it Venom. It's, like, dissolving your dreams, right? Like poison?"

Brain poison, hmm.

Cellbit grabs his brand new dream journal off of his bedside table and opens it. Right on the first page is a long, detailed description of his dream. Right below it is a description of the creature as well as a really messy drawing.

'Venom', he writes.

...What a specific descriptoin. "Dissolving your dreams", not quite how Cellbit has been describing it.

He glances at Roier out of the corner of his eye.

Hm.

-

The first part of the dream goes normally.

And then Cellbit is downstairs at the kitchen table with his parents. There's also a girl there, but Cellbit hadn't looked at her face that night, so she doesn't have one now.

"I can't do it," Cellbit whines. He balls his hands into fists and fights the urge to smash his own face into the table.

"You can," his father insists. "You're a smart kid! Why don't we take a break."

He gets up from the table and goes to cut some watermelon.

Cellbit knows what's about to happen next. But he can't close his eyes, because his eyes were open that night.

"Let's try one more time, okay?" his mother asks.

He sniffles and nods.

He looks down at the problems. He can't understand him, he's so stupid. He's so stupid! Why can't he be like [her]?! She's good at math. She's even finished her homework.

His vision starts to blur. He can't see. He can't- he can't breathe oh fuck he can't breathe why can't he breathe what why can't he

A scream.

He looks up and watches his father finish plunging his watermelon-cutting knife into his own stomach.

"Pai!?" the girl screeches.

"I can't do it," Cellbit's mother whispers. "I'm a failure. I can't do it."

She wrestles Cellbit's pencil from his hand and raises it to her eye and-

Cellbit gasps as a clawed hand rips the table into pieces in front of him.

As the dream shifts and as his body turns back into his own, he's pulled by the creature- by Venom- into a loose hug. Its claws dig into his back, but they don't hurt.

He looks up, and he finds himself face-to-face with-

-

Roier was the first person that Cellbit let himself get attached to after he was released from prison.

He'd met Roier by pure chance, and it was love at first sight. He was just so... and he's still so...

"Does this dress make my ass look big?" Roier asks, posing in front of Cellbit in a way that most people would probably call sexy.

...perfect.

They'd met at their mutual friend, Maxo's, club. Roier wasn't on the pole that night, he was instead working the bar, and he and Cellbit hit it off immediately.

The next time Cellbit had been gone, Roier wasn't there, but his 'cousin' was. Melissa, according to Roier, owns half of the club.

And then, seven months later while rummaging through Roier's closet looking for a hoodie to steal, Cellbit had seen one of Melissa's dresses, and, well. Cellbit isn't stupid, okay? But he hadn't said anything because he didn't want to break Roier's trust, and he lives by that idea even now almost two years after their marriage.

If Roier wants to tell him something, he will. It isn't Cellbit's place to push.

Cellbit checks out Roier's ass appreciatively.

"Everything you wear makes your butt look big," he replies.

Roier nods and smiles, more than content with that answer, and he goes to the other side of his dressing room to start putting his makeup on.

Cellbit tries to make it to every one of "Melissa's" shows. He's a good husband, he wants to support Roier in everything he does.

...And he can't sleep anymore unless he has Roier by his side. Does that make him clingy?

He yawns, anyway, and he leans back and slumps in his chair. He might move to the dressing room's sofa, he's exhausted. (He might not be able to sleep without Roier, but he can rest his eyes, at least.)

"Is it okay if I stay back here?" he asks. "I need to lay down."

Roier glances at him through his mirror, concern lining his face. "Are you okay?"

Cellbit waves his concerns aside. "I'm just a little tired. I don't think I'm going to fall asleep, but I don't want to accidentally pass out during your show. That would be bad for business."

Roier's eyebrows furrow, just slightly. "Are you sure?"

"I mean, if it's okay-"

"No!" Roier cuts him off so quickly that he even seems to surprise himself. "I mean. It's okay, but you might not be comfortable. I can try and find you a pillow?"

His voice is shaking, just slightly. Hm.

"Nah, I'm good," Cellbit replies. He shrugs his jacket off and balls it up in his arms. "I've slept in worse places before."

"If- if you're sure, then go ahead."

Something feels... off. Maybe it's just because Cellbit is tired, but something is just. Weird.

But Roier eventually leaves the dressing room, though not without giving Cellbit a big fat messy lipstick-covered kiss on the lips.

Cellbit moves to the sofa, and he pillows his head on his jacket, and he closes his eyes, and he... he falls asleep. Just barely, because his dream is a faded memory around him, but. But.

But Venom isn't there.

-

The third stage of the dream is the coldest. It gnaws at Cellbit's brain, because it was the middle of January when his parents died. He was alone and under the bridge and covered in blood and absolutely freezing.

The dream doesn't ever go on past the bridge. He always just sits there shivering until he wakes up unless Venom shows up.

So he sits, and he shivers, and he waits to wake up. His body is crying, and the tears are freezing to his cheeks. He can't breathe. He can't stop thinking of... of... fuck, who is that girl? The one who chased Cellbit out of the house. The one with no face but the same voice as him.

A police car speeds over the bridge above him. It's going to his house, he knows this. The morning after the bridge, he snuck back towards his house, and the police car was still there. So was the girl. So were his parents bodies, wrapped in sheets and being carried to a Federation-white van.

He's a mistake. [She] was always better than him. [She] never hurt anybody. It isn't fair!

He sobs and buries his face in his knees. He won't sleep tonight, Cellbit remembers staying up all night because he couldn't close his eyes without seeing his parents die in front of him, and he still can't close his eyes without seeing it.

"I'm a monster," he whimpers, the first time he'd ever spoken those words, but not the last. (Later, he would try to embrace them and become the monster the media labeled him as, but it didn't help.)

There's a snarl above him, and then there's Venom standing above him with its fangs bared.

"I-" Cellbit chokes, forced to repeat what he'd said all those years ago. "I need to turn myself in. I have to!"

He stands. Venom moves to block him, grabbing onto his shoulders and holding him in place.

"There have to be healer heroes," Cellbit reasons. "They can fix them."

(They can't, and they won't.)

If possible, Venom looks distraught. The darkness wavers around it, and that's when Cellbit realizes that this is the closest they've really gotten to each other. This close, he can almost make out a face hidden behind Venom's teeth, buried deep within its mouth. But it's too dark, but if he looks hard enough...

Venom steps back, and he tears the bridge apart, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-

-

Roier is cooking dinner tonight, and it smells wonderful. Of course it does, Roier's the one cooking it. Everything he cooks is wonderful, because he's wonderful.

Cellbit sits at the table watching. The kids are all in the other room doing homework, and it's almost peaceful.

Roier slips with the spatula and drops it into the pan. He swears and scoops it out and swears again as the oil inside burns him.

Again, almost peaceful.

Cellbit swiftly stands from his chair and goes to help Roier.

"Here, let me-"

Roier lightly smacks his hand. "Não, não. Go away."

"Mmm, what if I wanna stay with you?"

He slips an arm around Roier's waist and snuggles up against his back. He rests his chin on Roier's shoulder and watches a beautiful smile spread across Roier's face.

"I guess it's fine," Roier sighs, playing up the theatrics. "I guess."

And then it's peaceful once more. Cellbit watches Roier cook, and he pays special attention to Roier's biceps. (Sue him, his husband is hot.)

But then, in the other room, Richarlyson starts shouting:

"This is stupid!"

"Calm down," Bobby drawls. "It's just multiplication, let me see-"

"No, I can do it!"

Cellbit tenses. Roier doesn't seem to notice, and that's fine. It's nothing for either of them to worry about.

"You've literally been working on that for hours," Bobby argues. "Let me see."

"Não!"

Quietly, Pepito pipes up with, "I wanna see!"

"No!" Richarlyson yells. "I can- I can do it!"

"Let me see," Pepito pleads.

(Cellbit can't see.)

"Fuck you, give me the homework," Bobby snaps.

"Fuck you, it's mine!" Richarlyson exclaims.

(Cellbit can't breathe.)

"You literally can't even do it," Bobby mocks. "Give it."

(Cellbit can't-)

The world dissolves around him, and all he can see is his father's body sprawled across the floor and his mother across from him still muttering about how useless she is as he still muttered about how useless he is and he's both 26 years old and eight and he can't breathe and and and and and-

"Cellbit!" he hears. Two warm, gentle hands settle on his cheeks, and he blinks, and he's in his own kitchen. With his husband. Crying.

"It's fine," Roier whispers. He presses his forehead against Cellbit's, eyes slipping shut. "It isn't going to happen again. You're fine. They're fine. It's fine."

Cellbit blinks. The kitchen sounds miles and miles away, but he still heard that, and he knows for certain that he not once has told anybody about the night he killed his parents.

He swallows, fresh tears stinging at his eyes. "What isn't going to happen again?"

Roier tenses, but he doesn't move. His eyes squeeze even further shut, but he doesn't move. His mouth narrows into a pencil-thin line, but he doesn't move.

Cellbit can barely feel his hands, but he still moves his arms to hold Roier around the middle. The kids are still fighting in the background, but... but he can't handle them right now.

In a minute.

"Do we have to talk about it?" Roier hesitantly asks.

Cellbit's answer is immediate: "No. Just... sorry. I'm sorry."

Roier's brow furrows. "'Sorry'? Sorry for what, eh?"

"You shouldn't have to see all... all that. I don't even want to talk about it, but-"

"No, shut up. I'm sorry for sneaking into your dreams every night. It kinda just happens, I don't control it, but... it happened, and you were so sad, and I wanted to help."

Cellbit smiles faintly. His own eyes slip shut, and he can almost not see the bodies this time.

"You do help," he responds. "You help more than you could ever imagine, even outside of the dreams."

He tips his head up to kiss Roier, soft and brief and gentle.

Against Cellbit's lips, Roier mutters, "I can stop."

