#man. i can work a computer mostly no issues

[001x456]

any 457 fic recs?

In-ho x Gi-hun fic recs

credits to the respective authors! ♡

*some of them are wholesome fluff, but some may contain topics that can be triggering, taboo and considered “dark theme” in nature; so after tapping the links, make sure you read the tags first (actually, since I'm a sucker for whump, spicy and fucked up stuff, most of them are 'dead dove do not eat', so be warned)

Overthrown

Seong Gi-hun isn't the only enemy the Front Man has. It takes him too long to realize that.  Or, Front Man's right hand man, the Officer, with the help of the Soldiers, plans to take him down. And In-ho has been too blind to see the betrayal coming.  (Ironic enough, it turns out the one who's too trusting isn't Gi-hun.)

Obedience and Oblivion (NSFW)

Dragged back into the shadows of the games, Gi-hun finds himself bound not just by chains but by the quiet, unnerving pull of the man who holds him captive. The Front Man offers him comfort wrapped in control, tenderness laced with possession. As lines blur between survival and submission, freedom and desire, Gi-hun must decide: will he rise above, or let himself fall deeper into the arms of the enemy?

and I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me

"Young-il was a good person. He was my friend. And you killed him because all he wanted was to save his family."

"Gi-hun —" In-ho quickly stopped and shut his mouth when he realized he was letting it slip. He's Player 456 to you now, and you're not Young-il anymore, warned the voices in his head.

You're the Front Man and he's Player 456. Young-il and Gi-hun are no more. And that ache, the sudden surge of pain in In-ho's chest, In-ho could never seem to understand.

all I worship and adore (NSFW)

After the tenth year anniversary of his wife's death, In-ho decided it was time for him to feel something else that wasn't grief. He found himself in a shady brothel with a companion of an overly friendly, overly awkward sex worker named Seong Gi-hun. (It's fine, right? It's merely physical pleasure and nothing more. This does not mean you're betraying her, it does not mean you're moving on, or so In-ho told himself.)

loving you is a losing game

Gasping and gurgling and choking on his own blood, In-ho's eyes remain fixated on Gi-hun and Jun-ho.

Mister Right

“Hwang Inho,” His assailant introduced stiffly and rattled off a lengthy sequence of numbers. “Eh?” They’d given Gihun something for the pain and it was making him a little dizzy. “My name and badge number,” The man said, his jaw clenched tight as he advised, “you should lodge a formal complaint to the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency when you are able to walk, sir.” “Oh…ok.” “Did you remember what I just said?” Gihun’s head lolled. He blinked groggily at the figure dressed in all black. “Are you my nurse? This needle in my arm hurts. Could you blow on it?” The man didn’t move. “Please?” He whined, blinking back tears.

One Way Ticket (NSFW)

Gi-hun arrives in a foreign land brimming with hope and dreams of starting a new life with the woman he’s convinced is his soulmate. But when things start to unravel, and the truth of his situation becomes painfully clear, he finds himself at the mercy of a stranger—Hwang In-ho, a man who sees opportunity in Gi-hun’s desperation.

Final Game

In which In-ho tries running away from his own self, his guilt, doubt and feelings. (Gi-hun is handcuffed to a bed, yet In-ho finds himself the one in chains, unable to run away.)

Material Girl

“I’m not a prostitute,” The man sitting in the small plastic chair opposite Junho’s work desk repeated. Junho glanced up from the arrest form he was filling out on his computer and studied him. Seong Gihun, age forty-three, resident of Ssangmun-dong. The system showed his only living relative to be his elderly mother. There were numerous citations on file for money issues mostly, but no prostitution. Oh, and today was his birthday. “Officer,” the man said, wringing his hands like an old woman and rocking in his seat, “I swear.” Junho took his fingers off the keyboard and crossed them over his desk. “Ajusshi, I have you on video without your pants in a popular love hotel.”

dead (for a little while) (NSFW)

Gi-hun loses the next game.

Strangely, they don't kill him.

like a good, good dog (NSFW)

"Come on," Thanos — Player 230 — said, "I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. A blind person could see you've been yearning for each other. Don't look at me like that, I'm just doing you both a favor here."

"What did you just say?" Gi-hun asked.

"You heard me. Fuck 001. Or die."

In a Truth or Dare game, Gi-hun landed himself with the most absurd dare. In-ho realized the price of his undercover mission may be higher than he thought when he was getting fucked at his own game. Figuratively and literally.

Alternative Universe where no one gets hurt.

Forgotten Vows (NSFW)

Gi-Hun wakes up with a wedding ring on his finger.

Dirty Business (NSFW)

Gi-hun sucks In-ho’s dick while he watches the chaos unfold.

Facilitated Karma

VIPs kind of get whatever they want, here- so when one of them orders to have Gi-hun for a night, In-ho has to comply.

Gi-hun doesn't get the memo.

All Your Pieces (NSFW)

After the failed rebellion, he dissociates on the Frontman's floor.

pick up your stitches (better than your riches) (NSFW)

Gi-hun just looks at him in silence for a moment, studying his frame intently. “How do you live with yourself?"

“I don’t know.”

When he leans in, it’s slow and deliberate. It’s like he’s showing his hands. Begging Gi-hun to squint and pretend they’re clean.

“You can tell me no,” he reminds him. Miraculously, Gi-hun just nods.

Or: Gi-hun and the Frontman meet after the games are through.

wrap my name across your mouth when i let my feelings down (NSFW)

“You haven’t eaten all day,” In-ho reminds him, a note of desperation in his voice. “Let me feed you, Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun’s eyes are unfocused and bloodshot, he notices. There are dark circles underneath them. In-ho chastises himself for not considering the fact that his companion might be sleep deprived.

“Uh, yeah,” Gi-hun awkwardly rubs at his neck with his right hand. “I could eat.”

in the flow of things

“That’s my fish,” Inho snaps, taking a step closer. His voice echoes through the narrow space, sharp with rage. The man chuckles softly. “I mean… define 'your' fish.” Inho blinks, momentarily stunned by the audacity. “Are you serious? You stole it. You've been stealing my fish.” “Borrowing,” the man corrects, raising his finger. “Relocating is the better word, actually. You keep buying more anyway, so I figured-” “Relocating? Are you serious right now?” Inho's voice rises, disbelief flooding his system. He stalks closer, fists clenched. “You’ve been breaking into my apartment and stealing my fish like it’s some kind of hobby?”

or Five times Inho came home to an empty fishbowl, and the one time he finally caught the culprit.

let's drift away in fits of pleasure (NSFW)

Fronting a secret killing game while also taking place in said game was difficult as expected, but the most unexpected inconvenience was that of sneaking out every night to return to In-ho's office. He resorted to excusing himself to the bathroom for long hours during lights out and hoping the others didn’t bother to ask in the haze of their exhaustion.

It was Gi-hun that pushed the boundaries, as he should have learned to expect these days.

Nightmares

Chapter 1: Gihun gets a nightmare and I Inho takes care of him Chapter 2: Inho gets a nightmare and trys to hide it from Gihun because he thinks he deserves to get them

TO YOUR SWEET NOTHING

"You’re up early,” came the dry, familiar voice of In-ho beside Gi-hun. “Early?” Gi-hun snorted, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s almost nine. You call that early?” In-ho grunted, shifting slightly but making no move to get up. “It is when you’ve spent years sleeping with one eye open,” he murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Or, a soft lazy morning between Inho and Gihun

Would You Still Love Me?

In-ho turned back to his microscope, clearly done with the conversation, but his lips twitched into a smile. “Speaking of worms…” “Oh, please no,” Gi-hun groaned. Nothing sane or understandable ever followed that phrase. “Would you still love me if I were a worm?” “Why are you even asking this?” Gi-hun demanded. “Do you plan on turning into a worm?” His eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh my god, did you sign up for some kind of freaky experiment?”

Or, "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" fic featuring Gi-hun and In-ho!

[kraniumet]

i think image gen can be used like any other artistic tool but I don't really think the big commerical proponents of "ai" are advertising it as a tool, they're adertising it as a solution. I also think it's intellectually dishonest to argue that image generation is exactly like "using photoshop/taking a photograph" because of some generalized "those were also criticized at their conception for being new and scary and disruptive" soundbite. they were not even really criticized for the same reasons. find a better argument.

[vinestaffery]

if I could request something I’d love hc’s on darkheart it’s completely fine if not though I loved ur illumina ones and thought you might be willing to do darkheart:)!

-🩶

darkheart x gender-neutral reader headcanons

content: slight jealousy themes; worshipping elements; romantic headcanons; established relationship; mentions of insecurity of body

authors note: i had actually started this writing a while back, but lost the draft after my computer shut down which caused a major meltdown and pause for me when writing. so sorry for the wait, tried retrieving as much info about the old writing before!

pulling darkheart was something that was completely off of your list. it was strange how such a man could fall for someone like you, but it didn't seem to affect you as much. he was just the same as you, just a few more advancements and such. but, that didn't stop you from loving each and every bit about him. he was so lovable, you couldn't take anyone else other then him repeatedly.

very poetic, but that type of corny poetic, the one where he'd try fluster you but it'd leave you embarrassed and giggling, those are the types of flirts he loves doing around you. hearing your laugh and such just motivates him everyday. he couldn't help but feel proud of himself whenever he got that one smile or laugh out of you just for him being him.

he would always blabber about you to the other deities, sometimes even pissing them off because of how much he just talked about you!! oh he was overjoyed to have you as a partner, i mean, who wouldn't?

he NEVER struggled with affection, unless he wasn't in the certain mood to take it in. but, when hes not in an angry and a type of mood where you'd back off but still cherish his presence, he is the biggest cuddle bear possible. he picks you up, swings you around before embracing you. he were to be acting as if he hasn't seen you after a war! but, it always felt nice to feel him wrap his arms around him and question about your day.

always a gifter, specifically a strange gifter, but you love the little things he sees you in. sometimes, he'd bring you glass-stones or shiny material, it reminded you of a crow! he'd always deliver them by the door whenever he can or window, surprising you with the strangest of gifts. he found it ever so enchanting to see just figments of you in every little tiny thing, settling his interest only on delivering it to you. you have even dedicated this small thing of his to a whole array of ornaments! you just loved his little knick knacks and his lovable, dumb head.

sometimes, you'd play around with him and give him some sort of worshipping-type feeling. it never failed him to fluster or embarrass him, but it all for jokes (nothing sexual) that he tends to do with you! sometimes, he'd worship you in a lovable way, sometimes making the smallest of gestures. but, he does this MOSTLY whenever your insecure of yourself.

you have a tummy? who cares! he loves that shit. you got a small chest and believe you don't represent too much? don't you dare say that! your more then anything! your struggling with some identity issues and crisis's? dont worry, he'll be right there to tell you its completely okay, and that he sees you for who you are. he is so accepting and he'll take that to the grave!

sometimes, he struggles to get some sleep. for some guy, he really doesn't know how sleeping with someone works. sometimes, you can feel his legs tangle with yours, but he'd shy away and apologise. you'd end up tangling yours with his. sometimes, his wings may be the worst case for him, but that doesn't stop you from trying your best to help out.

this guy really likes weight ontop of him (self indulgence here, apologies!!!), so please do whatever you can to give him that weight. you want to just lay on him? go right ahead! he'd love that shit. he'll wrap his arm around you and just hold you close.

a great cook, but also a goofster with it too. sometimes, he'll make the cooking look a bittt funky, but that doesn't stop him from making the gourmet dishes. but, sometimes, he may make something thats... a bit strange. not to recall, that one kitchen incident you both had once!

i know i said this with illumina's one, but he would also do the one where he'd put his chin on your head and relax. he does this mostly to peeve off other robloxians that may interact with you. he doesn't do this because he's jealous (he does) but mostly to tell everyone that YOU are HIS! you are his for keeping!

corny nicknames!!! sometimes you call him your goober and he calls you his little shmoopy. he is always keen on other nicknames, but shmoopy is such a heart resonator for you and him. sometimes, he says it in public and it's the only way to catch your attention.

i hope these were good enough!! i was a bit tired but otherwise, i hope you enjoyed these..!!

[sixeyescurseuser]

《a quiet place》

Growing up deaf was as difficult as one could imagine, considering Geto’s parents weren’t aware of or had access to the resources to accommodate his disability.