Cellbit shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Now that I know it's you, I can stop freaking out about a buff scary monster guy haunting me."

Roier huffs out a quiet laugh. "I can try and be less scary, but I don't control that, either."

"It's still you. Just... God, does this make me a monsterfucker?"

Roier's laugh is much louder this time. He bites Cellbit's bottom lip before pulling back.

Cellbit's eyes open, and he looks into Roier's, and he can see the love in them, and he can feel the love in his own.

God-damn, how did he get this lucky?

"Who are you calling a monster?" Roier demands. He pinches Cellbit's side and turns back to the stove. "Fuck you, sleep alone tonight. I don't even care."

Cellbit smiles and invades his husband's space once more. He hooks his chin over Roier's shoulder, and he sighs against Roier's cheek.

"Te amo," he says. He presses a chaste kiss to the side of Roier's jaw.

Roier's ears turn red, but his face betrays no emotion.

"Your breath smells," he says, a smile teasing at his own lips. "Go brush your teeth before we eat."

Cellbit rolls his eyes, but he leaves to go do as he's told if only to try and finish panicking on his own and try and calm down before dinner.

He passes through the living room, and he sees Bobby at the table helping Richarlyson with his homework.

Some things do change, after all.

[atiny-piratequeen]

Doᥴtor's Assιstᥲᥒt

Summary: The Doctor needs an extra hand perfecting a new aphrodisiac.

...Well, you wont be using your hands, but that's besides the point

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: Fem!Reader x Geb(Yunho)

𓆩⟡𓆪Genres/Aus: Against the Tide Verse (its an Au in an AU-), Non Idolverse, Smut

𓆩⟡𓆪Tws: Swearing

𓆩⟡𓆪Sws: (Everything is Safe, Sane, and Consensual), Consentacle Tentacles (Vines), Bondage, Fingering, Consensual Sexual Experimentation, Aphrodisiac Use, Fingering, Objectification

𓆩⟡𓆪Rating: Explicit/Mature (18+)

𓆩⟡𓆪WC: 800+

𓆩⟡𓆪A/n: For any of my non AtTiny who want to know who Geb is and how he’s tied to Yunho…idk maybe read a bombastic in progress work of art that explains it all cough cough.

This was a popcorn commission from the lovely @atiny-dazzlinglight that I finished a bit ago but life happened and I didn’t post it till now. Sorry for the hold up and I hope you and all my AtTiny can enjoy~

𓆩⟡𓆪AO3| Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪Network Ping- @kwritersworld| @k-vanity | @cultofdionysusnet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪©atiny-piratequeen. do not repost, translate, or use my works𓆩⟡𓆪

���･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･

“F-fuck, oh my God-”

“My, that’s an interesting reaction.” 

Had it had been any other day, you might have been able to conjure up a bratty response. Instead, you look up through the tears blurring your vision, lips quivering as you angle your head up for a kiss. 

“I see the purple one has a stronger effect on you than the red one from earlier did. Poor thing, you look like you’ll melt right out of my lap if I weren’t holding onto you.” Geb mused, his vines writhing along your skin, pulling and tugging you close to his chest as he angled his head down. 

You whimper, a sliver of pink slipping past your parted lips as you lick at his own, successfully enticing him to kiss you. 

“More.” You beg as large hands find their home on your waist, caressing and mapping out every curve, tracing every stretch mark, all while stunning ice-colored eyes remain fixed on your face. 

“I wonder what would happen if we mixed them. The warmth of the Flame Lily mixing with the stimulant enhancement in the Clivia-”He went off mumbling under his breath, humming as he wrapped his arms around you, idly rubbing your clit in circles as he talked himself through formulas for more nectar combinations. 

He was off in his own world, truly and completely, and it made goosebumps rise on your skin to both be doted on, and spoiled, but also to feel like you were just another object in the room as the good doctor‘s fingers pinched and rolled your clit idly. 

“Please-”

“Mm, maybe if I increase the dose by a few grams, it’ll last a bit longer, I don’t like how easily the other dose wore off.” He mused, resting his chin on your shoulder. You squirm, clenching on nothing, legs twitching in his vines. He didn’t say a word to you, muttering in English and another language you didn’t understand, sorting through his thoughts. 

You open your mouth to whine again, but a gasp of surprise tumbles through instead. His hand had worked its way lower as he distracted himself-and apparently you-with his mutters. Warm, slightly calloused fingers curl over your thigh, massaging for a moment, before working between your lower lips. 

You jolt the moment he touches you. It seemed the purple concoction he’d given you minutes ago had left you much more sensitive than you’d expected. 

The vines twitch and contrast around you, tightening and keeping your legs spread as those long fingers push into you, and you’re flustered by the way his attention snapped into focus at the whorish moan the action drew from your lips. 

“O h~ It seems like I found the perfect mix, did I?” He purred, kissing up the base of your neck and smiling as he worked those fingers in and out of you, scissoring them apart as you arch your back. 

You’re almost embarrassed at how wet you are, arching your back and gasping pathetically as he curled his fingers up. 

“My, this is wonderful news. I believe I’ve found the perfect balance for this.” His voice rumbles through your head, and it's now that you realize his fingers were coated in the aphrodisiac he’d been muttering out. You shakily glance down, cheeks flushed as the pretty liquid falls to the floor at his feet as you remain held up by the vines, joining droplets of your essence onto the floor. 

Your eyes flutter as you clench around his fingers. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he alternated between thrusting his fingers in with deep, near methodical motions, curling and searching for that delightful spot, and quick, off-beat thrusts. 

“Geb~ G-geb fuck, yes yes yes nn-” its now you realize you’re drooling, your arms being pulled behind your back by his vines as a slow, deceptively calm smile stretched across his face. 

“You can make a mess. We’re only just getting started.” He promised, kissing you and pushing more of the sweet-tasting nectar onto your tongue through it. You feel your body jerk and tighten, kissing him sloppily as you make a mess of his fingers, hand, and the floor. 

His eyes slowly drift down to the puddle that’s left behind before he ran his hand over the top of your head, kissing the tears that had fallen from the corner of your eye away. 

“Are you still alright, my love?” He rumbled, his gentle voice bouncing around in your head. You nod, body buzzing in delight as you look at him, whining in offense when he pulled those long fingers out of you. 

“No-”

“-ah ah.” He quiets you, holding your gaze as he ran his tongue over the mixture of nectar and cum on his fingers. 

“Like I said. We’re only j u s t getting started. Catch your breath. I still have many more to try with you.”

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　Tag List　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･

@kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @angel0taiyo @jacksons-goddess-gaia @gettin-a-lil-hanse @yunhofingers @seomisaho @ateezwonderland @smallfrye @spooo00oky @shymexican @stardragongalaxy @horizonmoonfics @delphinium3000 @xuxibelle @twistedsiren @soluvcore @dreamyinception-world @justatiredhuman @serialee @yungiland @shingisimp @drunk-on-hwa @perfectlysane24 @asyamonet22 @bangteezbaby @universe-sighted @skmoonchild @babiebumm @jess-1404 @violetwinters @xlilehx @ateezswonderland

[agoldengalaxy]

Goodnight, Moon

read on Ao3

words: 2976

“Where…am I?” Ford’s breath caught in his throat. It was exactly as he had expected, then. Fiddleford had warned him that this might happen; temporary lapses in memory, an unfortunate long-term effect of the memory gun. “Don’t worry, Stanford,” he had said the last time they spoke. “He’s not alone. He’s got you ta’ help him remember.”

--

A still, calm ocean met the dark sky on the horizon, littered with stars that reflected in the water below. If Ford took off his glasses, it was easy to blur the line between the two completely, like perhaps they were sailing along a star-studded sky instead, with a mission to land on the moon itself.

Ford almost scoffed at his own thoughts as he stood on the deck of the Stan o’ War II, his elbows against the railing. This wasn’t a thought an accomplished man with twelve PhDs would have. It reminded him of storybooks he used to have as a young child, the storybooks Stan and his mother liked to listen to him read aloud every Friday night.

Then again, he thought, smiling a little to himself as he removed his glasses, watching the sprawling blue in front of him blur into one big mess, his PhDs weren’t really his focal point anymore. And, perhaps, it wasn’t so terrible to think like a child again. With Stan by his side, it was hard not to feel like they were still ten years old, declaring themselves the Kings of New Jersey and sailing along the water. The only difference now was that they were actually fighting real monsters, not the ones they made up in their heads.

Ford placed the glasses back on his nose, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing here, but the late night chill was relentless. Despite the fact that he would have liked to stand out here and stargaze for hours, he released a small sigh and turned around, stepping quietly back into their cabin.

The door slid shut with a soft click behind him, and he glanced toward the small living area, a fond smile easing its way onto his lips. Stan was asleep, a mess of limbs too long to fit on that old couch, more or less covered by a small knit blanket, his snoring quiet and steady. He’d fallen asleep watching Cash Wheel, and Ford had made sure the blanket was at least over his torso and the TV had been turned off before stepping out for some fresh air.

A month after Weirdmaggedon, and it was still quite a relief to see his brother. Ford often found himself thinking things were too good to be true, that he didn’t deserve Stan’s loyalty after everything that had happened, that maybe one day he’d wake up and Stan would be gone.

He sighed softly, still smiling a little to himself. The thoughts were unfounded, as silly as the childish thoughts he had earlier. Stan wouldn’t leave, because that just wasn't who Stan was.

After one last look, Ford moved toward the kitchen, intent on getting some water before turning in for the night, himself. It was certainly still a strange feeling, he thought, as he watched the faucet fill the glass steadily. To be able to sleep whenever he wanted, without fear of being hurt, or fear of hurting others. He grimaced at the memory of waking up on the roof of his house with blood pooling from his right eye, or from the countless sleepless nights he spent on the run from interdimensional beings intent on his destruction.

He turned off the tap and picked up the glass. The past was the past.

He’d almost been too deep in his thoughts to notice that the snoring had stopped in the other room, or to hear quiet, unintelligible swear words. Suddenly, Ford’s bad memories disappeared. He took his undrunk glass and stepped out of the kitchen. “I told you that your neck would end up quite sore if you -”

Almost unable to control it, Ford froze in place, his unfinished sentence hanging in the air. Alarm bells in his mind screamed at him as he looked at Stan, standing rigidly in the middle of the room. His eyes were wide, staring back at Ford like a deer caught in headlights, and it was so unlike Stan that it sent a shiver down Ford’s back.

What really scared him was that this exact expression reminded him of that day, back in the woods.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, seemingly unsure of who would speak first. Ford knew it should be him, he knew he had to ask, but it suddenly felt impossible, like he’d somehow swallowed his own tongue and hadn’t realized it. The silence seemed to stretch out for eternity, until Stan balled up his fists at his sides nervously.

“Where…am I?”

Ford’s breath caught in his throat. It was exactly as he had expected, then. Fiddleford had warned him that this might happen; temporary lapses in memory, an unfortunate long-term effect of the memory gun. Don’t worry, Stanford, he had said the last time they spoke. He’s not alone. He’s got you ta’ help him remember.

A part of him wanted to cry, another part of him wanted to scream and throw his glass at the wall. Instead, he knew he had to be there for him above all else. He cleared his throat, placing the glass down on the counter, and took a step closer. “You’re on the Stan o’ War II,” he answered as calmly as he could through a trembling voice. “Do you remember who you are? Do you…remember who I am?”

Panic flashed along Stan’s face, and it took every fiber of Ford’s being to stay infinitely still, to be the calm in the storm. Panicking along with him wouldn’t solve anything, despite the fact that it felt like his chest might cave in on itself.

Suddenly, Stan blinked, his eyes shining in the dim light. “You’re…my brother,” he managed, his voice strange and rough, like he didn’t even recognize it. He cleared his throat. “I don’t, um…I don't remember anything else.”

Ford forced air through his lungs, nodding quietly. It was temporary. He just had to be there for him, like Fiddleford said he should. The fact that he remembered that much, at least, had to be a good sign. “That’s right. I am your brother.” He took another step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, gentle enough that he could pull away if he wanted to - but instead, he leaned into it. “My name is Stanford, and…you are Stanley.”

“Stanford…” he repeated, drawing out the name like he was trying to hear how it sounded in his own voice. “Wait, we’re both -”

“Yes,” Ford huffed a laugh at the absurdity of hearing the reaction they got whenever they introduced themselves to someone new, from Stan himself. “Our parents weren’t very creative.”

“Yeah, seems like it.” They stood there for a moment, and Stan shifted his weight uncomfortably. “So…uh…what’s this Stan o’ War II? Some sorta secret base or somethin’?”

Despite the situation, Ford smiled. It was still so much like Stan it almost hurt. Gently, he began guiding him toward the door to the cabin. “Come, I’ll show you.”

The door swung open, and they both stepped out onto the deck, the late night breeze immediately ruffling their clothes and hair, the darkness all-encompassing. Starlight reflected in Stan’s eyes as he stepped forward in some disbelief, looking out at the sprawling ocean.

“Heh. The stars look…real bright in the water,” Stan murmured, and Ford couldn’t help but wonder if the amnesia had given him the opportunity to read Ford’s mind.

For a few long, stretched-out seconds, the only sound was the gentle crash of waves and a few stray birds that had yet to turn in for the night. Ford tried his best not to stare at Stan, not to overwhelm him. He stared out at the horizon again, but didn’t blur the lines this time. He let the clear picture span out before him - beautiful in its own way.

“Ford…”

The sound of his name almost startled him, but when he turned, he was much more startled by what he saw. “Stanley! Are you alright?!” A tear was rolling down Stan’s cheek, and out of anything that might have panicked Ford before, this was the top of the list. His brother didn’t cry. He reached forward, placing one hand on Stan’s shoulder, the other on his opposite arm. “W-What is it? Are you hurt?”

Ungracefully, Stan sniffled, giving him a watery smile. “We…we’re really adventuring together? After all this time…”

Ford had always thought himself a tough nut to crack, but he could feel his chest grow tighter with the pressure. Breathing became much harder, as if he were standing atop a high mountain. The burning in his eyes was something he had nearly forgotten the feeling of, but here it was, and he couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it. He returned the smile, but when it felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep it on his face, he pulled Stan close, hugging him tight.

“Yes, Stan,” he breathed, shaking with the effort of trying to keep his eyes from leaking. “We are.”

Hands slowly came up to return the hug, and they stood there for a long while. They stood there until the shaking was replaced with shivering, and Ford drew back from the embrace, looking at the face that was so like his own, yet so different all the same.

“Come. We will get sick if we linger out here any longer.”

Stan didn’t argue, and together they stepped back into the warm cabin, wordlessly heading toward the couch. Despite the revelation he’d had before, Stan looked rather worn-out. “My head is pounding.”

“I suppose that’s part of the long-term effects…” Concernedly, Ford headed toward the counter where he’d left his glass and grabbed it. When he turned back around, Stan was staring at a framed picture on the wall. Ford carefully walked back to the couch, sitting down and placing the glass in Stan’s hands himself before lifting his gaze to the photo, too. “Our family.”

The picture showcased one of their last days in Gravity Falls. In front of the Mystery Shack, Stan wore a huge grin and had his arm slung around Soos, whose eyes sparkled with happy tears as he proudly wore the fez, almost too big for his head. Next to Soos, Wendy covered her mouth, laughing at Dipper, who was clinging onto Stan’s back, grinning as he tried to fake choke-hold him. Next to Stan, Ford beamed proudly while Mabel hung off of his flexed arm, pure joy on her face.

Ford chanced a glance toward the real Stan after a moment, who was staring at it with a fond, wistful smile on his face. “I miss those knuckleheads.”

Leave it to the kids to make Stan start to remember again, he thought, nearly smiling to himself. They’d done it before, and they’d keep doing it, he supposed. “So do I,” he agreed. “Perhaps…we should pay them a visit soon.”

Stan’s smile grew a little as he turned his gaze down to the glass in his hands. “Gotta make sure Soos hasn’t burned down the shack, or Wendy hasn’t made off with our register.” He took a few large gulps, as if he hadn’t drank in days. Somewhat relieved, Ford watched him drain the whole glass, wondering if he’d even realized he was beginning to get memories back again, bit by bit. Once he’d finished, Ford took the glass from him, placing it on the coffee table in front of them. Stan’s brow furrowed. “What, you’re not gonna tell me to put that in the sink?”

“Well, I -”

“You fight me about putting things where they should go every day, Poindexter!” Stan scoffed, getting to his feet to snatch the glass back up again, marching it to the kitchen. Astounded, Ford watched him go. It was true - Stan could be a bit of a slob and left things out all the time, whether it be clothes, glasses, shoes, or fishing lures. The last thing Ford wanted was the Stan o’ War II to end up looking the way his house had looked when Stan had been in charge of it, so they argued often about putting things away. 

Of all things to remember. Ford couldn’t help but chuckle a little to himself.

When Stan emerged from the kitchen again, he crossed his arms. “What?”

“Nothing, Stanley. Nothing.”

For a moment, it seemed like Stan was going to fight it, but then he shrugged and just took his place on the couch next to him again. “If ya say so.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, taking in their small cabin as if everything he looked at gave him a new memory.

While Stan looked around, Ford watched him, noticing the sagging in his shoulders, the slow blinking, the general restless movement. It was plain to see that his brother was exhausted from all the emotion, but the thought of suggesting he go to bed was out of the question. He couldn’t leave him now. He wouldn’t.

“Stanley…do you remember, when we were children, I would read you and Mom stories?”

Stan blinked at the question, slow recognition creeping onto his expression. “Oh, yeah. Mom said she liked hearing you read. She said you did good voices.” His brow furrowed. “Huh. I don’t remember ever hearing the endings.”

For once, the words ‘I don’t remember’ didn’t send a cold shiver down Ford’s spine, because he actually had an answer for that. “You’d usually fall asleep,” he said.

Stan’s cheeks flushed. “You remember that damn armchair! It was comfy!”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “Well, anyway…I was thinking about that earlier, actually. I don’t have any books, but I have plenty of stories from our childhood. Do you want to hear one?”

For a moment, Stan seemed to hesitate, then admitted defeat, leaning back against the couch with a huff and crossed arms. “Guess it beats the same things on TV. And I’m gonna hear the ending this time.”

Smiling, Ford leaned over to turn out the lamp, then leaned back against the couch too. “Very well. Hm…do you remember Crampelter?”

Stan’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, that slimy bastard who bullied us in grade school.”

“Right. He made fun of your demeanor and my polydactyly. For years, all we could do was get through each day. The teachers didn’t help us, and Mom was beside herself. Finally, Dad signed us up for boxing. I was terrible at it.” Stan smirked while he continued. “It was not for me. It took you a while, but eventually you got the hang of it, and we were told to ‘fight back’ if that bully came at us again.”

“Yeah, I remember. Wait, how exactly did we deal with him again?”

Ford grinned a little. “Ah, well…you ‘fought back’, as it were. During recess, you went inside to use the bathroom and he and his goons came over to torment me. They called me names, took my glasses, laughed at the special six-fingered gloves that Mom had knit for me. In my head, I knew I should do what Dad told us to. I knew I should just shove him back so he’d finally leave me alone. But…I was too scared. I couldn’t do it.” He shook his head, remembering how small he’d felt back then. “They were about to break my glasses when I heard your voice.”

Stan tilted his head, seemingly interested to hear what happened next. Perhaps this memory was too long gone.