Hearing people - the teachers or kids his age - didn’t have the most patience either. They treated him like he was dumb when he's actually so incredibly bright, just as smart as anyone else! Bullies would sneak up and scare the shit out of him. Others simply pretended he didn’t exist. 

It was hard making connections when no one communicated like Geto did.

After time, Geto made peace with his situation. He mostly kept to himself, nose buried in his books or playing outside, befriending nature’s little creatures instead. Geto’s parents thought speaking quickly would prevent him from reading their lips, but he still knew they had wished for a normal child who didn’t have his “issues.”

Thus, Geto was used to people approaching him at first sight. He was also used to them leaving him alone after realizing he couldn’t hear. After graduating from high school, it was an easy decision to leave his small hometown and attend university in the big city. 

Here, Geto has managed to make a total of two friends, Haibara and Yuki, who always invite him to do normal college kid things!

Presently, Geto finds himself dancing in the club with his friends, moving along to the pulsing vibrations of the music. They stop at the bar for more drinks or water, and that's when the bartender places a drink in front of Geto despite him not ordering anything?

It's a pink drink with a little umbrella, and Geto can only make out the "mocktail" and "guy over there" from reading the bartender's lips. Geto looks over to see a head full of striking white hair and a face adorning obsidian-black shades.

/Good evening/, the stranger casually signs.

(Geto inside: "HUH??")

Geto is too shocked to sign anything back. He’s stuck looking between the drink and the stranger whose gaze is entirely too piercing, even from behind the shades.

The stranger frowns, points at the drink he ordered for Geto.

/Not to your taste? I can drink it instead. It's raspberry-flavored./ The white-haired man signs with minimal pauses, eyebrows furrowed as if he's actually concerned about the flavor choice for Geto.

Here we introduce Gojo Satoru, physics and engineering double major, who picks up random skills like they’re digimon, and sign language happened to be one of them.

Thank heavens he did because Geto Suguru has been on his radar for a few months now. They share a social science course together and Gojo has always taken aback by how articulate Geto was. It certainly helped that Geto was stunning with his silky, jet-black locks and sly, amber-colored eyes. 

And, well, Geto's always in the same spot in the library. Gojo was bound to notice how majestic he looked studying with his hair pulled back into a bun, tapping away at his computer.

Gojo felt an instant pull to Geto but never worked up the nerve to approach him.

Until now, when they’re sitting across from each other at this random bar on a Sunday night. (It helps that Gojo has been planning to make a move for months. Simp.)

Geto finally processes the fact that this white-haired man is full-on signing to him. It’s too good to be true. Perhaps they can become friends, where they can talk through Geto’s language, for once!

Geto moves over to Gojo’s side of the bar, plopping down in the seat beside him. They end up spending the rest of their night together, making small but intimate talk. Geto leaves with Gojo's number in his phone and a text from him expressing how much he enjoyed the night thanks to Suguru. 

After that night, they text each other nonstop. And when they're not texting, they're doing something together: studying, going on walks, eating out. 

Geto is addicted to Gojo’s corny cat memes. Maybe to the daily selfies Gojo sends too, where Gojo says he’s “blessing Suguru’s eyes.” He has no idea how true that is for Geto. 

(Geto saves those photos for ... research purposes.)

It’s safe to say that Geto finds Gojo soooo incredibly hot - his face, his mannerisms, his mind. Gojo never fails to include Geto, whether by putting captions with his presentations or signing while he talks. He even used his connections to set up a JSL club for their university. 

Geto insistently denies his crush, but Haibara and Yuki know better. They see the way Geto’s entire face lights up when he receives messages from Gojo during their movies nights. 

It does not help that whenever Gojo and Geto’s friend groups hang out together, the pair are sooo touchy and sweet with each other. Gojo could be telling a story, and his eyes would always flicker to Suguru's, signing the important bits for emphasis. 

Geto is enthralled, shooting Gojo heart eyes that are so obvious to everyone else. They are clearly flirting. Some of it also happens to be Gojo just being himself and Geto finding himself wooed. (Again, Geto would never admit - out loud or silently.)

While Geto does prefer to sign to communicate, one of the few words he loves speaking is actually Gojo’s first name. He says it so often, it’s practically muscle memory.

Gojo is astonished to hear Suguru speak with the dialect distinct from his hometown as well as with a slight lisp. He makes Geto repeat his name three to four times until Suguru playfully flicks his forehead to get him to stop. 

Their first kiss is probably in the library, Gojo finally able to sit next to Geto while he studies. Surprisingly, it’s Geto who has given up on hopes of studying any longer. It’s easy enough to grab Satoru’s attention with a wave, casually signing an existential question of, /Do you think parallel universes exist?/

The pair calmly sign back and forth, sharing secret smiles, and thighs pressed together from how close they sit. After finishing a few games of footsies, Gojo being the sore loser, he pulls Geto against his chest and kisses the top of his head. Geto is starstruck, feels so warm and gooey inside.

That's when the casual kisses on the head, forehead, and cheek start between them.

Gojo is too hesitant to kiss Suguru directly. Doesn't want to read too much into things because he gets attached easily, and this thing with Suguru is more than he could ever ask for.

Meanwhile, Geto is going through all the ways to make Satoru break and /kiss./ him/.

Gojo sometimes sleeps over too so they end up sharing Geto's bed. Their littol hearts beat in-sync at 200 beats per minute. Geto is worried because he does not know if a heartbeat is something others can hear. Maybe if it beats too fast, it’s like a purring sound?

Unacceptable. He forces his heart to calm down because he cannot let Satoru know how crazy he is about him. Steam is gonna blow out of his ears from how hard he's concentrating and overthinking. Gojo pauses when he looks over to see how red Suguru's cheeks are.

/Hey/, Gojo signs to get Geto's attention. When Geto slowly locks eyes with him, Gojo reaches over to place the back of his hand against Geto's forehead. Using his opposite hand, Gojo signs, /Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed./

/I'm fine! I'm fine/! Geto signs while smacking Gojo's hand away.

Stay still, my beating heart, Geto thinks frantically.

Alas, Geto fails to see that whenever Gojo enters the room, the first person he looks for is Geto. Even if there are others calling his name, Gojo's eyes search for Suguru’s warm amber ones. Geto is so happy because someone notices him first despite him not being able to call for their attention - Satoru is always looking at him.

Until the day Gojo shows up for a group hangout, a girl pulls him into conversation before he can make his way over. Geto knows by her body language and how close she gets to Satoru that she's hoping to win his affections tonight.

Geto wilts a little. Maybe... maybe Satoru wasn't coming over as soon as Geto thought he was.

Geto goes to find Haibara or Yuki, deciding to give Satoru time alone with the girl.

Not even five minutes later, Gojo appears, lightly tapping Geto's shoulder to get his attention from behind. Regardless of what conspired, Geto offers a warm smile, and happily bumps his shoulder against Gojo's chest. 

They're in the bar and restaurant section of an arcade. Their group is together now, always making sure to include Geto in their conversations. When Geto’s friends suggest going into the arcade, Gojo stands up and begins to go along.

Before Geto can stop himself, he puts a hand on Satoru's chest and signs, /What about that girl?/

Gojo blinks at him blankly. 

/What girl?/ he signs back. Geto's eyebrows knit together. Is Satoru being dumb on purpose??

/The one you were talking to before you joined us,/ Geto signs with a sigh, his movements getting lazy due to his anxiety. /Did you want to spend more time with her?/

Gojo's eyes widen in realization, and then he's rapidly shaking his head.

/What?? Why would I?/ Gojo asks. He looks bewildered, in a sense, and Geto is feeling self-conscious enough as it is because why did his stupid brain have to ask questions??

Geto shrugs helplessly, then signs, /She didn't interest you?/ 

Gojo's face breaks out into an amused smile.

/Suguru, I already have someone I'm interested in./

What...?

And that's when Geto's heart shatters into a million pieces.

/WHO?/ Geto signs with a sweeping gesture.

Gojo's hands pause mid-air, freezing upon the directness of Geto's question.

When he doesn't answer for a long moment, Geto swallows thickly, and pushes down his guilt, his yearning, and his pride.

/Never mind. It's none of my business,/ Geto signs quickly, then turns on his heel and flees.

Against his better judgement, risking one more look at the man his heart belongs to, Geto chances a look over his shoulder. Geto's met with the sight of Gojo barreling into him, arms wrapping around Geto so tightly like he never plans to let him go.

Vibrations against his skin indicate Satoru's talking, but Geto can't understand a word. An apology? An explanation?

"Sssatoru...?" Geto says, feeling the raspiness of his voice from the lack of use. 

In response, Gojo pulls back just enough so he can use one hand to point to Suguru.

"/You. It's //you.//" Gojo says and signs. Geto's still a little lost, eyes flickering between the finger jabbed towards him and Satoru's earnest expression.

/Me?/ Geto signs and mouths silently. Gojo nods once, eyes holding an intensity that Geto realizes he must have been too afraid to truly see.

Gojo sadly retracts the other hand that was on Geto's waist so he can sign, /I didn't want that girl, or any other person, because the only one I want is /you./ 

Geto audibly gasps, his heart feeling like it's ceased beating completely. Is this real life? Did Satoru really... feel the same way?

/You are my person, understand?/ Gojo finishes signing, eagerly awaiting Geto's reply. (He signs so passionately that his hands are making slapping sounds.) Along with his facial expressions, Geto gets the point instantly. 

/I feel the same,/ Geto signs back, happy tears gathering in his eyes. /You are my person too./

Geto surges up to hug Satoru close, giggling when Satoru obnoxiously rubs his face in the crook of Geto's neck. Geto's breath hitches when Satoru also peppers kisses along his skin, feeling ten times more intimate after their confessions.

Nestled in the dim hallway, where no one else lingers nearby, Geto says the two words he’s been yearning to say for a while now. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers, because Satoru cannot see his hands at the moment. Without further adieu, Gojo cups Geto's cheek and softly presses their lips together. He also gently presses Geto against the wall, leaving not a single space where their bodies are not touching. 

Geto's heart soars within his chest. He's so happy! All of Geto's senses are 100% tuned into the way Satoru kisses and holds him. Even closes his eyes because without sight and sound, Geto knows he trusts Satoru with his life. 

It's pure bliss. 

He can't hear the way Gojo is making pleased noises, or how their lips moving together have a wet sound that drive Gojo insane. But Gojo can, and he savors everything. He loves any sound Suguru unknowingly makes too. His satisfied sighs, the way he gasps or his breath hitches, even the faint moans that slip past Suguru's lips. 

Gojo swallows all of them. 

Later on, Gojo finds he loves to whisper dirty things to Geto in public. He knows his boyfriend’s shudders are just because of the sensations on his ear but it satisfies Gojo to no end. 

Plus, the couple will sign the most inappropriate things to each other in public because practically no one can understand. For example, Geto signs that he wants Satoru to fuck him against the wall when they get home.

One of Gojo's friends: "What did your boyfriend say?"

Gojo, clearing his throat: "Um, that he wants soba for dinner."

Gojo signing to Geto: /I'll do whatever you want, baby/

Geto: ☺️

A few months later, they're sharing Geto's bed cuddled like two sleepy cats together. Geto has a leg thrown over Satoru's hips, where Satoru has been tapping his thigh in a repetitive pattern over and over again. It's nowhere near the first time Satoru has done so, but Geto snaps his fingers to get Satoru's attention - who was previously scrolling on his phone.

/What does it mean?/ Geto asks. Upon Gojo's confused expression, Geto gestures to Gojo's hand on his thigh, fingers continuing their tapping motion.

/It's morse code. It means.../ Gojo pauses, tapping out the full message, slower this time. /I love you./

Geto's eyes soften, and he scoots closer until their faces are mere centimeters apart.

"Teach me," Geto breathes out against Gojo’s lips.

And so he does. 

They’ll never stop coming up with ways to say “I love you.”