“You marched right over, demanding that Crampelter return my glasses at once. I remember him laughing, taunting you, asking what you were going to do about it when you landed a swift punch to his groin. He dropped the glasses and I scrambled to pick them up while his friends stood in stunned silence. He seemed to be in too much shock and pain to do much else, other than give you a weak, high-pitched threat before waddling off in another direction. Later, I heard from one of the girls that he stood in the corner of the playground and cried.”

“Hah! Sucker got what he deserved!” Stan laughed, seemingly quite proud of himself.

Ford smiled, shaking his head. “Of course, that stunt suspended you for two days. Mom had a few choice words to say to the principal, but I know that  she and Dad were pretty proud of you for standing up for me.”

Stan’s expression softened as he looked up at his brother, a slew of emotions betrayed behind his tired eyes for a quick second. “Yeah, well. Getting beat up is one thing. Letting them hurt my brother is out of the question.”

“Yes…I think you said something like that to the principal,” Ford responded, feeling oddly touched even all these years later. As Stan yawned, he continued. “Do you remember the day we found the original Stan o’ War?”

Through another yawn, Stan nodded. “I got a lotta splinters.”

Ford continued sharing stories, knowing that eventually, their childhood habits would return - and sure enough, before he could finish his third story about their junior prom, Stan’s head lolled onto his shoulder, sleeping completely soundly. Quietly, Ford trailed off, careful not to move too much, and placed the blanket over them both.

It reminded him of the week after Weirdmaggedon, spending nights together on the couch because Ford couldn’t bring himself to leave him, though it was different all the same. Things wouldn’t ever be perfect for them, he knew, as he gently pulled Stan’s glasses off to place them on the table, but they’d always have one constant now. Each other.

He took off his own glasses and relaxed into the couch, Stan’s warmth and soft breaths easily and quickly lulling him to sleep.

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

So, the first chapter of that fungus fic I have blew up! Thanks for the kind comments, you guys got me motivated to write the second chapter! If you don’t want me to tag you in the next one, just let me know. Here is chapter two of No Fun in Fungus.

@daboyau

@theawesomeninja-xd

@nights-flying-fox

@phoebepheebsphibs

“There was really something in here….and I just treated him like he was crazy.” Mikey frowns, staring up at the creature.

Raph blinks away the last bits of sleepiness and takes a step back.

“It…is it just me or does it look like….?”

“Y-Yeah. Let’s leave it here and tell Donnie.” Mikey holds onto Raph’s arm while still holding the battle shell.

“Good idea, big guy.” Raph carefully stays in front of Mikey as they leave the room.

Even as the doors close behind them, he continues making sure he could protect him from all angles.

Only when they hear screaming does he drop it in favor of picking Mikey up and running with him to medbay. Mikey panics, knowing that Donnie’s biggest defense was currently in his hands.

Raph barges in, seeing Donnie sitting next to Leo on the med bed and tossing a thick medical book at something scurrying around on the floor.

“Be careful! Don’t come any closer!” Donnie frantically warns as it misses.

“What’s going on!?” Raph shouts.

“It’s in the room! Either New York rats got even more mutated or it’s a creature I don’t know and both thoughts are equally terrifying!”

Mikey stares hard at the floor, his hand carefully changing its grip on the battle shell.

“Go robo arms!” He tosses the shell as a blur rushes towards Raph.

The arms pop out, grabbing whatever it is and lifting it up so that it can’t escape.

“Good shot Mikey!” Donnie cheers as he gets down from the bed.

“It looks just like what was in my room….” Mikey comments.

Donnie stops.

“Leo wasn’t just seeing things?”

Mikey shakes his head sadly.

“He really was protecting me.

Donnie frowns for a second, then sighs.

“Oh great, he’s going to brag about this forever.”

Mikey smiles softly. He’s aware this is probably an attempt to make him feel better.

“I think we can let him have this one.”

Raph looks at the both of them in confusion.

“Can someone explain everything to Raph?”

Donnie and Mikey tell him all about what happened.

Raph sets Mikey down and goes over to Leo, picking him up and cradling him before sitting down on the bed.

His eyes trail down the cracks on his plastron.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Donnie and Mikey.

Mikey feels his lip tremble.

Donnie’s fists tighten.

He pulls his goggles down to look over the intruder still in a metallic grasp.

“There’s a mystic energy surrounding it, and spreading. Its particles are going into the air. Luckily it’s not enough to effect us yet, but inhaling said smaller particles could have lesser effects.”

“But what does it actually do?” Raph questions.

“As you know, I hate working with incomplete data. I’m going to have to test it first in my lab.”

“We’ll go with ya. Who know s how many others of those things are runnin around?”

Donnie’s face seems to grow conflicted, biting the inside of his cheek.

It was hard to hide his emotions when he actually wanted to.

“I don’t know if Leo is in the right condition to be moved around so much.”

“We can’t just let you go alone. It’s too dangerous.”

Donnie sighs.

“Right. Fine. Let’s go.”

Raph gets off the bed and picks up the vitals monitor that Donnie set up.

Donnie grabs a metal pole from the medical supplies and slides the shell out of the room so that he doesn’t have to get his face close to pick it up.

Out of habit, Raph attempts to stay in front of or by the side of Mikey and Donnie.

The two don’t allow this.

Donnie stays in the front while Mikey purposefully walks slow.

Neither of them planned it with each other. It was a silent agreement that they were not going to let anything come near Raph or Leo.

Eventually they make it to Donnie’s lab.

He has the doors close behind Mikey while Raph gently lays Leo on a bed in there.

He makes sure that the monitor is still well connected to him.

Donnie gets the shell and creature into an analysis chamber. It closes shut before the process begins.

He taps away at his computer until something pops up.

“The particles seem to be spores that release a toxin which effects different parts of the brain. The main ones are the hippocampus and the amygdala.”

“Uh….and what does your science brain know about those parts?” Raph questions.

“The hippocampus handles a lot of things so that isn’t good, and the amygdala….is in charge of fear.”

Mikey tenses.

“So….it could cause nightmares?”

Donnie nods.

“Since there was one in your room, it’s the most likely cause of your and Leo’s nightmares. Judging by his reaction they must have been intense. What was yours about?”

Mikey looks down.

“Is it really going to help to hear what I saw?”

“As much as it might be painful, yes. We need to be aware.”

Mikey wrings his hands together.

“In the first one, L-Leo….Leo said he hated me because I….I-I’m why you…..died. You got crushed by that freaky train monster.”

Donnie’s eyes widen before he glances away.

“So we can assume that they’re not based in any capacity of truth in the slightest.”

Mikey smiles very softly at hearing that.

Raph gently pats his head.

“Was there another one? You said first like there was a second.”

“It was….back when the Krang made you fight Leo….e-everyone but me was dead.“

Mikey can almost feel the fear that flashes through Raph through the explanation.

He, to his credit, tries to avoid it showing so that Mikey doesn’t get guilt over talking about it.

“That is never gonna happen, Raph swears on his bears.”

Donnie lifts up his goggles and puts his hand to his chin.

“They’re both dreams about the Krang. There could be some kind of connection.”

Mikey hides his face in his shell a bit.

“For once I hope you’re wrong.”

Raph puts his fists together.

“If their chewed up bubble gum lookin faces try to mess with us again, they’ll wish they were still trapped in that prison dimension.”

Donnie goes back to typing on his computer.

“I could create a tracker for these things using the pollen sample, and a way to combat its effects wouldn’t hurt.”

Mikey sighs in relief.

He could always count on his brothers, even if that made him feel bad after the fact.

Even if he didn’t believe Leo at first.

He brings his head out of his shell and suddenly sees something making its way from the under side of Donnie’s computer desk.

“Donnie! Look out!”

Donnie is barely able to making a noise in confusion before he gets grabbed back, basically pulled off his feet, by Raph.

This, however, leaves the snapping turtle wide open for the mushroom to jump at and land on his face.

Mikey and Donnie shout as a spore cloud gets sprayed in his face.

Raph grabs it off and throws it as hard as he can away, making it stop moving. He starts coughing from inhaling so much at once.

“Raph! Are you okay!?” Mikey asks with extreme panic.

Raph wipes at his eyes.

“Don’t worry big guy, it’ll take more than weird dust to take me down.” He turns to smile at Mikey before his face falls.

Mikey hadn’t seen him this terrified since Leo talked about closing the portal.

Raph’s breathing grows heavy.

Donnie quickly moves in front of him.

“Raph, what’s going on?”

Raph tears up, hand shakily raising up to put Donnie’s cheek in his hand.

“It’s….it’s gonna be okay, alright? I’m here, R-Raph’s here!”

Donnie and Mikey are both entirely confused.

They have no way of knowing what their brother is seeing.

Both of them are blind to the pink, wriggling tentacles in his vision.

Donnie doesn’t know that there’s Krang around his jaw, spreading onto his shoulders and even infecting his goggles somehow.

Mikey is unaware of the pink goo covering his right eye, or the grotesque mouth replacing the palm that was normally hand in hand with one of his brother’s.

Most of all, nobody would be able to truly understand just how much it was taking him to not run, not be so scared that he shuts down.

He never told a soul what the Krang made him see when they tricked him into revealing their lair.

Despite how he suffered, what hurt him worse was how he failed his family. He wasn’t strong enough to fight against it.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he messes up again.

Donnie carefully moves Raph’s hand away and squeezes it.

“Raph. You have to tell me what you’re seeing.”

“Y-You don’t feel it? It doesn’t hurt?….You can talk? I couldn’t….”

“You couldn’t?….You think we’re krangified.”

Raph blinks some tears away.

“Y-You’re…..not?”

“Listen to me Raph, it’s only a hallucination. We’re okay. Close your eyes and just focus on me.”

“Dee, I can’t, I-I just can’t, what if somethin happens? I have to be able to protect you, Mikey and Leo!”

“The best way you can do that is to trust us.”

Raph inhales sharply.

“Okay, okay….” He closes his eyes.

Donnie moves Raph’s hand back up to his face, allowing him to feel that there were no regularities.