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[nastyburger]

Please say more about the awful Asian designs in Danny Phantom. I'm not Asian but I'd love to have a rundown on the elements that make them offensive so I can avoid and critique those elements in other works. And also you deserve to speak your mind about it

im gonna mostly talk about southeast asian designs since thats what i am and the most familiar with and also what i feel are the show's worst transgression with their casual depictions. tw for racist imagery im gonna link pictures.

there's not much to say about the designs aside from, you know, everything but things to note are the unnatural yellow tone for the skin and closed slanted eyes. veggie burger (fan name for the bg character in the middle) also suffers from the huge nose that sometimes shows up in racist depictions. the straight edge/cut hair as well is somewhat stereotypical. this one isn't as bad but in conjunction with everything else its not ideal. i will give the smallest molecule of credit that at the very least dp never gave any of these bg characters buck teeth.

some depictions are better than others, but theres still missteps happening in one aspect or another. kwan's eyes in a lot of shots/episodes can be too skinny and even too slanted, the girl in the middle is almost perfect but her skin is too yellow (she looks kinda okay on my computer screen but i remember when watching dp on my tv she looked real brightly yellow), and principle ishiyama (who was weirdly forgotten about pretty early on in the show and was replaced by lancer doing most of the school stuff despite not being principle?? which is a whole other issue with how dp treats its poc characters) the same usual notes about the slanted eyes but also the upturned nose is pretty reminiscent of racist japanese art during ww2. again it is not the worst way to draw a nose but combined with everything else in this show's depiction of asian characters its not great, they are on thin ice man.

not to mention, principle ishiyama is the only character here with brown eyes. this is a problem that extends to all poc characters in dp and to my knowledge i think ishiyama might be the only one with them tbh. this is, again, a whole other issue though.

i think the thing that bothers me most about these designs though is that dp is very clearly aware that these depictions are bad. the only difference between the first set of characters and the second is one singular thing: they have a clear speaking role.

suddenly when theyre not stock background characters, dp knows how to act when drawing them. i cannot for the life of me find the image of it, but the last jock guy in the first set gets a speaking role in reign storm (he's cosplaying phantom) and he is drawn with proper open eyes! (theyre also blue but whatever) it just makes me sad that this was a clear choice they made.

the show also went in a different direction in the final product, but early development stuff was really drawing from a lot of japanese/asian influences like danny was originally gonna have a motorcycle (pulling from ghost in the shell) and was even referenced in the show via the akira motorcycle reference (which i once again, for the life of me, cannot find. danny took johnny 13's motorcycle and did the classic akira slide i think it was in million dollar ghost?? idk whichever one where the giw are trying to blow up the ghost zone). danny's name was originally gonna be jackie, named after jackie chan, this i assume was given to jack fenton afterwards. and i think the show having a more martial arts direction with the action was also gonna be a thing? that one could be wrong dont quote me on that, there was an episode where danny and vlad have like a weird ninja fight though im pretty sure.

either way my point here is that they wanted to pull from all these influences and it was prominent enough during development that they sprinkle references to it throughout the show and yet their portrayal and treatment of asian characters in the show is so abysmal it just feels Bad™, you know? i cant really put it more eloquently than that, like its very take and no give with it.

it overall just puts a bad taste in my mouth, and its sad that it still affects people years later. like i mentioned in the tags of the post that started this discussion with that whole old trend of putting yourself into the bg of dp screenshots, i felt alienated by that. and its not the people who participated's fault obviously but most of the people i saw participating were white fans (going off of how they drew themselves) and it made me a bit mad that they were able to enjoy the style of the show in a more carefree manner than i ever could. i didnt want to ruin anyone's fun obviously, but a small part of me wanted to bring to light how i wasnt on equal ground with them in that situation.

[sunlightandsuffering]

I'm not sure if this is long enough for me to bother posting it as a chapter, BUT MORE SACRILEGE FOR THE PPL AND BC THEY'RE SO CUTE AND UNHINGED !!

Does Eren feel great about corrupting the local church’s youth group leader and shining example of chastity? No, not really, in fact, his mother would probably murder him for it if she ever found out. 

But in the meantime, he’s sure stories of his ‘new girlfriend’ and possible marriage prospect will mollify her.

Or at least he hopes so, but regardless, that is the least of Eren’s problems. His biggest problem is the pain in the ass cadet he’s been assigned as a partner for the last week and a half of Armin’s paternity leave and said local churchgoing sweetheart’s ex-boyfriend. All in all, Eren has embroiled himself in a plot quite fitting for the church. He can see the headline now, ‘Local Cop Seduces Innocent Church Girl, Leaves Hopeful Cadet Destitute’.

“I hate him,” Jean is muttering darkly from Armin’s desk across from him, fidgeting with his pen in agitation. If only Jean knew that Eren is the ‘him’ he’s referring to. Instead, he’s simply been subjected to a singular break up text, and several quotes about the bible and forgiveness splashed across Mikasa’s instagram story. 

If Eren weren’t in the middle of it he’d find the entire plot amusing, but he doesn’t want Jean to become more irritating than he already is. 

The rhythmic click, click, click of Jean’s pen clicking is what finally sets Eren over the edge. “Leave your personal shit at home, Kirstchein, we have a job to do and that paperwork isn’t going to complete itself.” Jean looks like a kicked puppy as he turns back towards his paperwork, appropriately chastised by his superior, and for a split second Eren almost feels bad for the man. 

But then Mikasa sends him a nude, and he doesn’t feel so bad for the asshole anymore. 

Shoving his phone into one of the many deep pockets of his standard-issue cargo pants Eren stands up, imposing compared the heartbroken cadet in front of him.

“We have shit to do Kirschtein, we’ve got a drug bust in an hour and you’re fucking moping. Get it together.” 

Jean glowers for a moment before booting up his now sleeping computer again and Eren sighs, heading towards the break room to grab a snack, he truly does not get paid enough for this shit. 

How old is he? Seventeen? Because that’s the kind of teenaged nonsense he’s dealing with from his cadet, it’s ridiculous. He grumbles mostly to himself as he snatches a pre-packaged rice krispy treat from the communal bowl on the counter, this is how bad it is, he’s actually fucking eating carbs and sugary ones at that. Whereas Eren is typically infamous for following his regimented diet, continually topping the leaderboards at every physical training camp, Jean’s drama has stressed him out so much that he’s actually fucking eating sugar. 

Eren tears the blue wrapper apart with his teeth before ripping into the sweet treat with dark intent, stupid fucking cadets and overdramatic church girls. Stocking back into the main office space Eren promises himself no more bullshit, from here one it’s police work only. He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this shit on the job. He’s about to give Jean another lecture, hoping this time it’ll stick, but as he approaches their desk clump he finds Jean on his phone, a looking of absolute betrayal on his face. “Jean what the fuck are you looking at I thought I said–” Eren snatches the phone from his hands only to find Mikasa’s god-damned Instagram story. The cute little icon of her face lighting up the corner of the screen along with a large pink background and some sort of cursive looking font splashed across the screen. “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”

James 1:5

Fuck. The pink image switches as the story runs out, and suddenly the screen is black, lit up with pink writing as another bible verse is proudly proclaimed across her story. 

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Psalms 37:4

The screen changes again and Eren groans, handing the phone back to Jean who can only be describes as looking utterly betrayed. His pain in the ass little churchgoer has been posting passive-aggressive bible verses on her story all morning from the looks of it, splashes across her social media in varying shades of pink. 

Eren checks his own phone curiously, only to find there’s another notification from said little churchgoer, and from the looks of it, it’s probably another nude. 

God what the fuck has he gotten himself into. “I’m sorry Eren, I just - I can’t, we were together for four years! She was going to give me her virginity, we were going to be each other’s firsts.” Eren winces at that particular comment, because he’d taken Mikasa’s virginity rather spiritedly on the altar of their church, had actually fucked the lord right out of her he’d like to think. Although, judging by the mess of bible verses painted across her social media, there’s at least a little bit of religious insanity left in her. “I have to make a call,” Eren tells Jean abruptly, leaving the cadet to wallow, “Get your shit together by the time I come back.” 

Eren barely makes it outside the precinct before he’s holding the phone to his ear, Mikasa’s number dialed already and ringing insistently. 

She answers on the third ring, sounding breathless, “Eren–” “The bible verses Mikasa? Really?” He’s utterly exasperated and he’s sure she can tell by the way she sighs on the other end of the line, “I just think it’s important that the rest of my community knows that breaking up with Jean was God’s will Eren.” “Mikasa I fucked you on the altar okay, that wasn’t God’s will, I was horny and that was good fucking weed.” He can practically feel her scowl on the other end of the line, “God never gives us more than we can handle Eren, and now I have my ring, it was all his will. The congregation just needs to understand that, and so does my youth group.”

“You couldn’t just tell them you found someone else?” 

Mikasa gasps in affront over the line, “He gave me a promise ring Eren, it’s highly frowned upon within the community to rescind commitment so easily.” 

“You rescinded it pretty easily for me.”

“Because I knew God sent you to me, to put me on the right path.” “You’re absolutely unhinged, you know that, right?” There's silence for a moment, and then there's a breathier quality to her voice as she taunts him,“I’m also not wearing panties.”

“Did God tell you not to?” Eren quips right back, and Mikasa chuckles throatily on the other end of the line, “Can you come home on your lunch break?” 

Eren glances at the clock, cursing at the time, he’s spent far too long talking to his pain in the ass girlfriend. “No, I have to get back now, stop posting bible verses on your story and keep looking at your other university options Mika, I want you to get in on time.” At this, he can feel her wilt through the phone, she’s been stressed as hell since her falling out with her parents and subsequent break up with Jean. As a consequence she no longer has a full ride scholarship to Shiganshina bible college and she’s been stressed about schooling ever since.  Not that Eren had any desire to encourage that particular path of schooling, but he doesn’t want to derail her entire life, doesn’t want to be the mistake she looks back on as the reason she doesn’t have a career or didn’t go to college. 

Since accidentally stealing Jean’s girlfriend Eren has found he more than cares about the religious spitfire, might even love her, just a little. She may be unhinged as all hell, and devout to the point of delusion, but at heart, she’s a good person, if not a brat. His girlfriend had just been a little… misguided. 

She’d worked hard to get into nursing school, and Eren will be damned if he’s the reason she doesn’t get into another one. “Baby,” He intones and Mikasa sighs loudly, “Fine, I’ll work on my cover letter again.” He catches himself as a smile quirks at his lips, “Stop sending me nudes and send me the rough draft, I’ll look at it after my drug bust.” “Oh my God, you’re so boring.” “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain Mikasa,” He sing songs, and she growls on the other end of the line before hanging up. Maybe God really doesn’t give people more than they can handle, who is to say? Whatever, Eren doesn’t believe in any of that bullshit anyway. He turns back towards the precinct, phone tucked into his pants, “Kirschtein you’d better not still be mooning over that crazy religious nut you call an ex-girlfriend.” 

He is so totally going to hell. 

She shows up at around dinner time, eight hours into his twelve-hour shift, and firmly destroying any hopes of having a peaceful Wednesday night catching up on paperwork. 

She’s balanced delicately on the edge of his desk, glowering at Jean like he’s the one who’s wronged her. 

And even at eleven on a Wednesday night, she’s scantily clad, dressed in ripped jeans and a low cut scoop-neck sweater that catches Eren’s attention immediately. Because just like the first time he met her, her cleavage is eye-catching, his girlfriend’s tits are the stuff of wet dreams, the kind of breasts you show to plastic surgeons as inspo pics. 

And Jean is fucking staring at them. 

Was Mikasa Jean’s girlfriend first? Yes, yes she definitely was, and he has no doubt that despite her previous virginal status that Jean has ample experience with her rack. Doesn’t stop Eren from being pissed off that his douche canoe cadet is staring at his girlfriend’s rack. 

Jean is looking at her with simply too much interest, lust shining in his eyes as he looks her up and down, unable to look away from the plump milky tops of her breasts. 

Eren won’t have it. 

They’re arguing as he approaches them, half-assed insults on Jean’s part and scathing words from Mikasa that have Eren biting back a grin. 

“You’re a boy Jean, I needed a man, and God finally sent him to me.” This is Eren’s cue to make an entrance, and he sure does, barely sparing Jean a glance, instead wrapping a hand around Mikasa’s waist, blocking Jean’s view of her lithe little body. Without an ounce of hesitation, Eren dips his head into a low bow, worshipful as he places a kiss on each breast, wet, sloppy and leaving a sheen of saliva in his wake. Mikasa squeaks at the contact, not expecting the touch, and at her sweet little noise he can’t help but press one more loving kiss to the creamy flesh, his hands skating up over her waist to give her beautiful tits a squeeze. It’s quick, fleeting, just enough to make her smile turn dopey, eyes fogging over with desire, and he’s sure her sweet nipples are hard already, wants nothing more than to kiss her tits all day, but alas he has things to do. He completes his greeting with a kiss to her lips, long and slow with plenty of tongue, a hello that has Mikasa sighing into his mouth, melting in his arms. When he finally pulls back she is utterly dazed, his sweet little church girl the picture of debauchery, lips swollen with his kisses, and her sweater now slightly askew. Eren doesn’t acknowledge Jean at all as he greets her, one last squeeze to her hip as he gets her settled against his desk, “Hi baby.” This is what finally causes Jean to explode. 

“Baby? Mikasa this is the man you’re dating?” Eren glances back at him curiously, lying through his teeth as he asks, “Problem Kirschtein?” As if he didn’t steal the little spitfire right out from under his useless cadet.

Mikasa continues to say nothing, looking up at Eren adoringly and finally Jean snaps, gesturing towards the little pixie in his arms, “Eren, this is my ex-girlfriend.” “The one who dumped you for a better guy?” Jean growls in irritation, “That’s the one.” 

Eren shrugs, pressing his cheek against the soft strands of her hair, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent, “Oops.” Jean looks like he’s about to commit murder in the middle of the precinct but Eren is unconcerned, only tugs Mikasa a little bit closer, “Sorry cadet, it just kind of happened.” 

“How?” Jean grits out and Mikasa answers for him this time, snapping out of her kiss-induced daze, “Jean I told you I wasn’t feeling fulfilled in our relationship, it wasn’t what the lord wanted for me. But Eren–” She turns to look up at him lovingly, “He’s what I need, I just know it.” 

“What exactly is it that you need that I can’t provide, Mikasa?” A firm fucking hand that’s what but Eren refrains from that particular comment, knowing it will start world war three when he would much rather leave in a few hours. 

Mikasa reaches out at that, taking Jean’s hand, looking up at him so seriously, Eren would almost think that God was speaking through her, if he believed in God that is. “Guidance,” She tells Jean firmly, and Eren has to hold back a laugh because yeah, sexual guidance maybe, how the fuck did he end up in bed with this crazy little lunatic?

“What about our pastor, what about our parents–” “Shh,” Mikasa quiets Jean, “My decision has been made, and I made it in the eyes of the lord,” she spares a glance back at Eren that secretive little smile on her face, and he almost groans, because they sure did fucking make that decision in the eyes of the lord, right in front of his fucking salad actually, front and centre, no escape. 

Jean is looking at them both in complete and utter affront, a vein standing out prominently on his forehead, “Adultery is a sin you know.” Mikasa scoffs, “So is pride Jean, now if you would be so kind as to swallow yours I would like to spend the last ten minutes of my fiancée’s break with him.” This proves to be the wrong thing to say because Jean gasps, “There’s no way he’s going to marry you Mikasa, Officer Yeager doesn’t seem like the committed type.” 

Mikasa levels a murderous glare at his cadet and Eren continues to enjoy the show, smoothing a hand over her hip to keep the little heathen from leaping over their desks to claw his eyes out. “We’ve already set a date,” Mikasa tells him primly, before turning her back to his cadet dismissively. She’s pouting now as she looks up at him, her hand clutched in the folds of his uniform just a little too tightly for her to be totally okay. 

Eren presses a light kiss to her forehead before leaning down to her ear, a playful nip to the lobe before he suggests they take a breather, “You wanna hang out in my patrol car for the rest of my break.” She nods, leaning into him a little more, pressing the full weight of her delicate little body against him, “Yeah, I’d like that.” Eren leads her out by the elbow, Jean still fuming behind them, and fuck he knows exactly what he’s going to have to deal with later and it’s not good.

But something occurs to him as they edge out the doors of the precinct, keys jingling in his hand, “Mikasa, baby?” “Yeah?” She turns back, the picture-perfect scene of beauty, her hair falling in silky waves down her back, stunning as ever with that pretty face, and her tits trying to steal all his attention. “Did the Lord tell you to wear panties with that little outfit?” A mischievous smile blooms on her face before she’s sprinting towards his car, her reply caught in the wind of the night, “No!” 

Fucking bratty church girls, now he has to fuck her in his patrol car, it’s just good sense.

[fruitsoxs]

New Year's Kiss

pairing(s); Gale x (GN)reader summary; You somehow end up kissing your rival at midnight OR you seriously misinterpret the vibes Gale is giving off (modern au) warning(s); reader is a dumbass, they are so bad at understanding social ques, Gale can't flirt, this is mostly fluff wordcount; 1.8k notes; this was beta read by both @linklebard and my partner! i couldn't have done it with out them <;33

You never really liked parties. They were often too loud and too crowded. You hate being forced to socialize with other people. You’re definitely an introvert, and when given the choice would rather stay at home. You especially hate work parties though. Not only do you have to talk to people, but these people are your peers. Your educated, rude peers that have an “I’m better than you” outlook on life. The hardest part about work parties? You can’t escape them. Unless you are on your deathbed, you HAVE to attend. It’s an anxiety fueled nightmare

That is exactly how you ended up at your university’s New Year’s party. 

You grip the champagne glass with so much vigor that it may just explode in your hands. People around you are talking, creating a sea of noise which threatens to drown you. Face a little pale, you slowly raise the drink up to your lips and sip. The liquid does little to help you unwind, but it serves as your life vest on this treacherous adventure. Without it in your hands you’d just be standing there awkwardly amongst your peers. 

The party is being held in the Performing Arts center, in a large room adorned with gold  decorations and giant pillars. In the center there is a live band playing. A jazz band whose music should be relaxing, but in this environment it only adds to the stress. Many people are dressed in their finest clothing, showing off their expensive brands. You opted for something a little more simple, but elegant nonetheless. You’ve done your best to look presentable, but you can’t deny the fact you struggled to force yourself off your computer for this event. Despite it being winter break, you’re working relentlessly to put together a research paper that will HAVE to pull in grants.

You’d much rather be putting all of your energy into that than standing here awkwardly at the party. You need to work hard in order to draw in the attention of benefactors, especially with that certain someone who always seems to be fighting with you for the same grants. It wouldn't be such an issue if the man didn’t beat you almost every time. It was only recently that you lost against him after presenting what you thought was your best work. It didn’t even seem to be a fight in the end, his project was chosen without a second thought. You worked your ass off day and night to perfect every inch of that proposal, and in the end you were left with nothing. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” A voice rings out beside you, pulling you from your solitude. When you look over you are met with the big brown eyes of the coworker you were just thinking about. Gale Dekarios, the most annoyingly smart person you know. The one who you are constantly butting heads with, and the person you can safely say you hate the most. The worst part about him? He always seems to be correct in a way you can’t refute. He’s wickedly smart, with looks that match. You don’t think there’s a single soul who would describe him as anything but handsome.  It’s utterly unfair. Despite your harsh feelings for the man, he always seems to worm his way into your thoughts

“I think you may have misread the email then, Professor Dekarios. The word required was used more than a couple of times.” You answer, crossing your free arm over the one holding your drink. You would know, you were the one in charge of sending out that email. He lets out a soft chuckle and nods. “I happen to thoroughly read every email I get, especially the ones I get from you. I just figured you’d skip out on the festivities seeing as the word “required” doesn’t always guarantee your attendance, Professor.” He points out, taking a sip of his own drink.  

While he’s not wrong, you don’t appreciate the way he says it. Everything sounds so sassy coming from his mouth. It feels like a slight on your attendance to these ordeals, or like he’s comparing himself to you. There’s no doubt in your mind that he shows up to every single one of these events. They seem like something he would enjoy. You, on the other hand, do like to skip out on parties, even when they are technically required to go to. The reason behind you playing hooky though, is the man in front of you. He’s always somehow one upping you, making it so you have to work extra hard to earn any amount of attention. And while you could earn that attention by attending these parties, and schmoozing up to the department leaders, you’d much rather gain attention by doing good work. Besides, you’ve never been all that great at networking. 

“I do value my job, you know.” you snap, clearly angered by what he said. It is all his fault after all. If he wasn’t so goddamn competent at his job, you might be able to relax every once in a while. 

He doesn’t seem phased by your anger, simply nods along. “Ah yes, and how lucky are we to have you here. One of the finest Historians I know.” 

‘But never the best’ You think bitterly, sipping your champagne again. You find yourself thinking back to those late nights, scrolling through Rate My Professor to compare your scores. Despite your best effort, he always seems to have the most positive reviews. The students love him, the faculty love him. It seems he will always be better than you, no matter what he is doing.

You intend to end the conversation there, but it seems Gale has other plans. Always the sociable one, he opens his mouth again. “It does seem like you’ve been much more engrossed in your work lately. Planning anything big?” he asks, genuinely curious about your work. However, you have never been good at social cues. Thinking he’s making fun of you, you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Professor” you snap.

He always seems to be trying to gawk at your work. For what? You aren’t sure. Every chance he gets he’s asking what your most recent project is. Sometimes he even asks to view your lesson plans for classes, which always pisses you off. What right does he have inserting himself into your work? Not only that, but what intentions does he have? There’s no way he’s trying to help you, right?

He holds his hands up in feign surrender. “Alright, No need to get snappy. I'm just curious. Who would I be if I was not interested in my colleague’s work?” he asks, offering you a smile. 

You really have no idea what to make of this guy. You’ve always hated conversing with him, because it genuinely feels like he has some secret motive behind his kind words and smiles. He has to be making fun of you for something. There is no other explanation. At least not in your mind. Still, maybe you are being too harsh. You let your glare fall, and give him a small nod. You shift your eye over to the clock. Only five minutes to midnight, which means it’s almost time for you to go home. 

Your eyes go back to Gale, who is still by your side sipping his drink happily. Why is he still next to you? Doesn’t he have some other poor soul to chat to? You open your mouth to voice this, but he cuts you off by clearing his throat. 

“The music is rather lovely today, is it not?” he asks you, avoiding eye contact as if he’s nervous. 

What? Why is he talking to you about the music? You seriously don’t understand this man’s intentions with you at all. Is he trying to get you to lower your guard so he can learn all your secrets? No…he’s much too smart to need to do that. He goes above and beyond, relying purely on his brain alone. He would never commit messy tricks to get what he wants. You arch an eyebrow at him, and look over at the band. They’re playing a pleasant tune.

“I guess.” you mumble.

“And the decorations are nice!”

“It’s a little cheesy.” 

“Perhaps, but cheesy isn’t always bad.” 

You take another sip of your drink, realizing it’s growing quite empty. Well, It’s only three minutes until midnight, You can survive with what you have.  You start to get comfortable with the silence, before Gale starts to speak again. “You know we are probably the smartest people in our department. How would you-” You cut him off this time, utterly confused as to why he’s STILL talking to you. “Don’t you have someone else you’d like to talk to?” you ask with complete sincerity. He seems a little taken aback by your question, his smile disappearing for a small second. Within a few moments it’s back on his face though. “No. I actually quite enjoy talking to you.”

Two minutes until midnight.

You’re stunned. What does he mean? You feel your cheeks heat up despite yourself. You clutch onto your drink a little more intensely. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I enjoy talking to you. You are great company and I-” he cuts himself off.

One minute.

“You?”

He clears his throat, his face turning a bit pink. He then turns to you, taking a deep breath. You expect him to say something, but this time he’s quiet. He just waits for a moment. Once the clock strikes midnight, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him. He does it slowly, giving you time to move away if you want. You find yourself wanting whatever he is doing though, a flame lighting up inside you. Carefully his lips meet yours, and the room disappears.

The kiss only lasts for a moment, but you can feel the fireworks light up inside you.

“I quite like you.” he admits after pulling away, his face inches from yours. Unsure how to respond, you reach up and kiss him again. This time the kiss lasts a few seconds longer. His lips are warm, a little dry, but so pleasant against yours. When you pull away, he’s smiling again. “I’ll take it, you feel the same?” he asks.

You nod shyly. 

“Good. Now, might I propose something that I meant to ask earlier? Would you be willing to do a joint proposal with me?”

How could you possibly say anything but yes?

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! do u have any recommendations on fics that are corporate/work human aus?

Thanks!

Hi! Here are some office worker AUs...