Raph seems to relax slightly.

“There’s nothing there. The Krang aren’t here, they’re gone.” Donnie insists.

“Mikey, could ya say something too?”

“I’m here Raph! I’m all good. We both are.” He puts Raph’s other hand on his face as well, nuzzling into it.

Raph slowly, nervously, opens up his eyes and smiles when he sees the normal faces of his brothers.

He pulls his hands away and hugs them tightly in relief.

“Quick thinking, Donnie.”

Donnie smirks slightly.

“I take payments in the form of being the top of the turtle pile and extra chances to pick the show we watch during hangout time.”

Him and Mikey feel the rumble of chuckling from Raph.

“Looks like we sorta figured out a way to snap each other out of it.”

“And we know we can hear each other when it happens.” Mikey adds.

“I’d rather stay on the safe, scientific side and create something to eradicate all these pests.” Donnie interjects.

Raph opens his mouth to talk, but stops short when he looks behind them.

“Guys, more got in!” He turns the two around so they can see.

Somehow, a group of the creatures slipped in and we’re just waiting there and staring at them.

The group scream in a high pitched way as Donnie tries to get the doors opened.

Once they are, Raph grabs Leo and everyone runs out together.

This is the thing that finally wakes him up.

He groggily lifts his top half up from over Raph’s shoulder.

“Ugh, I feel like the teapot after getting used for sports ball….”

“Leo!” Donnie, Mikey and Raph yell in unison.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it-….wait, that thing in Mikey’s room!”

“We’re running from a bunch of them now!” Mikey explains.

“There’s more!? Where are they coming from!?”

“No current clue about that!” Donnie answers.

“We should warn dad!”

“He went to his Hidden City poker night! We won’t be back until tomorrow!”

“Then I can just portal us to safety-“

“No!“ The others yell at the same time.

“You guys! This is not the time for me to keep up the promise! Let me just get us to April’s and then you can yell at me later!” He looks around for something to turn into a sword.

“I thought you learned to trust us, Leo!” Raph says angrily.

“I do trust you! That doesn’t mean I can’t tell when you guys are making bad decisions because you’re too focused on me! So stop running and let me make sure we’re all safe! Me included!” Leo pushes up from his shoulder.

Raph slowly stops running, followed by Donnie and Mikey.

They were all aware that they might have been a bit suffocating with how they hover over Leo ever since he did what he did.

To his credit, he hasn’t complained even once until right now.

And also to his credit, it was for good reason.

Raph gently sets him down.

“Leo….I’m-“

“Nope, no “I’m sorries.” I don’t need it. I’m not mad. You guys know how much I love being the center of attention.” He smiles as he kneels down to look more.

Raph smiles as well.

“Here, take the pole I got from the med bay.” Donnie suggests.

“Always got just what we need.” Leo takes it and then has a sword in his hand.

As this interaction is happening, Mikey looks a bit into the darkness of the area in front of them.

He’s horrified when the darkness takes shape and starts squirming.

A horde of creatures begin wriggling out.

It’s too late to do anything as the others also notice.

A spore cloud envelopes them.

[babbling-idiot]

How would Herbert react when his s/o accidentally drinks an aphrodisiac he'd been experimenting with cause they mistook it for their own drink or something (preferably nsfw pleeeease)

He honestly would kind of panic for a moment, but after a few minutes, he calms down a bit

He doesn't know that the concoction you've drank has such an effect on you like it does

He honestly finds it interesting and jots it down in his notes for later

He mentions to you that sleeping make its effect dampen and that you should just sleep it off

But the minute you both get to the couch in the living room, you've spun around in his grasp and kissed him

At first, he rolls his eyes and pats your shoulder "Y/n you just need sleep i promise i will explain it when you wake up-" 

and before he can actually complete his sentence, he feels a tingling on his lips, and suddenly, he feels very hot

He realizes that somehow, through the kiss you planted on his lips has actually transferred the effects to him as well

His eyes are blown wide, and he grabs you and places you on the couch before practically covering you with his body. He leans in close

"We have to stay away from each other, the effect of the aphrodisiac lasts for hours, but if you try to satisfy any desire for sex it will be much longer-" He stops mid-sentence as he speaks. His eyes are on your lips, and his breathing is labored. Pupils blown wide

"Screw it." He says as he slams his lips to your eyes and kisses you rapidly. His hands roam over your body quickly

The next few moments were a blur, but you clearly remembered getting undressed

You remembered the time being around four in the afternoon, the last time you looked, and somehow, when you looked back at it, you were shocked

It was now ten till nine and had no recollection of the hours that had passed until you got a pretty good idea of what happened when you looked to your side

Herbert was right there breathing rather hard, and he was looking up to the ceiling 

You tried to sit up but realized two things, one: You and Herbert had made it to the floor at some point and two: You both were nude

Suddenly, Herbert sits up and puts his pants back on, and unexpectedly, he crouches down next to you and pulls you close, picking you up

He then takes you to your shared bedroom and places you on the bed

He then leaves and only two minutes pass before he's back, this time with yours and all of his discarded clothes

You get dressed, and he sat next to you on the bed, silent and almost awkward

"I mistook it for my drink, I left it down there on the desk and I suppose I should have just taken it with me. I'm sorry if I messed up your experiment." You look over at him to see him smiling slightly, you look at him with confusion "Y/n I purposefully replaced your drink with the liquid. I knew you probably wouldn't like the idea, but I knew it was safe. You weren't in danger I swear."

You tilt your head at him and push his shoulder slightly, "Well, thank you for giving me a heart attack. I thought I screwed something up."

He nods his head and looks down. "I suppose I should have at least warned you."

You shrug your shoulders and look at him. This time, he, too, looks at you

"To be honest, that was actually great."

He smiles at this immediately and starts to plan his next experiment

[bobacupcake]

For the shader thing, I was curious about what you think of the fake volumetric ground fog in TotK. I couldn't find a screenshot of it, but it's very prominent in the ancestor cutscenes, I'm sure you're familiar with it

you are so right that i am familliar with them i fixated on them every time i got this cutscene aghjfbgjh

im not sure!!! i have a few guesses though but nothing is super pointing me towards them

for starters, i imagine the thing driving it is some kind of noise/cloud heightmap texture, along with something masking out areas where they should be and shouldnt be (both of these textures are moving & distorting)

but as for how theyre actually doing it.. houghh.. there is definitely a Height to it, if you look at their legs you can see that much, so its not just a really cleverly lit plane.......

mario odyssey has a kind of similar thing in cap kingdom, but im not 100% convinced these are using the same technique

talked with @krisp-xyz about this and she pointed out the mario one definitely seems more mesh-based, with the alpha being set based on how far objects in back of it are (so if the fog is right in front of a solid surface, its very transparent, but if its further away, its more solid!!)

another thing that i'm not 100% sure about, but the fog in totk seems lower resolution, compared to everything else? so my two guesses are either its just a very fancy mesh-based approach, with the general "shape" of the clouds being blocked out and pushed around by the textures, and then the textures & normal maps being used to give it convincing lighting + transparency (along with what theyre doing in mario odyssey, transparency based on the depth of the objects behind it). and then on top of that it definitely seems like it would be blurred a little bit with a post-processing effect to hide the fact that its a mesh even further, and placed onto the scene based on the depth information. this is kind of similar to what the clouds in sea of thieves do. if this explanation sounds kind of vague thats because it is it looks soo good if theyre doing it like this i cant begin to imagine the specific calculations theyre doing to get it looking so natural from different angles

which is why my second theory is from, and its that, they are doing raymarching??? it LOOKS raymarched, but i didnt jump to it because, raymarching is expensive!! essentially when you hit a mesh, you then start taking little tiny steps through it, and after a certain number of steps, you add all the values you got together, and divide it by the number of steps, and thats the average for that point ! you can also do a lighting calculation for each point but the more things you add onto a raymarched shader the performance very quickly adds up, since if say your step count is 64, every operation you do on a pixel will be done 64 times

here's a very old gif of me messing around with it .. in like ..... 2017......

but again i hesitate on this because, its a switch!! and raymarching is expensive!! though like i said it does look like its scaled up and possibly blurred, so if they were doing the raymarching calculations at like 4x the screen size, and only needed a few steps because it is only taking up a little bit of the ground and they can blur it, and also marking the areas where they Dont have to do raymarching by the mask texture. then maybe????? unless someone has access to the rendering frames for this though i would not be able to say for sure. but those are my two theories!!!

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode Drabbles

tw: vague intoxication, (sort of) non-con kissing (very vague, i skipped out on the gritty details because they make me uncomfortable : / )

wanna read the extended fic? here’s the table of contents!

⚠️ THIS IS NOT PART OF BENTLEY’S MAIN STORYLINE, THIS IS WHERE ASTEN WAS IN THE FIRST HALF OF CHAPTER ELEVEN.

IF YOU HAVENT READ CHAPTER ELEVEN ALREADY, PLEASE READ IT FIRST.

SUNDAY -- JULY 22 -- 3:01AM

WHEN HE AGREED TO PLAY SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN WITH ALL FIFTY-SEVEN PEOPLE AT THE PARTY, HE DIDN'T ACTUALLY EXPECT THE GAME TO LAST LONG ENOUGH TO REACH HIS TURN.

The closet door closed with a deafening clack.

Asten would be a filthy liar if he said his heart wasn't hammering out of his chest. Of all the other girls in the drawing (there had to be, like, twenty, at least), of course she would be the one who's name was drawn alongside his. It was just his luck, really -- although he couldn't actually decide whether that luck was good or bad. 

The closet in Mason's parent's bedroom was huge. So big there was an island in the center that seemed to house only jewelry. He glanced around the room anxiously, and the whole thing felt both huge and excruciatingly small at the same time... although he guessed it could've been the alcohol that was coursing through his body making it feel that way. He'd never drank so much in his life -- he was starting to feel like a lightweight when pitted against Valor and Rockie, who both showed zero signs of being effected by the copious amounts of alcohol the three of them had consumed since the night began. It was even worse that he decided to do it on an empty stomach. It had only taken about ten minutes for him to start mixing up his left and right.

"Well?"

He turned on his heel, green eyes locking onto hers. Georgia was staring at him with her big brown eyes, and she flipped some of her braids behind her head with a dorky little smile on her face. She wasn't wearing her overalls anymore, but a dress, black with a tall neck and little ruffles on the sleeves, and she had a face of natural makeup on that made her look... perfect. Though he thought the alcohol may have been adding a little more airbrushing to pretty much everything... but especially her.

"Well?" He forced out, averting his eyes to some of the clothes hanging past her head.

"You're not gonna do anything?" She questioned, her eyes seemingly picking him apart like a machine. He very nearly felt everywhere her irises touched. "Every other time you've been around me, you've been gobsmacked. Not so pretty up close?"

Asten felt his face heat up, and he fake scratched his nose in an attempt to cover it, at least for a second. If he were being honest, she was way too pretty up close. 

"I thought this game was... just for their suspense," He answered cooly, gesturing to the door. Turning away also gave his face another second to return to its natural color.

Georgia snickered from behind him. "Well, it is. But that doesn't have to be all it's for." 

He glanced back at her quickly, and she had a smug little smile on her face that made him want to punch something really solid. 

He must've sounded like a doofus when he muttered: "What?"

Georgia laughed at him -- and he was sure it wouldn't have sounded so nice if he wasn't already drunk. He couldn't decide if he liked it or not; the lack of control. The way the beer fogged his mind and made it hard to see things like logic, sense. The way it blurred his sense of judgement like a scrambling frequency on a tracking radar.

"C'mon, don't tell me you haven't thought about it at least once. I know a sucker when I see one,"

He couldn't even process the words that were coming out of her mouth, because she was moving toward him. In the blink of an eye, she'd put her arms around his neck and was staring up at him with her huge doe eyes that made it so very hard to breathe. He went about as stiff as a rod of iron, all attempts at keeping his face cool fleeing instantaneously when he felt his cheeks erupt into a bright tomato-red.

He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Georgia smiled up at him. "No one has to know -- that's the name of the game."

He breathed in, and then out, still managing to look past her despite her alarming proximity. Every semblance of common sense seemed to fade into the backdrop with the clothes that were hanging there. "We're drunk."

"You're drunk. I'm perfectly sober," She said with a snicker. "I drink this good old thing called water."

Even then, Asten watched her gaze fall to his mouth, and for some reason, he didn't like it.

"I've never..."

"You're wasting time," She chided in a sing-song tone. Asten blinked once, twice, her face coming into sudden focus in front of him -- really close to him. His heartbeat was so loud.

He took a few steps back, carefully pushing her arms away from their places around his neck. "Sorry, I just... I don't think I'm... I mean, I just met you, really, and I've never really... I guess I just..." 

He sighed heavily at how stupid he must've sounded, running a hand through his blue hair as he stepped back to force some space between them. With the alcohol, his powers, and the fact that he was closed in a closet with the closest thing he'd ever had to a crush, he had to be running at least a hundred and ten degrees. "I don't think I..."

Georgia took a step back, a flash of something like hurt ripping across her painfully beautiful features. "Okay." She started, blinking a few times. "But you're really cute when you ramble."

Stunned into silence, time and space seemingly nonexistent, Asten stood, dumbfounded. He was what when he what?

"I don't... ramble," He muttered, his words slurring in a way that kind of freaked him out, given he knew what they were supposed to sound like. He crossed his arms over his chest lightly, staring at a pair of boots that were on a shelf behind her. He really wondered what color his face was, because it felt like billion degrees.

Georgia laughed at him again, the same sound that made his heart beat just a little faster, that made her face seem to glow even though the closet lights were dim. 

"You're so pretty,"

He closed his mouth tightly as soon as he'd said it, hoping that maybe she hadn't heard him. He'd never felt more out of control than he did now, under the impression of, how much beer? He wasn't sure, but it was enough to destroy the filter he kept over his words and thoughts. Something writhed in the back of his mind -- a little Bruce Wayne, maybe, telling him to get out of the situation while he still could.

She must've heard him, though, because it seemed to be the last straw on the camel's back. One second, her eyes had drifted down to his lips again, and the next, she had grabbed him by the face and her mouth collided with his.

He jumped, but didn't move far enough to actually break away from her. For a solid five seconds, he didn't do as much as breathe as everything from elation to sheer panic flooded his veins. Logic made another quick appearance when the realization that he shouldn't be doing this materialized in his head.

He pulled away from her, taking a breath. "Stop, I don't-"

I don't want to. No, he didn't, but he did, and he was, because she didn't give him time to finish talking. Her hand was in his hair, but there had never been a hand in his hair like that, in a situation like that, in a place like that, and he wanted to pull away. But he didn't, instead he let her, bringing his hands up to hover in the air on either side of her. He'd never kissed anyone before.

His hands caught on fire.

Georgia pulled away just quick enough to look at them and laugh again. His heart had to have been ripping a hole in his ribcage by now, little tiny figurines of every Wayne in the entire family battling to win over his mind, telling him to stop. But he didn't want to stop, and that was scary -- because he wasn't in control of what he wanted anymore. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go back to his room and sleep off the beer. He wanted to shove her away and pretend it never happened. But she was smiling in his face and the fire was making her glow in such an ethereal way.

She kissed him again. 

He kept his hands far away from them, subconsciously extremely aware of the seven minute timer ticking down somewhere, of the fact that he shouldn't have allowed himself into that situation in the first place. Excruciatingly aware that Bruce Wayne was probably awake at the Manor wondering what he was up to. Terrifyingly aware that Georgia's hands were wandering and that it kind of made him want to vomit. 

He tried to move away, but his back thudded softly against what had to be shelving, and he couldn't push her off because he'd set her on fire. She had clearly done things like that in the past, which made him feel a sudden, new level of gross and violated and disgusting because he didn't know how many people she'd made out with before him. He wasn't sure how kissing someone so pretty could feel so bad, but it did. 

He didn't want to do this, but he was doing it. He didn't want to be there anymore. He wanted his common sense to come back, but it stayed agonizingly out of reach -- all the parts of him that said to push her anyway, that this wasn't okay, that he'd blatantly told her to stop and she hadn't. All the logic in the world seemed at his fingertips, but floating just deep enough in the alcohol fog that he couldn't think clearly enough to see through.

He attempted to sidestep her, but failed miserably because he was pinned between her and whatever was behind him. She didn't seem to realize the level of uncomfortable that was radiating from him, or maybe she didn't care, maybe he wasn't making it obvious enough. He tried moving his head away but her head just came with it. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he didn't want to do this. He silently willed his hands to stop burning so he could get her off, but they didn't. He couldn't make himself do anything.

Two loud knocks at the door were what finally jolted his senses back into him. 

"Hey -- times up." Came a voice through the door. It had been seven minutes?

That seemed to smack everything back into place, because the flames engulfing his hands died down to nothing, and he was finally able to grab her shoulders and force her away. 

Silence, staring, and bated breathing was all that ensued. Georgia's expression -- which had started out as a smile but was now falling -- seemed to change as she looked at him. "Asten?"

He took a minute to breathe, bringing one of his hands up to brush anxiously through his hair. Every part of him suddenly felt wrong, vile, nasty, and he took to staring at the shelves behind her. 

"I told you to stop," He muttered almost inaudibly, physically unable to make his voice any louder. "I... I didn't-"

"You didn't stop," She cut him off, her expression contorting into one of confusion. "You were obviously turned on, your hands caught fire! You were kissing me back all on your own!"

The use of that phrase turned on made him feel even more disgusting than he already did. She was right, he had kissed her. He wanted to -- a part of him, anyway. At first. But now...

"You can't blame me when you were doing it, too!" She whispered with a sense of urgency, something like fear surfacing in her eyes. 

He couldn't even seem to make sense of everything that was swirling around inside of him. In addition to feeling like the dirtiest creature on planet earth, things like guilt, shame, and anger also made an appearance. She was right, she wasn't entirely to blame; but he had been trying to get her off. He did tell her to stop. Where was the line? 

Why did everything feel wrong?

"Just for the record-" Georgia started, grabbing one of the black jackets from a shelf behind him and using it to wipe at his mouth. Did he have lipstick on him? "-you're one hell of a kisser."

That didn't make him feel any better.

She dropped the jacket in the floor and kicked it under a stool. "Turn off the dramatics and get out of the room before they think you're crawling down my throat." 

So he did. He summoned every little bit of willpower into forcing himself to be as nonchalant as possible as Georgia opened the closet door, and he followed her out, back into the bedroom where every member of the party was circled up in the floor.

"Well?" Valor snickered, throwing his hands up. "Did sparks fly?"

Asten opened his mouth, but Georgia was the one who spoke. "Oh yeah," She deadpanned, in a way that made Valor's suggestion sound absolutely ludicrous. "Because I'd want to put my mouth on that."

The venom, the tone change, the sheer disgust that emanated from her statement made Asten's stomach turn. Everyone in the room seemed to shift when she said that, a few chuckling, like they really believed her. They really believed the lies pouring from between the lips that, mere moments ago, Asten had to physically force off of his own.

"Plus, I think the alcohol is getting to him. He's looking kind of green,"

All eyes were on him, and suddenly, he did sort of want to hurl. The beer inside of him seemed to be churning into something volatile, hot, like lava. His skin seemed to burn everywhere she'd touched -- his mouth, various places across his back and shoulders that she'd traced with her fingertips, his scalp where she'd been lacing her fingers into his hair, his jawline where she'd grabbed his face. She said something else -- he didn't hear it -- that finally seemed to set the room at ease.