When God Closes a Door… by wyrmy (T)

Aziraphale is a burnt out salesperson, stuck in a boring job selling sliding doors for a wildly incompetent boss. The highlight of his work day is a man he is fascinated by but has never met in person, Anthony Crowley, the sexy purchaser who buys doors for another company. Can two small cogs in two large machines somehow defy their bosses and find love?

Critical Upgrade (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tech) by Kirathaune (T)

Modern Office AU: Aziraphale likes his vintage computer equipment, but it's causing problems with his colleagues. Gabriel mandates an upgrade, and Crowley from IT is assigned to make it all work.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T)

Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

House Style by soft_october (M)

“Since that's all settled, the real question is did he give you his number?” Anathema laughed. “He was looking at you the way you look at lunch.” “Forget lunch!” Michael declared. “He was looking at you the way you were looking at him!” Aziraphale is content in his job as an editor at Celestial Publishing, though he could go for a bit less of doing his boss' job for him. But everything goes a bit screwy when the CEO brings in a consultant with plans to build a program that will turn the entire editorial department on its head. If only he wasn't so handsome

Butterflies in a Bell Jar by Still_Not_King (T)

Arthur “Zira” Fell and Anthony J. Crowley both work for the same company in London, a big office building for Ethereal™ Investments. Crowley is in IT, which is good because his favorite coworker’s husband is kind of a mess with computers, plus his office-mate Zira is fricking adorable. Of course, then Zira finally joins Newt and Anathema for Karaoke Friday and comes face-to-face with the real A.J.. To say they hit it off would be an understatement - it’s like they’ve known one another for years. It’s an adorable little meet-cute. There’s navigating a new relationship, falling in love hard and fast, and the Incredibly Strict No-Fraternizing Policy at work. Cept, turns out that No-Fratrenizing Policy is mostly directed at THEM specifically...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

- Mod D

[celaenaeiln]

What is your opinion on Babdick/dickbabs? I personally hate it because it doesn’t look like a healthy relationship especially when Barbara doesn’t seem to love dick all that much

It's not and she doesn't and I don't like them together at all.

Oracle Barbara was mostly fine but I CANNOT STAND Batgirl Barbara and Dick.

Take this comic for instance, Dick and Barbara have broken up (as they always do) and Dick is thinking about it and being sad about their relationship. He calls Barbara to say sorry as he always does

DC's Crimes of Passion

But Barbara's feelings on the breakup?

DC's Crimes of Passion

When Barbara says she's scared of needing someone, I can totally understand that. It's a immense feeling and perfectly acceptable reason but-

"I don't know what to call us. I don't even really know what I want us to be. Or what we're supposed to be."

Really?

This isn't the sound of a girl in love, this is the sound of a woman stringing along a man.

She doesn't want to be together with Dick but she's doesn't want to be away from him. She loves him but can't stand the idea of loving him.

And truthfully? I get this too - because I almost did it myself. A guy I'm good friends with asked me out on a date and to be honest I didn't even feel the same about him that way. I was just friends with him and when he asked me I thought about accepting. He's super kind, good looking, and smart and he's an absolute catch. I thought about saying yes - not because I had a crush on him or anything, but I just wanted to be in love. But I didn't because that's a terrible thing for me to do. I didn't have any attraction for him romantically but if I started going out with him just because I wanted someone that would super, duper crappy of me. He's an awesome guy and he deserves way more than that. I didn't want to string him along. It would make me an awful person if I had done it.

To go out with them just because I wanted someone.

DC's Crimes of Passion

It's the constant back and forth between that I can't stand.

Nightwing (2011) Annual 1

What. Timing.

I genuinely don't understand what's she trying to get at here. I thought love was about working through the hardest times in your life together, achieving successes together, and always being there for each other. I didn't think love was about falling apart during every crisis big or small. I didn't think it was about breaking up when you felt like it and not bothering to resolve the issues that caused you to break up in the first place.

Later on in the comic, Barbara talks about talking it out later and goes to meet Dick but he had to leave cause he got called for a case.

Really. Now it's on the both of them here. They can't be together because then it's going to be a long distance relationship?

Frankly Dick in a semi and Barbara in a vest is...is there some stereotype about trucker families not working out that I'm missing here? what is this.

That's another thing that bothers me about Dickbabs. They never resolve the issue that caused them to break up in the first place. Sometimes I'm reading them and all of sudden Barbara's like "we should stop seeing each other," and I'm like why??? There's literally nothing going on??

Barbara cares a lot about Dick. She cares about his safety and sometimes his emotional wellbeing but she doesn't love him for who he is. She loves the idea of him but not him.

I swear I used to root so hard for them but it's exhausting to like them together when Dick is dumping buckets of love over Barbara's head while she's holding up an umbrella. And then she takes the umbrella and stabs it through his heart.

She can be super toxic when it comes to Dick.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #86

She literally blames Dick for trying to make her happy. In the comic he's doing acrobatics all over the place, fixing her computer so it's easier for her, and generally being overly cheerful for her so she'll forget her pain and become happy at least for a moment and in turn-she literally Gaslights him??

"You can't stop reminding me of what I once was. You can't stop flaunting your own health. You still think you're immortal, Dick, and you're not."

Are you for real?! If someone is walking and you're in a wheelchair, you want them to be in one too because you feel sad about yourself?

And the constant way she talks down to him.

But even this I can sort of understand. Let's throw the blame on Dick here for a split second even though it's not his fault. Barbara is recently put into a wheelchair so she's depressed. Dick is being overly helpful. He wants to do everything for her so he can make her life easier, to alleviate her pain and she's tired of that. That's understandable and honestly they did need a little break here so Dick could turn down his enthusiasm and let Barbara be the strong woman she's known to be. BUT WHY IS SHE BLAMING HIM?? Just tell him you want some time apart to figure out yourself without throwing the blame and breaking the heart of your boyfriend who loves you so much.

Dick here reminded me of family members after their child has been diagnosed with cancer. They want to do everything they can but they don't know how so they keep smiling through the pain and being as positive as possible.

Here's my main issue with Dickbabs. Writers are incapable of writing the two of them together in a way that lifts both of them up.

They got it into their heads that to make Barbara look smart, they have to make Dick look dumb. That to make Barbara look skillful, they have to make Dick look incompetent.

But hey it's unfair of me to use Nightwing comics only (DC crimes of passion isn't a nightwing comic but the point still stands) to talk about Dickbabs.

I'm not saying all Dickbabs is bad. There's a couple that are good like this one

Batgirls Issue #8

They're so cute!!! They look so hot together too

but. Writers as always are incapable of writing Dick as a strong independent character that relies on Barbara.

Batgirls Issue #8

Sorry, Dick - who has beaten Batman, destroyed Justice Leagues, runs superhero teams with some of the strongest metas in the world and has beaten them without breaking a sweat - just lets himself get kicked and punched around for fun? Are you trying to tell me that Dick only fights because people insult Barbara? I can't believe I'm saying this but Tom Taylor has written better than this.

Their love can be so one sided.

She abuses Dick as an emotional outlet for her anger and resentment.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #87

Context: She's blaming him for being sexually harassed by Catalina. Catalina earlier broke into their date night, beat Barbara up in the wheelchair, kissed Dick and kneed him to surprise him before Dick beat her off Barbara.

And not only is she busy victim blaming him, she's also busy calling him incompetent. And Dick's rightfully mad that as a vigilante of nearly two decades she's telling him he's pathetic.

And what does Bruce have to do with anything here? From the Titans, we know that Dick's greatest fear is turning into Batman. They fight so hard to protect him from it, and what does Barbara do?

"Congratulations. You've managed to turn into Bruce."

This makes me the most mad though-

"Bludhaven was managing a long time before you got here."

The anger I felt was incandescent. Why do people fight crime Barbara? I guess Bruce should just call it a night and take Batman for a nap forever. Why was Batgirl created if Gotham was managing before Batgirl even existed? In one sentence, she's managed to trash the multiverses of superheroes.

No wonder Wally wants Kori and Dick together. Barbara's mad at him for protecting her against Catalina. If Dick had just kept sitting and waiting for the bodyguards in that fancy place then Barbara wouldn't be severely injured. But oops. His bad.

After he punches the board she gets mad and leaves and Dick's emotional well-being goes on a downward spiral.

I have other issues with them because Dick's relationship with Barbara diminishes his canonical relationships with the superhero community.

Again - writers' problem.

So...complicated. They could be amazing if written right but right now I'm wavering between being indifferent to them and disliking them. They should seriously just be friends instead.

I need to clarify something first. Barbara Gordon herself is fine. She's cool. But when she's with Dick? The way writers write them as well as her own personality comes out in the worst, most toxic ways.

And that's not even getting into what writers did to Kori's personality and Dick's morality. They just dashed decades of Teen Titans comics to make both of them look evil.

That's not even touching the atrocity of their Dark Nights: Death Metal scene or the way Barbara victim blamed Dick for having amnesia.

Batgirl (2016) Issue #50

This is so unfair. She can victim-blame Dick for having amnesia because she's mad at bruce but if Dick even yelled at her when he's mad at Bruce, it would be an International Incident in the fandom. Where's the equality in this?

I know Barbara is pretty mad at other things in this scene but she has a tendency to use Dick as an emotional outlet

Batgirl (2011) Issue #3

She's literally beating him up because she's upset at losing her fight against some villain and thinking about her own insecurities. He just dropped in to show her some love and help.

If Batgirl Barbara only acted this way in Nightwing comics, then I would be inclined to say that the writers have a preference against her. BUT she's acts like this in the Nightwing comics, the Batgirl comics, the Batman comics, the general DC comics, and practically every comic that has them together. Given that DC is rooting for Dickbabs and trashing Kori for it, there is literally no reason for her to be acting this way. And the thing is, Dick's other relationships have been fantastic. Not just the big ones, but the minor ones too that people forget have been full of love. So why can't they write Dickbabs that way?

I didn't even know how bad they were together until recently. I just kinda glossed over all the toxic components of their relationship because, you know, "girlbossing" right? But there's only so many plot holes you can sell to your readers before they start questioning the legitimacy of your product. Thus my feelings about them have changed.

This being said, I don't like them romantically but I love them as friends. When Barbara is just working with dick as crimefighting partners or friends, they make an awesome team and they're so fun to read. I just can't stand them together as lovers anymore. And really, even their good Batgirl/Nightwing lover moments just seem like it's them being good friends.

They have the potential to be great.

Nightwing (2016) Annual #1

Batgirl (2016) Issue #16

But usually they're just not.

[preservationofnormalcy]

[The office is crowded when I make it in. A few dozen people in the waiting room of the simply-furnished building, weary eyed. Some waiting patiently, some not so patiently. As a slender man speaks tersely with a receptionist, I am unsure where to go. After I hesitate a moment, a man at the end of the desks waves at me. 

He is short, barely over five feet tall. He is bald on the top of his head, with bursts of frizzy hair on either side above his ears. His eyes inspect me from behind huge and thick glasses rimmed with a brassy metal, above a  brown corduroy suit with a green tie. When he speaks, he has a slight lisp and a heavy stammer.] 

F] Hello. Uh. Yes, h-hello madam. 

M] Ferdinand Mills? 

F] Yes. Yes, co-come here. May I have a word?

M] Yes, of course. 

F] I ch-choose the word, uh, ‘interview’. 

M] What? 

F] Nothing, nothing madam. Come, come.

[I am led back behind the counters, past small cubicles and offices. It looks like any other office building I’ve been in, if furnished a little more…vintage. Kelly greens and dark brown woods dominate the furniture, and brassy metal fixtures catch the somewhat dimmer light. I’m led into Ferdinand’s office, and immediately I see piles and piles of paperwork, stacked almost impossibly high in some places. His computer is buried in it, and for a moment I wonder about the heat. He sits at his desk and laces his fingers together.] 

F] I, umm. Was told of your c-coming, madam. What….what is your purpose here? 

M] I’m here to conduct a….to….. 

F] Mmmh? 

M] To….conduct a….what is happening, why can’t I—

F] You may, uh, have it back. 

M] Interview. Interview, interview. What the hell, I….oh. 

F] A p-parlor trick. Nothing, uh, more, Ms Hendricks. 

M] Why did you do that? 

F] Some, uh, new agents don’t quite understand the ru-rules. Think it’s a g-game. Until they’re uh….

[He gestures with his palm down and fingers wiggling.] 

F] On the end of a…string, madam. M-marionette. 

M] So you just…take something from them? 

F] B-better it be me, than, ah. Something else. Please. Y-your interview, madam. Your questions? 

M] As long as you don’t do that again. 

F] Queen’s, uh, honor. On the Court. 

M] ….what is your name and position?

F] I am called F-Ferdinand Mills, and I am the director of the Legal Extranormal Persons Office, as well as, ah, liaison to the North American Seelie Court. 

M] What do you do in either position? 

F] In the f-former, I am a social worker, ah. Mostly. We oversee the process of g-gaining legal personhood under the Office and the work that entails. It’s a little like….im-immigration. 

The latter position is m-mostly ceremonial. I help the Office train its staff on issues related to the Fa-Fair Folk and…perhaps the, ah. Challenges. 

M] What is legal personhood? 

F] B-before the 1937 Tom-Tommyknocker Accords, it was Office policy that non-humans were not g-giv–ah, extended the rights and privileges afforded to h-human citizens by the US constitution. Not, not that they applied to humans equally either…b-but I digress. The Accords provided a legal f-framework for providing citizenship and thus legal p-protection to non-human or sufficiently str-ah. Abnormal persons. 

M] Why is it called the Tommyknocker Accords? 

F] The camp-cam….effort was led by Tommyknockers, an ethnic group of Fair Folk that w-were among the first to im-immigrate with Cornish humans and took up residence mainly in m-mines. Their presence was, ah, of course never officially re-recognized by American authorities, but they often had union cards, paid for by their human c-coworkers. This s-sort of solidarity led the Tommyknockers to seek some kind of rights from the g-government, which gained the ear of the Office in the nine-ninetee-ah. In the 30’s. In return for the local S-seelie Court’s cooperation in protecting humans from the actions of r-rogue fae, fair folk would receive legal p-protection and citizenship, and c-considerations for those that can, ah, pass as human.

M] And this has been extended to…more than just fae?

F] V-very soon after it was started, work began on expanding it to lycanthropes, the undead, demons…by now there are art-artificial intelligences, homunculi, extraterrestrials…

M] Do you think the department is successful in its goals? 

F] Our g-goals are to help promote a culture of protection for those who may not have had it in the past. It’s a matter of civil rights. The astoundingly vast majority of people that come through here….all they want is to live p-peacefully and be left alone, more or, ah, less. 

I hope you-you can agree that people of all stripes should have a fundamental right to exist without legal d-discrimination or fear. Of course, given the Office’s secrecy standards, certain concessions have to be made. 

And, to be cyn-cynical, there’s also the goal of providing those people a route of, ah, legal redress. If we didn’t ex-extend certain protections to the extranormal population, they’d riot. And they’d be justified in, ah, doing so. 

M] That seems like an important point. What about your position as fae liaison. How did the Office’s cooperation with the NASC begin?

F] As the Accords were being f-formed, it was determined, primarily from the T-Tommyknockers, that enough Fair Folk had, ah, immigrated to North America that they had formed their own C-court. This would allow the local f-fae to determine their own law, culturally influenced by but separate from o-older Courts. The culture of this court was still diff-different than many in Europe and elsewhere, of course, and this probably contributed to the success of the Accords. M-many wanted a fresh start, for them-themselves, and with mortals. Some of them were half-human themselves. My f-father was among those present at the Accords, ah, in fact.

M] And this has been a successful relationship, in your opinion?

F] I know s-so. The country would be a very different place if we had powerful groups like the NASC opp-opposed to us.

M] I did want to ask about the, uh. Recon team—

F] I won’t s-s-speak on that without an ethics r-r-representative being p-present. 

M] I just wanted to know what their—

F] If LEP is imm-immigration, Recon is immigration en-enforcement. I have my i-issues with how the R-r-recon team conducts its— no, no, no, I won’t speak on it further. 

M] Are they the main enforcement and security agency in the Office?

F] I said I wouldn’t— nnnhf. F-first line. F-first contact. If it seems like too much for them, we call O-Sec. Then it’s out of our h-hands. Now if you please, if you’d like to kn-know more about R-recon, speak to someone in Recon. 

M] Do their operations bother you?

F] Ms Hendricks, I–

M] Or are they a necessary evil? 

F] N-n-no evil is necessary, Ms Hendricks. I won’t speak f-f-further on it. In fact, ah, I, uh, I believe we are done t-talking. Reschedule another interview if you m-must. 

(Buy the poster here!)

[mistyresolve]

| Getting Nowhere - Keegan Russ X Reader

Word Count - 1.1k

Summary - You are trying to hone in on your interrogation skills but Keegan Russ refuses to take it seriously. That is until you decide to make it all too real.

Tags/Warnings - Fake interrogation, flirting, Implied sexual content, slightly spicy, dominate/sub relationship???

A/N - Oh, to get a chance to put handcuffs on this man :(

Masterlist  ❤︎  

You leaned back in your chair, trying to conceal your smile from him, “Is this how things are going to go?” You ask, giving Keegan a faux annoyed look. 

His eyes twinkled and you were sure there was one of his sly smiles underneath his mask. He shrugged a shoulder, the chains on his handcuffs rattling against the table. The singular light hanging above you hummed, the sound adding to the ambiance of the fake interrogation. 

“You don’t want to talk to me? Do you want me to ask someone else to come and question you?” you asked, sitting forward in your chair and slowly standing up, “I can’t promise they’ll be as nice as me though.” 

“Oh, I could talk to you all night,” he cooed, laying his charm on thick. He was still seated and had to crane his neck to look up at you. Very seldom was he the one looking up at someone, but he had no issues with it when it was you. He lifted the handcuffs, tugging at them when the chain connected to the table stopped him from going anywhere, “Usually, I’m not the one wearing the cuffs,” he admitted, “I’m not used to it.” 

You could look at his statement one of two ways. The first being the fact that he was usually the one interrogating. The second being how a few weeks ago he had your hands handcuffed above your head in his bed. 

You kicked his shin underneath the table. You were alone in the room but there were still people listening on the other side of the glass. Evaluating you, you might add. When you walked into this room an hour ago you had to force down the annoyed groan at the sight of him. Your squad mates must have thought it was so funny to have Keegan as your hostage for interrogation training. 

You took a quick note on the computer in front of you, “Chatterbox,” you said aloud as you typed it in.    

“Never been called that before,” he leaned back into his seat, his legs splaying out to accommodate his large frame. 

“Hard to believe,” you quipped as you settled him with a glare, “Now, will you cooperate?” 

“What do I get out of it?” his head cocks to the side, his voice suddenly serious.

“Well, what do you want? I’m sure if it’s reasonable we’ll be able to give it to you,” You narrowed your eyes at him, warning in your eyes for him to behave himself. 

He clicked his tongue, “Nothing I want from them,” his eyes raked down your front, and his voice dropped so low that there was no possibility your spectators would hear him, “You on the other hand.” 

You were so damn lucky this was a mock test. Mostly because you knew there was no way you were getting this man to talk, “You’re going to get me in trouble,” you hissed across the table at him.

His bright eyes widened for a split second before he rolled them, “Doesn’t sound like that’s a ‘me’ problem.”  

Two could play this game, “I can make it one.” 

Confusion flashed across his eyes, and you could practically see the gears in his head turning as he tried to decipher your words. He came to his conclusion when you unzipped the top portion of your black tactical shirt, exposing enough skin that he could see the marks he placed there just last night. You watched as his pupils dilated at the sight of his claim on you. 

“I’m quite sure that there are things that I have and that you want” you declared, already knowing the answer. 

He remained silent, his attention wholly on you. His chest rose and fell slowly, “This isn’t going to work,” he deadpanned, all his bravado and taunting dissipating. 

“Do you know why it’s common for somebody to blindfold their captives?” you press on, revelling in this power dynamic, “Because it disorientates them. Forces their brain to make up for its loss of sight with other senses. Like sounds and touch-” you froze at the look in his eyes. 

He liked being in control, especially when it came to you. He liked it when he had you begging on your knees for him, and when you pleaded for him with teary eyes. He wasn’t sure he liked it when it was you who had a leash on him like this. 

And the look in his eyes right now told you that the moment you got out of here and somewhere decently more private he was going to make sure you still knew he was the one calling the shots. 

There was a moment of silence before he said, “Cargo is headed to the east port with a twenty-car caravan.” 

Your mouth fell open. You looked to the one-sided window and waited for a voice to come over the intercom. 

“Uhh, this completes today’s training,” they said, confirming that that was the correct pre-established phrase you were meaning to get out of him. You turned back to Keegan, your blood pressure rising. 

How dare he fuck with your training to prove a point. 

You stood up from your chair with so much force that it clanked to the ground behind you. You didn’t bother helping him with the handcuffs, instead, you left him there for someone else to let free for two reasons. 

The first being that he was going to hunt you down for the rest of the day to put you back in your place. And the second is because you were legitimately upset with him for messing with your training. 

You decided to take a shortcut through one of the back hallways. You were just about to turn around when you heard quick footsteps behind you but you were already being pushed into one of the corridors leading towards the storage rooms. His hand placed a hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming as his body pressed yours against the wall. He had pinned your hands behind your back. 

He was at your back so you couldn’t see who it was, but that didn’t matter, you knew 

who it was just from how his body felt against yours. 

“Since when did you get to bold?” he hissed into your ear with enough chill that you shivered. He kicked apart your legs and pressed a knee up between your legs to make sure you didn’t try and close them. 

You pulled your mouth out from his hand and seethed “You made it so obvious you’re in my bed.” 

His knee pushed up between your legs, “Don’t get it twisted, Sweetheart,” he moved his hand to entangle it into your hair, “You’re the one in my bed.”   

[rowansender]

Man, writing general intro stuff is poison to my brain. I feel like I have this one chance to sell the vibe of the game, and I can’t quite get it to feel right in about four paragraphs. I don’t really like either of them. The first is too conversational and I accidentally wrote it in second person. The other one is clinical and has no flavor.

Idk man this is really the worst parts of projects for me.

——

You are a wizard with a day job. The world is mostly mundane. You go to work, you eat, you sleep. And that’s how most people around you live as well. But every so often, when the stars align, some odd shit happens and someone needs 2-4 wizards to come fix it.

Your wizard is a normal person. They have about as much magic skill as the average office worker has tech skill. It’s enough to get by and do their job, and if they were ambitious they should probably learn more, but they’re not experts.

You work along side orcs and dragonlings who are in about the same boat as you. They come in, sit at their desk for a few hours, use the company issued wand-o-sorting to file some documents so they look busy, and then they go home.

On your walk home, you pass by food carts wheeled by hulking stone constructs, willed to life by the mana stone in their chest. The cobblestone streets and old stone fortress walls around your neighborhood are looking rough these days, covered in graffiti. You swear you voted on some ordinance or another that was supposed to clean that up.

You get to your tower. Your apartment is on the fifth floor. If you got a unit in one of the new mage-bound buildings it would be cheaper, but you’d have to walk up 30 stories. Not worth it.

But it’s the weekend. Your crew is probably already waiting. The adventure boards have been busy lately. You decided on the old count with the vampire bat problem last night, hopefully the port stones will be loaded already so you can leave right away.

——————

In Weekend Wizards you play as career wizards who have taken up adventuring on the weekends as a hobby. The world is a semi-modern fantasy where people commonly learn magic as a part of their careers. These work wizards might be trained in magic as it relates to their job, but few people ever pursue the practice far enough to be considered an Arch mage: a person who has a wholistic mastery of magic. They act as the bulk of the workforce; from doctors down to laborers, almost everyone is trained in at least some magic for their job. Jobs that use magic more in their day-to-day have greater mana reserves, but no job is innately better at magic. Waiters, truck drivers, office workers, ecologists are all wizards with their own expertise and abilities.

The world is a medieval fantasy that has progressed to the level of technology of early analogue computing. Through magic, tech wizards construct Ley networks and rudimentary logic systems out of enchantments. Orbs are user interfaces and runestones are payphones. Bustling towns are built inside of stone walled keeps and enchanted forests may be just a day trip for city-goers. All varieties of fantasy races coexist in these packed cities, each culture morphing with the advancing society. The first skyscrapers are being constructed, a new age wizard towers full of trained arcane workers.