"Dude, you okay?"

His eyes flicked up, meeting with Valor's gray ones, who was standing in front of him now. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten there, but the older boy looked concerned. Asten couldn't help the little voice in the back of his head that kept telling him everyone knew exactly what he did.

Asten cleared his throat, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead in an attempt to make sense out of anything. "Not feeling too good."

"Yeah, I can tell," Valor replied with a smirk, moving to his side and looping one of his huge wings around Asten's shoulders. "You did good, though. Drank way more than me at my first party, and lasted about an hour longer. Let's get you back to your redheaded roommate, yeah?"

Asten didn't even look at the rest of the group as he and Valor passed, just stared down at the floor instead. 

"I'm impressed," Valor muttered when they were out of earshot, scanning Asten with his gray irises as they worked their way out of the massive house. "I don't think any guy here could say no to Georgia if we were locked in a room alone with her. Good on you. I think Rockie would lose his shit if the new kid, of all people, kissed his girlfriend."

Asten nearly gagged. (Much to his luck, Valor was convinced it was the alcohol.)

Georgia had said nothing about Rockie.

And she'd made out with Asten anyways.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld ❤️

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme - LINK - Update

-Added "especially pockets" to this part:

Another important component in my theorizing is that Good Omens 2 is especially interested in these three things: doors, windows, and pockets—especially pockets. We'll be seeing these things a lot within the spaces when studying the sideburns, especially once I get to making more in-depth posts.

-Added a new section titled "The Past". Here are the contents:

The Past The Season 2 present day storyline is broadly solvable for the sideburns without examining the minisodes. Even so, once those minisodes are examined, other aspects of the spaces come into play as what may affect the hair or sideburns. These things suggest even season 1 had factors affecting the spaces to make his sideburns look more consistently short for its present day. For instance, he never wore a hat when driving and never had plants behind him in the car when driving either in season 1. These things affect how the sideburns change in season 2. In season 2's present day, they shorten during his drives in episode 1 when the plants are shown behind him both times. That happens yet again before the closing credits start in episode 6. In 1941, the car is surrounded by fire, Aziraphale is with him, not wearing a hat, and Crowley's wearing a hat. The sideburns lengthened instead of shortened for that drive. Nonetheless, the content below is primarily based on the season 2 present day storyline. You can find more about the minisodes in the links at the bottom.

...

-Updated about the "Standing with precision" at the ending part for longer sideburns. Here are the contents:

-Standing at the threshold with utmost precision in the season's ending The sideburns are at their longest-length in the season's ending up to the final cut right before the credits start. I currently think it is because of a combination of stillness, his left arm's exclusive touch on the threshold, his right hand pocket touch, and having his legs crossed. Every cut of him from the front ensures a symbol of fire from the coffee shop to his right, and a hat-wearing human somewhere visually to his left, even if it's all the way across the street in the first of the three cuts.

...

-Updated about how the present day sideburns shorten during the drives while specifically including the plants behind Crowley. Here are the contents:

-Driving the Bentley for a long enough time after de-activating it as a home base. His plants are ensured to be behind him as well.

...

-Updated that in addition to thresholds being able to force or counter the effect of shorter sideburns in human spaces...so can hats...still working through fire and roofs:

-Being present in human spaces. Thresholds can both force and counter this effect, dependent on their design. In the past, hats can also help force or counter the effect. There are things about fire and roofs I'm still working through as well.

...

Added the following as an activation point for shorter sideburns:

-Standing with his left hand in his pants pocket as Maggie and Nina are leaving while Aziraphale enters the bookshop in episode 6. He is shown blurred from some distance, so it's easy to miss him. He's to the camera's right behind Nina. Both humans are no longer looking at him. It's a cut that ensures Crowley is briefly visible before the next Muriel scene.

...

-Got more specific about where the car is actually parked each episode when it's near the bookshop.

...

-Committed to saying the border expanded.

...

-General light re-wording in various places. I did remove the "former" of "former demon" since he technically claimed "demon" twice in front of Muriel compared to the one "former demon" in front of Shax. As noted many times by this point, I think Crowley has a deep trust in Muriel.

...

-Added the following when talking about Crowley being alarmed at the demons arriving:

There is something about layering and switches they seem to have in the games they play that I don't fully understand.

-Added the following about the pub and music shop encounters:

Each encounter mentions lights of a similar nature.

-Updated the section on the simple answer to Heaven as part of The Bigger Thresholds Trick to the following:

I don't know the true simple explanation for Heaven though as more time passes, I lean most toward "pretended to be arrested". That's because it's emphasized as how he gets in with Muriel. His own dialogue brings it up once he's actually inside the threshold. It has a little rhythm to it. The problem with that solution is that the ideal one would include a noun, such as "buttons" or "cells" or "doorknobs," to represent the Triple. Another good solution would be something like "engaged in misdirection", especially given the context of the entrance scene itself. The "LETTERS" mailbox is a potential clue as is the doors closing in so specifically on Crowley's watch. So, I'm not fully convinced "pretended to be arrested" is the answer. It's still the one I lean the most toward as of the latest update.

-Added some more wording near the end about the "Separately Together" theme. So, generally updated that part to the following:

Crowley is giving everything he has in himself to see Aziraphale off without truly giving his full self up in the process. Aziraphale is going to a place Crowley will not follow. Even so, the demon of the pair has put pieces in place to help Aziraphale from the distance they will have between each other in the foreseeable future. They both contributed to creating and maintaining a connection with each other during Good Omens 2. They also had to work together separately. They both love Earth, and they are going to work to protect Earth in Good Omens 3. In my view, there's a hidden "Separately Together" theme in Good Omens 2 that one cannot find—or will very much struggle to find—unless you figure out at least some of the pocket puzzles. Linked to The Door Trick is something truly magical called The Door Catch. I found it on accident through never fully solving The Pocket Trick.

[hannah-heartstrings]

Writing Patterns/First 10 Lines Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @emeraldhazeart!

Tagging: @druidx @inkysqueed, and I'm not sure who all else has 10 fics posted, so: open tag!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I think I already know what the patterns are going to be, but we'll see. I'm assuming I go backwards. I also assume posted fics doesn't count wips. I'm not sure about snippets either but I included a few of the longer ones that feel kinda like fics to me.

1. Local Rule

            Stepping out of the barracks and into the dim morning light, Fairwyn crossed the courtyard where Garrus was already talking to a young redguard.

2. I didn't give it a name here on tumblr, but its file name is Date

            Garrus tugged on his red silk cuff. This shirt was way too expensive for him, what was he even doing?

3. Sweet Surprise

            Cradling two sweet rolls in one hand Lecrinn held them close as she pushed the heavy door with the other. She opened it just enough to slip out, leaving the chatter and warmth of the busy inn for the street outside. It was also busy and warm but more tolerably so.

4. Heart Warmed

            Cheydinhal marketplace swirled with activity from people and snow.

5. I Got You

            The world had faded away. Lecrinn and Garrus stood by the road, her head nestled against his shoulder as his leaned down where their foreheads touched, eyes closed, arms around the other.

6. Friday Kiss Tag Game

            Sitting along the riverbank, Lecrinn and Garrus laughed.

7. Starlight

            She was like a shooting star, Garrus thought as Lecrinn walked down the street towards him, showing up unexpected and catching all of your attention.

8. Stalemate

            Warm light flickered across the stone floor as the fireplace crackled, it turning to a blur as Baurus’s eyelids drooped. As his head began to nod he quickly straightened, snapping himself back awake. “All right, Martin,” he walked over to the table covered in a pile of books, “time for bed.”

9. You're My Rest

            Willow branches swayed over the lake shore, their shadows dancing across a quilt and the dishes strewn across, left with crumbs, drops, and last bites.

10. Shield You from the Rain

            Light rain patted against the dirt road, rippled through puddles, and left drops on the grass. It stirred up the scent of fresh earth and left a chill in the late morning air.

What I thought, I like to start by setting the scene. I always have but I haven't always been good at it. I used to struggle with it so much that I'd end up skipping over it. A lot of times the first paragraph was the last thing I wrote, which actually helped a lot so, can recommend.

My favorite ones here though break from the pattern a bit. Starlight and I Got You start with a quick line that sets up the theme and then sets the scene, I might look for opportunities to do that more often, I like the effect.

The other patterns are that they're all Oblivion fanfiction and they're mostly my ship. And that I don't finish nearly as much as I write, the amount of files I scrolled past to find the posted ones. 😅

[softsky-daily]

11/4/2024

Vague shapes in the vast mass of cloud.

Positive thing: I maintained some incredible level of excitement I hadn't reached in a while.

Today... was a blur. I guess I'll start off saying I woke up nauseous as all get-out, so I ended up calling out on work. I felt bad about that since I've been doing that a lot lately, but I decided I wouldn't linger on that and instead really focus on making today fun and relaxing so I could feel better. And boy did I!

My friend a while ago had recommended the anime "My Happy Wedding," which is funny because they don't technically hold a wedding at all in the anime and it's actually got demons and magic and crazy stuff, anyway, I decided now was the time to go on a binge-watching session since it was only 12 episodes and I knew I could finish it within the afternoon. And it was really good. It's literally a fantasy about being fixed by a hot anime boy after you've been through trauma but they do it tastefully. And there's magic, yay! Really though, I liked their interpretation of someone learning to heal after abuse by finding healthy relationships (not just romantically, but with friends and chosen family).

Midway through I decided I should get some tea for my aching stomach (and also for a treat) so I went to a nearby cafe and got some white peach oolong tea. Hot. It was so good. Sweet and mellow and just the right amount of bitterness to really make the flavor linger in your mouth. And it made my nausea go away, so it did its job in that regard too. But what I didn't know is that oolong tea actually has a fair amount of caffeine, and I had gotten a pretty big size of it. I chugged the whole thing while watching the anime and to be honest I really don't know when the caffeine hit but it did. Oh my god. To be honest I'm still wired as hell and feel like I could bounce up to heaven in one big hop and high five an angel, and it's probably been 12 hours since I drank it.