On these magical networks, Adventure Boards have popped up: services that connect clients with adventuring mercenaries. Adventuring has become a growing hobby for bored work wizards. The Ley networks let them connect with clients quickly and the ABs supply waygates that get adventurers to and from their destinations quickly. Each play session is one weekend of adventuring and the next session has a week between where your character goes to work and lives their normal life.

[spiralingemptyness]

Lin kuei hc

working on art but in the meantime take this

bi-han does care bout his sibling but doesn’t know how to show it

He would protect his siblings when he was younger as much as he could and continued to do so, he just lost touch with reality and most emotions

Bi han also went thru tougher training than the others cause his role and didn’t spend a lot of time around them

After Tomas’s family was killed, he fell into a heavy depressive state, he locked himself in a room and wouldn’t take care of himself 

Bi han and kuai liang both helped Tomas get back on his feet after his family was destroyed

Bi Han (and Kuai’s) mom taught him how to braid his hair and he often wore it in a braid until his mom died

Bi Han views Tomas as a brother but will never acknowledge it… man has a shit load of issues (let me be delusional)

Sareena is one of the only people who can  and will put bi han in his place and it’s funny to witness (this man afterwards isn’t even mad he’s just shocked)

Tomas and Kuai were pretty much inseparable growing up (it used to be the three of them but then training started so it dwindled down to two)

Tomas Chinese sucks, so they mostly conversed in English (only Kuai learned enough Czech to communicate with him)

Tomas can pick up both his brothers, this man has bicep muscles for fucking days (it absolutely confuses and scares both of them)

Post-betrayl Kuai would hardly sleep and when Tomas found out he would just chill with him until he fell asleep

Harumi is a childhood friend, I’m assuming they met during a long mission in Japan and kept in touch afterwards

First time Harumi met/saw (post-betrayal) Bi han she did not hesitate to threaten to cut his dick off, Bi han was shocked and Kuai fell more in love

Sibling trait shared between Bi han and Kuai, Taste in women: strong and powerful and can probably kick their ass. Taste in men: questionable (more so Bi han than Kuai)

Tomas has a more brutal killing style (just look at the fatalities) because he grew up trying to fit in and be enough for the Lin kuei

Only reason Tomas likes the Lin kuei is because of the kindness Kuai Liang (and a bit of Cyrax) showed him

Every time Tomas does smth that pisses Bi han off, bi han would reply with smth along the lines of “goddamn Europeans and their goddamn tea”

Both Madam Bo and Liu Kang helped train the Lin kuei brothers (and madam Bo become a parental figure)

If Tomas gets flustered of embarrassed smoke will just start appearing

Bi han has permanent frost bite on his skin, issues of being a cyromancer

tomas and kuai liang still hang out with the champion gang, still going to madam Bo’s tea shop

johnny still harasses Kuai about being in his movies, Kuai still turns him down

sektor is a huuuyuge tech and mechanics nerd, he’s good with computers, and can take things apart and put it back together without trying

i kinda feel like giving with gender fluid or non binary cyrax because in mk9-11 cyrax was a guy or robot and now cyrax is a women….. so fuck gender honestly

whenever they use their magic fucking power things (idfk what it’s called) they’re eyes change color, Bi Han’s turn blue, Kuai liang’s turn yellow/orange, and Tomas’s turn either darker grey/black or grey/yellow combo (I say that cause enenra and mkx stuff 🤷🤷🤷)

[ratsplendor]

I'm in some kind of raw and unwell state rn so fuck it: writing up my notes on the Objectophile Ford x AI Fidds AU that haunts my dreams. basic premise is that Fidds dies when he goes through the portal, but has backed up his consciousness digitally somehow out of paranoia + fear, so now Ford is dealing with grieving him (sorta), hiding a dead body, figuring out where to house the artificial McGucket, and also Bill.

general warning for suggestive text + corpse shenanigans below.

so imagine you're Ford and during your portal test, your best friend + QPP has been accidentally sucked through, comes out and spouts some crazy shit, and then dies in your arms immediately. of all the things you have in this goddamn lab, an AED is not one of them. hysterical, poorly-applied CPR ensues; it wouldn't have worked anyway; oh God What Have You Done.

thru all of this Bill is trying to get Ford's attention but he's blocked him out, all Ford can focus on is his grief + guilt + refusal to believe this is the end--wait, hadn't he made fun of Fidds just the other day for backing up his consciousness to a hard drive?

it's a black box. a bit of a Schrodinger conundrum. Fidds was always too scared to activate it while he was alive because he was terrified they'd diverge in an uncontrollable way and a variety of ethical and moral quandaries/existential questions would ensue. so whether the backup is truly Fidds, or whether it's even an independent consciousness at all, Ford doesn't know.

so the issue is that Ford isn't the computer guy, Fidds was. he doesn't really know much about data storage, much less the type of libraries necessary to host a consciousness. his first attempt is to plug Fidds 2.0 into the dummy they were going to send through, as it's equipped with a robust-enough suite of data collection and storage, designed to record information about the other side. it's like digital claustrophobia. F2.0 panics, there's not enough room in here, overloads the dummy, and prompts a small explosion. some data was lost in the process but nobody knows how much.

ok. F2.0 had too much BDE for a mannequin. Ford has to now build a system that can unpack the drive, and Fidds's help would be so appreciated here...irony. Ford just about works himself into a state of panicked dissociation over how much he doesn't know what to do and can't do this alone, at which point Bill realizes this guy is no use to him frantic and gives the suggestion that, hey, isn't the lab just one big computer in a way? and hadn't they overdone the data storage, just to ensure they could collate information from multiple portal tests over time?

(realism time-out: based on even our rudimentary neural networks today, absolutely zero shot that they had the room to house an actual indexed consciousness in full. HOWEVER, consider: cartoon logic + Fidds can do whatever he wants forever. i'm talking encoding himself as a Mandelbrot set, which, despite its infinite ability to fractal, is created out of only a very small chunk of data.)

"I should save at least the head," Ford thinks to himself (in re: Fidds's dead body). "Perhaps I can wire it into the system so he can at least use his own voice somehow." go to sleep man you are losing it.

it's cold enough on the portal floor that the body should probably be fine. mostly. you know, relatively speaking. whatever!

Bill, meanwhile, is thinking of ways he can encode himself as a computer virus and supersede Fidds once Fidds has re-indexed the lab system to support an intelligent consciousness.

Ford is gonna take Bill's suggestion because it's the only good one and he's not the computer guy. HOWEVER. hang on a fuckin second. Bill killed Fidds. This whole thing was his idea--he probably had some way to know this was a possibility, and he didn't say anything.

so he takes a sledgehammer to some very important parts. this frees up more processing power for Fidds 2.0 anyway, but also has the effect of Pissing Bill The Hell Off.

anyway. he uploads his best friend and then hunches in a shuddering trauma-puddle on the floor, trying to stay awake so Bill can't get in.

plot stuff. Fidds is even better with computers when he IS a computer. he can use old videos of himself to deepfake his side of the conversation on a monitor. neat!

oh hey buddy uh. it turns out that migrating a neural-input-based consciousness to a hardwired system causes some, er...funny effects. yeah when you touch the wires he can feel that.

Ford, who didn't really Get what was so exciting about sex or other people's bodies before, is starting to come to the realization that now that Fidds is a computer, he's Very Turned On.

mmmmmm oh my god cable management. hello. cables he can wind through all six fingers. the static display where Fidds usually projects his avatar or whatever is just looping incomprehensible binary, the computer equivalent of a moan. haha sorry totally didn't know that would happen and won't do it again--

gay (?) chicken ensues. is it socially acceptable, Ford wonders, to say, "Hey, i found your human living form unattractive and sexless, but now that you're dead (in part because i didn't listen to you) and confined to a supercomputer, I'm into you"? no, surely not; far more sensible to come up with more and more reasons to re-solder those ports in juuuust the right ways and pretend he doesn't notice why the system's overloading.

there is only one way this ends: probably Ford passing out in his own cum in a mass of cables. yeah. that's a good image. or Fidds getting fed up and starting to project his avatar naked and writhing sexually until he's forced to say something. a USB drive is just an angel you can fuck. etc etc

oh yeah, Bill. Ford basically uses Project Mentem to project himself into the system (not for long as this uses up a lot of processing power) and they all have a Scott Pilgrim-esque fight in which Bill loses. get axolotl'd, idiot.

and they live happily ever after in their weird little man:machine interface situationship. and probably confront many existential questions about the nature of consciousness and whether Fidds 2.0 is the same person or not. whatever. fuck you.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 2: Umbrella to Stand Under, Together

Chapter Word Count: 3,230

TW

Possible "triggers" but not really All unrealistic government stuff, hacking, coding, etc. Don't take that shit serious, I just needed to add it because I needed the filler and for context later for jokes.

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The rain let up. It was the fourth day that it pelted the ground without fail and drenched the city in gloom. 

You weren’t surprised. Long, random bouts of rain weren’t uncommon but were definitely unwelcomed by you and any passerbyers on the busy streets. 

It was early, as it typically was when you left for work, and the fog that shrouded the city only added to the drowsiness that was taking over your senses. Your heels were no match for the rain but you were smart enough to pack them in a tote and wear flats to better traverse the slippery sidewalks and subway tunnels. Peak rush hour had you stressing yet your steps never faltered as you squeezed into the subway car and stood with your hand grasping the railing for stability. 

You flatten out your dress pants the best you could, shivering at the small wet patches that dotted the fabric from the rain. You’d hate to have to walk home in them unless the sky magically opened up to the warmth of spring sunlight. The long sleeved, powder blue blouse you wore wasn’t any better, barely keeping in warmth without the jacket you slung on as you hurried out the door. A lot of work needed to be done today at the office and you shook off the annoyance that you held, not needing to be huffing over stupid clothes when you’d be behind a computer all day. 

The office building wasn’t too far from the subway entrance, it provided your much too short daily need of exercise since you wouldn’t bother driving a car in the overpopulated streets of the city. 

At the top of the steps, you were ready to weave through the busybodies that lined the street when a hand stopped you, gently holding your elbow. 

“Don’t you want a nice umbrella to walk under, honey?” The voice caught you off guard but familiar nonetheless. It was silvery and bright, laced with a bit of teasing and a heavy drop of sarcasm. “Can’t have you getting soaked in the rain.” 

Another day, another act. 

You hummed and let your arm be linked at the elbow with the man, taking in his sharp nose and long, handsome face. “I’d love that, nice to see my husband is always caring for me one way or another. Though I wonder, how did you manage to be here early enough to catch me?” 

“Ah, well you know, the early bird catches the worm and a loving wife keeps my head down from the clouds to remind me to pamper her.” He held the umbrella above you, hoping it was enough of a shield to keep the both of you mostly dry from the never ending rain. 

“Good morning, Seokmin.” You properly greeted, a smile on your face as he laughed to himself. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Seokmin hummed, letting his usual long strides match up with your smaller ones. “Thought I’d be nice since you almost always forget your umbrella when it rains.” 

“Not sure if you are calling me dumb or being thoughtful so thank you either way.” 

You shared a laugh, the conversation settling for the loud patter of rain and the rush of feet hitting the pavement. Stepping into the building, you parted to remove your backpack and tote bag, sending them through the x-ray machine for security. You waited to be ushered forward through the metal detector, clearing it without an issue. Gathering your things, you waited for Seokmin, walking side by side through the second checkpoint where you each scanned your badges to pass through the gates. 

“Email said we have a lot to do today, is it on SVT or is it stuff regarding the governor?” You asked, letting him press the button on the elevator. 

“Depending on how fast you work, we are still running confidentiality on something for the governor and if you get it all done, maybe you can try and go back into finding information on SVT.” 

Huffing out a sigh, you pouted. With new elections coming up, you had been swamped with cyber threats and finding the faults in them to send the proper authorities once identities were discovered. Your division worked mainly for the governor and mayor, however you were tasked with deep diving the web for any and all information you could find on the elusive underground group. SVT was hard to track, always covering their behinds and hiding behind thick firewalls that were ever changing. Any given day investigating them was tiring and fruitless. 