Needless to say, in my heightened caffeine state everything got, like, 100x more likely to have an effect on me. I cried a lot during the anime and jumped up everywhere when it got exciting and then, and then, I decided to to rewatch nigehaji scenes and that got me so giddy it just carried the high even further, until I blinked and there was full handwritten essay about what I liked about nigehaji sitting in front of me.

It feels like there's a big cloud in my head and electricity is bouncing everywhere between my ears. Like I'm floating and I could be carried off by the wind at the smallest nudge. Like there's a drum in my chest and every beat is reverberating in every vein in my body. Is excited even the word for this?? I feel like my body is just a vessel for some wild thundercloud that I'm barely channeling to form coherent thoughts. It's fun though. I think. Honestly it's like I'm working through a thick fog but I guess because I'm in a heightened state, by default my brain is interpreting that as a good thing. I guess I'm enjoying it while I can?? I'm usually so exhausted I don't know what energy feels like anymore. Maybe this is just how everyone else feels normally? No way this can be sustainable, right?

Okay so I just did the math and based on what I looked up, I had about 180mg of caffeine. Good lord. I have caffeine sensitivity so that's extra overdoing it I think. It's a good thing I did fun things today and not anxiety-inducing things or I think I might've exploded from the heart palpitations alone.

Soo I guess now I have the Herculean task of trying to get to sleep tonight. I've had a lot of water all today even with the tea, but somehow it hasn't faded away at all yet. I already have insomnia so this'll be a fun challenge. Hopefully tomorrow I'm not absolutely dead from the caffeine crash, whenever sleep does happen.

It really was a good day though, whether despite or because of the caffeine. It's been a while since I sat down and binged an anime, and there was something very nostalgic and healing about it. I mean, the anime was good which definitely helped, but even just the act itself was fulfilling in some way. And I of course always love indulging the nigehaji brain worms in my head. I drew, I worked on building the Gundam my friend gave me, I wrote and danced around my room and had a yummy tea... yeah, it was a good day.

Now let's hope I sleep. Thank goodness I work from home tomorrow.

[animehouse-moe]

Two On Ice Chapter 1: Reunion Spot

Wow. I'll say it one more time, wow. Of all the new series that have appeared in WSJ this year, I don't think it's an understatement to say that this is arguably the most promising first chapter bar none. Hell, even going into 2022 and earlier it would remain a standout. So lots to talk about. Lots and lots to talk about. But first, you should go read the chapter

So, let's start with the concept. Off the bat, incredibly great idea. Placing the kid that only ever had eyes for the top alongside the girl that was always forced to maintain her position at the top is such a great concept. It mixes the ideas of always looking forward vs always looking over your shoulder. The passion and desire to continue, vs the strain and requirements of holding your position. And that narrative begins with this loaded statement from our lead character Hayuma.

As a concept for a character driven story, it's a flawless chapter one approach, and is right at home with all the other accoutrements.

Take for example, the character design. It's sharp and detailed, almost blocky even. But all the characters are totally unique, even the way they get drawn is. They're all great with expressiveness, and off the bat the mangaka isn't afraid to play around with the character designs and introduce some chibi style to make the comedy pop.

But that's nothing compared to the most important piece in a manga like this: movement. And man, does it ever feel like it moves. The mangaka uses two "simple" tricks, but it makes all the difference in the world.

The first trick is to bend the rules of paneling. When you really want to convey motion, stretch the limits. Draw outside the lines to really sell the perspective on the scene. It works wonders when employed effectively like it is here. There's three instances of it as well. The duo breaking the panel edge with their legs, then the man's hand overlapping, and then the woman stretching 3 panels. All of it expresses just how fluid that movement is, that it can't be contained by lines or limits.

And number two, collages. Perhaps not the best choice in words, but allow me to explain. What do you feel from the above image? Obviously you grasp the intent behind the movement, but you don't actually see the woman get thrown up in the air. But still, you feel it. Why? Because of what the mangaka chooses to show you. A simple hand reaching upwards is enough to convey that motion, and readers perfectly grasp that.

Similarly, look at this example. We have Hayuma imposed atop the skating rink, as well as a single image of one of his legs. But yet, you perfectly grasp the intent and flow. He uses that leg to stop himself and turn into his triple axel, and you feel that intent so clearly.

I guess there's really three tricks, but I think this last one is something that mangaka should be aware of regardless, and that's blurring and linework. In both images, there's a lot of extra lines and hatching that speaks to the movement of the characters. Not just the lines on the ground/ice or even around them, but how the shading/hatching of the characters appear. The linework on the characters themselves bends towards the motion that they are doing. In this chapter it's largely spinning, so you'll see the hatching align with the rotation of the characters to help sell that movement.

I think the only thing I could speak on that could use improvement is just the choices in paneling. The dynamic feel is incredible, but some of the more "still" panels where characters are focused on talking can feel a little.... typical? Not at all in a bad way, but just sorta something that feels like what you'd expect.

It's something I really hope the mangaka will quickly grasp and improve upon, because some of their ideas have really incredible potential, like this panel. It's really good in its current state with how it uses distance and space, but it could be even better if it used the window frame as the frame for the panel itself. It's just simple stuff like that, where they have really great ideas through this first chapter, but just miss on going the extra mile to do something really incredible.

Anyways, easily the best first chapter in WSJ this year and, personally speaking, the best opening chapter in WSJ since Sakamoto Days. I'm really hoping that the follow up chapter can provide the same energy and excitement as this one, so I'm really looking forward to it!

[whiskey-bumblebee]

12 days of winter: day twelve

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: ~900

Prompt: NYE

A/N: A little bit of angst at the beginning (related to typical BAU casework), but mostly BAU family fluff and a little kiss at the end :)

You're slightly struggling to stay awake as the clock nears 10, then 11, then 11:10, 11:20, 11:25 when you check again, then 11:40. The party should hypothetically just be starting, what with the time between now and midnight getting shorter and shorter, but it seems like you're not the only one starting to feel the effects of the late night.

The BAU team and their partners populate a booth in the back of the bar, where you're noticing everyone is starting to slump a little bit. Morgan had been excited about the potential of everyone going clubbing together, but that prospect seemed less and less likely as the minutes wore on. Sure, many of them were used to being up late or early, working strange days and long hours, but the weight of the year was starting to set in. And although nobody had said it out loud, it was hard to be excited about the year ahead when many of them, at least from the perspective of a profiler, looked much the same. State lines and even borders blurred together, the cases different enough to keep them on their toes, but wasn't that awful in its own way too? So many ways to hurt. So many ways to kill.

You let your head drop to Aaron's shoulder with a soft sigh, and he nuzzled against your hair.

"What are you excited for?" You mumbled to Aaron, trying to start a conversation that might lift the mood.

"Well, we were planning on adopting a cat this year," He said, trying to think of other bright spots. "And we have those trips booked; New York, Aruba."

You hummed, lifting your head from his shoulder. "I forgot about Aruba. That'll be a nice trip."

"Aruba?" Rossi said inquisitively. "I can't picture you there, Aaron."

The rest of the team nodded.

Hotch shrugged. "I've never been, but we thought it might be a little quieter than Florida or the Bahamas."

"Tropical drinks on the beach, warm sun, soft sand..." You trailed off, smiling dreamily. "Maybe we should look for houses while we're there," You joked.

Aaron smiled at you lovingly. "I think we'll fit right in."

Penelope chimed in. "White sand beaches, right? Ugh, you guys are going to love it. Sleep, swimming, snorkeling... all the good S's."

You nodded enthusiastically, reaching across the table for her hand. "I've had a photo of this one beach up on the fridge for forever. I'm going to send you so many photos."

She squeezed your hand affectionately, giving you a big grin.

"There's a beach in Aruba known for its flamingos, but they're not actually endemic to the island, they were brought in by a hotel as a tourist attraction. Because they're outside of their normal area, their diets have to be supplemented to enable them to retain their typical pink color," Spencer added.

"That's so interesting, Spence," You replied. "I don't think we'll be visiting that beach but that's so interesting that they brought in flamingos."

You let out a large yawn. "What time is it?"

As if on cue, the other patrons in the bar started counting backwards from 10.

9,

8,

You looked at Aaron and quickly asked him if he would be your new year's kiss.

7,

He replied with a sweet "of course, babylove."

6,

Penelope pulled Morgan in close, rubbing her nose affectionately against his. Rossi sipped his drink. JJ and Emily looked at each other, both of them too shy to ask the question.

5,

Spencer checked his watch, and although you didn't hear him over the overwhelming noise in the room, you were sure he was commenting that the clock had already struck midnight, according to his atomically-tuned watch.

4,

Your hand tightened in Garcia's, and you shot her a wide smile as Derek threw his arm around her shoulders.

3,

You looked into Aaron's eyes, met with a glistening excitement that made him look decades younger.

2,

Aaron closed the gap, bringing his hand to the side of your face and pressing his lips to yours. You were vaguely aware of the number one being called out, and the eruption of sound in the room as people cheered and wished each other happy new year, the air pregnant with the hopes and dreams cast out in whispered voices, the anticipation of another 365 days on this fragile and lonely planet.

But as you and Aaron broke away, resting your foreheads against each other, and he whispered that he loved you, that was the only thing on your mind. You heard yourself whisper it back, but for all you knew, you were the only two people in the room. Aruba, New York, a cat yet to be named, they were all peripheral. It came to you in a moment of striking clarity that the thing you were looking forward to the most was more time with the people you found yourself surrounded by. Your found family. Your soulmate. And whatever happened, whatever fresh horrors you'd face when the cases started rolling in, you couldn't imagine wanting anything else.

This is your life, your one precious life. What an incredible stroke of luck that it looks the way it does.