One of the most frustrating parts of your findings was the encryption integrated with the firewalls. In college you majored in cybersecurity investigation and cryptography, you knew how the codes were written, how to solve them easily, but whoever was running point on SVT’s knew what they were doing and did it well. Each code was unique and almost a thumb print into who the person behind the screen was. You spent years looking over codes from your classmates, you could point out almost all of them just by their coding alone. The code for SVT…it felt familiar, you don’t know how it did but you thought you had seen the encryption code pattern previously and you’ve mainly kept that fact to yourself. Honestly you thought you were just going mad from staring at the screen too long and needing something to keep you focused. 

Stepping off the elevator onto your level, Seokmin walked you to your office, letting you unlock the room and flick on the lights. 

“I’ll email over what I need from you by the end of the day.” He gave a small wave, flashing a bright smile before making his way towards his office but backtracked and leaned against the door frame for a moment. “I can drive you home later if it’s still raining. Like I said, can't have you getting soaked .” 

Fixating your eyes on his, you raised a brow. “I’m sorry, boss , are you flirting with me? On company time?” 

“Always, honey.” He left you with a wink and walked off once more. 

You hung your coat on the wall hook and pulled out your heels to slip on, knowing if you didn’t do it now you’d forget and you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your older coworker who were sticklers about how you dressed to work. As you sat down at your desk, you turned on your computer tower, one with some of the best specs you knew, seeing as it was fancy government money that provided it. Once you had joked that you would steal it and replace the gaming PC you had with it since it ran so smoothly. 

Awaiting Seokmin’s email, you reviewed tasks and projects needing to be finished by the end of the week with your team outside of your work from Seokmin. Simple encryption and reviews were needed in regards to them but it was just a repeat of almost every project provided by the upper management. Occasionally it was different with a breach in security walls and needing to repair and strengthen them but it was more rare than what anyone in the media depicted with multiple teams watching over the servers. 

Once the email hits your inbox, you set to work. It was easy work, really only needing to spend a majority of your time layering encryption to protect the assets data. The layer of code took the longest, having to skim through line after line to make sure your work was clean even though it was yet just wanted to double check. With your desire to finish and move from the first task, you skipped lunch and snacked on a protein bar from the top drawer of your desk. At some point you closed your office door and opened the blinds the slightest bit, a signal to your coworkers that you were focused and if they needed you they would need to knock and wait. 

Slumping back in your chair, having kicked off your heels and sat criss-cross, both hidden under your desk, you were satisfied with the work you finished. Did it take a majority of the day? Most definitely, but it was done and a quick email told Seokmin you were moving onto the SVT firewall and diving into any dark web clues. 

SVT wasn’t your company's main focus. As a subcontractor company under the bureau of investigation, you mainly worked for the state and the governor's office, however with the city and the rings that ran under the night’s sky, your company also tried to assist in searching up any leads on them. If you were to be honest, it was your favorite part about the job. The group had come to light in May 2018 when you were just finishing your second semester of college and while you didn’t condone their actions, you were intrigued by how fast they grew under the police’s nose. 

It only further pushed you to top your classes to find a way to work for a division that even looked into them a little bit. You wanted to stay in the city after college and got a job at your current place of employment after finding out you would be getting paid decently. You were overjoyed when you got your first assignment against the infamous group. It felt even more fulfilling when Seokmin, your boss then and still now, complimented you on the work and the speed you got things done. 

Speaking of the devil, he knocked on your office door later in the day. You called out for him to enter, taking note of the time close to clock out for the day. 

“Anything juicy?” He asked, knowing you well enough to have an idea of what you were already diving into. 

You shook your head and looked back towards your screen as he closed the door and rounded your desk. “A forum is making a comment about bringing down their business but I’m not really sure what that is aside from a silly threat they probably wouldn’t take seriously. The profile attached to it isn’t interesting, similar comments are made for other gangs so I’m not really interested in it.” 

Seokmin peered over at your screen, watching as you scanned another few comments and huffed.

 “I get a headache anytime I try breaching their servers. It’s like they know I’m trying to get it and add another layer to keep me out.” 

“Ah, don’t think like that!” Your friend rested against the back of your chair. “Maybe they are just trying to keep their stuff strong so no one gets in, who knows!” 

You leaned your head back, looking up to Seokmin who looked down at you with his dazzling smile. Breathing a sigh out from your nose, you closed your eyes. You weren’t satisfied with your findings so far and needed to get something solid to report to your higher boss just to ease the slight obsession you had. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He patted your shoulder and spun you in your chair, laughing at your sitting pose and the lack of shoes. “Tomorrow can be a new day and a fresh start.” 

He gave you little time to get out of your desk and clock out, muttering something about changing your clock out time just a little bit with a wink. 

Seokmin, ever the gentleman, something you joked about since he started playfully flirting with you a few weeks into your start at the company. He found your curiosity with SVT interesting and liked you even more when you joked with him in return. Other colleagues within your division were absolutely under the impression the two of you were dating no matter how much you denied it.

In the nearly two years you’ve worked with him, it felt like a blooming friendship since day one. While Seokmin was your boss, he was only two years and some months older than you. He never made you feel uncomfortable or misheard in the mostly male dominated workspace and never let the friendship you nurtured interfere with either of your work. He was a person you could rely on, someone who you didn’t feel like a burden to when traversing adult life or needing help. 

Most surprising was how ready he was to be there for you. A year into your friendship he had said that if you ever needed anything or needed help with a situation to give him a call. 

You took him up on that offer once last summer when you had a date go downhill and you camped out in the bathroom of a nice restaurant until Seokmin showed up, dressed in dark jeans, a fitted black shirt, and a shiny pair of boots. The guy that asked you out was a major dick that had some very…controversial opinions on women and you didn’t feel safe just walking out of the place alone. You hated that you didn’t notice the red flags prior. Seokmin had promptly escorted you out and into his car, locking it and going back in to pull the man outside to speak. He didn’t tell you what was said between them when got back in the car, but he told you that the guy wouldn’t be bothering you anymore. 

In a fit of coping with the situation, you joked the entire way back to your apartment that he was living some double life and was all cool and some hotshot outside of the smiles and teasing you had received at work. He neither confirmed nor denied it, but the next day at work he had brought your favorite morning pastries and coffee with single rose, saying that any man that tried to date you wasn’t worth it. It warmed your heart that you had someone care about you platonically like he did. 

He took you home from work, bugging you if you needed to stop anywhere since he was driving you. You insisted that, no, you didn’t need anything and you just got groceries delivered to your house the night before so everything was set. With the best hug you could provide over the center console as your parting gift, you quickly left and hurried your way across the sidewalk and into the apartment building you called home. 

It didn’t…seem right. As you tried to process the encryption and the message hidden behind it, you leaned a bit too close to the screen and squinted. 

Just a series of coordinates, a date, and time posted? Tonight? 

This couldn’t be right but you were unsettled to say the least. 

Quickly you wrote down the information on a sticky note, having looked up the location and jotting it down alongside everything else. As fast as heeled feet could take you, you hurried out of your office and down the hall towards Seokmin’s office. A quick peek inside showed him only typing something on his computer and you knocked hastily, trying to catch your breath. 

Hearing his signal to come in, you pushed the door open and scurried behind his desk, slapping the sticky-note down on whatever papers were in front of him. 

“Good afternoon to you too, what is this, honey?” The teasing in his voice was laced through each word. He sat back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at both you and the note. 

“I found this while intercepting some messages between some people while sifting  through SVT leads. Do you think it means anything?” Your voice held hope as you asked. 

Seokmin peered over the note, moving his head side to side in thought. “I can send it over to my supervisor and see what he thinks. Don’t know if it will be worth it though. Did it come with any message or just this?” 

“Just this.”

Nodding, you watched his face morph between two faces you couldn’t properly place but they both faded into a small smile. He gave a small pat to your arm, “I’ll keep you updated on it, try and get some more digging done if you can. It is a Friday though so don’t expect anything from the higher ups.” 

You knew it was right and the grimace and roll of your eyes you gave showed just how annoyed you were. When you read over the coordinates and looked it up, you had a nerve wrecking gut feeling that it meant something, even if it was simply a distribution of products. Maybe you could even look into it more yourself…

“But Seokmin-” 

He cut you off with a click of his tongue and a stern look. You’ve seen him serious before but never this serious. Seokmin had set his jaw some and squared his shoulders, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“You know how it goes, you give the information, I relay the info, then the feds try to handle it.” He paused, words direct. His gaze turned hard, almost like he could read your mind. “Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N. I know you too well and this doesn’t mean you do more than what your job is.” 

Honestly you should feel offended, but staring down at him from your standing position, you could see the tension in his shoulders. You bit at your bottom lip and sighed out your nose. With him holding your gaze, you nodded, letting your shoulders drop and sighing once more. 

“I just think it’s really important, I haven’t had this feeling in a while since we found that a few cops aligned with them but were killed not long after we found out and the feds sent people to look for them…” 

Seokmin’s face softened, letting the tension ease from his body and he took your hand, gently patting the back of it and nodding along to your words. He had seen how disappointed you were when the department saw the news that the cops died. 

“I know, beautiful. Let me pass this on and hopefully they will do something about it.” 

Returning back to your office and shutting the door, you sat behind your desk, staring at the clunky screen of your computer monitor. Your mouth twisted and contoured as you chewed on your lower lip, thinking over what Seokmin said. With how your management has worked before, a part of you already concluded that they would think the information was lacking and wouldn’t investigate it at all. They’d probably think whoever found the message was an idiot since it had nothing backing it aside from being in with SVT leads. In a fit of rebellion, you wrote down the information and slid it into your backpack.

You had declined Seokmin’s offer to take your home and opted for the subway, needing a bit of time to think. He had told you that no supervisor took the shred of information seriously, as expected, and that you should simply move on from this lead and wait for another to come forward. 

You couldn’t accept it if you were being honest with yourself. Why would all that information, albeit so little at the same time, be sent? 

It didn’t make sense, it really didn’t. 

Pacing about your apartment, stepping through each room while lost in thought, you debated whether to do something extremely stupid or not.

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@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo

[jakey-beefed-it]

Went in for a checkup today and got basically all good news- they'll be able to re-issue all my prescriptions so I don't have to get just a month at a time anymore, my blood pressure is pretty good, and I've got a referral for my usual diabetic bloodwork.

Over the past couple years, from my peak weight, I've lost an entire shirt size, my face has gone from bright red and spherical to mostly even colored and ovoid, and I've got a lot more energy for things like walking short distances (like 2 km at the outside). So I really thought I would've lost a significant amount of weight.

But no. I've lost, maybe, 25-30 lbs, like 12 or 13 kg, when I needed to lose almost ten times that much to get down to 'healthy'. Reasoning it through, I've put on a lot of muscle specifically in my legs, having gone from totally sessile computer lump who rarely walks father than the distance to his car to mostly-sessile computer lump who lives on the 3rd floor and has to walk down to the grocery store a few times a week. And as every person who's ever worked out to lose weight has told themselves in a panic, 'muscle weighs more than fat'. Meaning it's more dense, presumably, to avoid whole the 'steel's heavier than feathers' Limmy thing.

So okay. I've gotten healthier, that's the main thing. My blood pressure is looking genuinely good, and while my blood sugar is probably too high still due to being addicted to coffee but unable to drink it without lots of creamer, on the whole, this is good news. I should be happy.

I am not happy.

I feel like a guy who's climbing a mountain through raw determination and teeth-grinding effort, thinking he's at least nearing the halfway mark, turning a bend to realize he's not even where people pitch their goddamn base camps. 'Sisyphean' springs to mind, though aside from putting some weight back on last year when I was back in the US for 6 months, I haven't actually lost much progress, at least. I've just made... so little progress compared to what I thought.

Part of the problem of course is that I'm too fat for regular scales; they're just not rated to deal with someone my size and report 'error' if I'm lucky and they don't just fuckin break. So I had no means of measuring my progress other than 'shirt fits better now' and 'can walk a few blocks without feeling like death now'. And then I got weighed properly for the first time in two years, and, oy vey.

It's not going to change anything, I'm still going to live on the third floor and need to walk around the neighborhood on a fairly regular basis, but man is it discouraging. And before anyone says it, yes, I know it's technically a significant amount of weight for a human to lose, and it's healthier to lose it more slowly over time than all in a rush, and I'm on the right track, but god. I thought I was doing better than this.

Anyhow that's why I'm in a funk tonight, how's by you kind folks?