#one that I already have all the materials for too

[deadpoetskin]

DADDY, YOU DUMMY

SYNOPSIS: One moment, Wayne Manor is calm. The next, there’s a toddler standing in the dining room with a Red Robin plush, and a very familiar pair of blue eyes. None of Bruce’s sons have children. Only one of them is even in a relationship. And that is most definitely not Timothy Jackson Drake PAIRINGS: Tim Drake x Fem! Reader, Original Female Character TAGS: Time Travel, Slow burn, Strangers to Lovers

🜼 :: i am not very familiar with the canon material, please forgive me. i just got into this fandom recently cause of the edits with the bubble guppies songs—you know what i’m talking about—but i can't resist writing when i get an idea. i did read up the lore as much as i can so i hope that's enough of a crash course.

🜼 :: i really wanted to introduce the reader this chapter but it was getting loo long and i hate to end it short but i had to. next chapter, for sure

🜼 :: lemme know if you wanna be tagged for part two

Wayne Manor was not the kind of place where surprises went over well.

Bruce liked his routines. Alfred had his cleaning system optimized down to a science. And the Batkids—well, chaos followed them often, but even they liked their chaos scheduled. So when a child appeared out of nowhere, no one was quite sure what protocol applied.

It was just past nine in the evening when the silence in the Wayne Manor dining room was fractured.

The long dining table was actually being used—not for mission briefings or post-patrol first aid, but for something bordering on domestic. Plates were half-full, conversations across the table—mild teasing, half-finished stories, arguments over who had the worst form on a grappling hook. Damian sat near the end, posture too straight, silently judging every word coming out his brothers' mouths. Jason occasionally grinned, the scar near his mouth twitching with each bite of sarcasm. And Dick, ever the glue of the family, kept the mood light.

It was a rare moment having all—most—of the kids over for dinner. The kind of gathering that only happened a handful of times a year. 

But peace never lasted long with the Waynes.

The lights flickered—just once—then the air shifted. A stillness that felt charged. Like the hush before a thunderclap, or the space between heartbeats when something goes wrong.

And then—she was just there.

No door opened. No footsteps. No warning.

She appeared near the head of the table, close to the dining room door. Dressed in a red dress and a black cardigan, ponytailed, carrying a small black bag, and hugging a Red Robin plush. She blinked wide, curious eyes up at the room full of people staring back at her like she was a time bomb.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft and light. “Please don’t tell Mommy.”

A beat.

The little girl’s lip wobbled.

And then she burst into tears.

Damian tensed, already halfway into a defensive stance. Jason blinked like he’d forgotten how his eyes worked. Bruce looked vaguely horrified. 

It was Dick who stepped forward, calm through the rising confusion. He crouched low, arms open, and scooped her up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, gently rocking her. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

The sobs quieted, just a little. Enough to breathe. Enough for the shock to start setting in.

Twenty minutes later, the rest of the family was assembled in the drawing room. Bruce, Jason, Damian, and Dick were all watching the small girl now wrapped in a blanket on the couch, holding a juice box and kicking her feet. The Red Robin plush she carried now sat beside her like a silent bodyguard.

Bruce stood in front of the fireplace, arms folded, eyes fixed and unreadable. Damian leaned against the far wall near the door, keeping his distance. Dick sat on the armrest beside her, elbow on his knee, one hand propping up his chin. Jason had taken to standing behind the couch, watching the child with intrigue. 

“I didn’t just hallucinate that, right? She just appeared?” Jason finally asked, cutting through the silence. “Like—poof?”

“No alarms or sensors were triggered,” Bruce said, frowning slightly. “One moment the room was empty. Next, she was standing right here.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “She’s tiny. Like, what—three?”

“Four,” the girl corrected, holding up four fingers with mild exasperation. “And I’m not tiny. You’re just giant, Uncle Dickie.”

Dick blinked, taken slightly aback. “Uncle Dickie?”

Jason snorted from behind the couch, grinning. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

“She knows you, Grayson,” Damian muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Before anyone could respond, the little girl rolled her eyes with theatrical flair.

“Uncle Dami, you dummy,” she said, completely unfazed by his glare. “Of course I know Uncle Dickie.”

The room stilled for a breath.

Jason choked on a laugh. “Did she just—?”

Damian’s jaw twitched. “I am no one’s uncle.”

The child gave him a judging look, like she’d heard this line before. “Yes, you are. You’re my grumpy Uncle Dami”

Jason doubled over, wheezing. “This kid’s killing me.”

Damian glared, but it had less bite than usual—more confusion than fury.

Bruce, meanwhile, hadn’t moved from his place by the fireplace, but his gaze had sharpened. He was watching the girl closely now. Familiar. Intimate. Confident in the truth of every word she says.

“What's your name?” he asked, voice low.

The girl gave him a patient, very unimpressed look.

The girl huffed and crossed her arms. “Grampa, you’re also a dummy,” she said, frowning with all the authority a four-year-old could muster. “You already know me.”

A few seconds passed. Nobody moved. 

She paused, blinking at them like they were the ones being ridiculous.

Then she pointed to herself with both thumbs and declared with exasperated pride—

“I’m your granddaughter,” she said. “Duh.”

“I’m Georgina Drake” She beamed. “But you always just call me Gia.”

The room fell silent.

“Drake,” Jason echoed. “As in…?”

“As in Tim.” Bruce confirmed, voice steady and low.

Across the room, Damian looked as if someone had insulted him personally.

“No,” he said immediately, folding his arms. “Impossible. Drake doesn’t even have a girlfriend.”

“Could be a prank,” Dick offered, though his tone was more tentative now. “Or a clone. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve seen.”

“I’m not a clone!” she said primly, chin lifting in defiance. “I’m a princess, like Mommy.”

Jason raised a brow. “Okay, princess. Who’s your mom?”

Before she could answer, her head turned—eyes catching on movement by the door.

Tim had just stepped into the room, phone in hand, brows drawn in confusion at the unusually quiet gathering.

The girl’s face lit up.

“Daddy!” she squealed, voice echoing off the walls as she launched herself off the couch like a missile.

Tim was late. Naturally.

He'd been held up in a meeting at WE and was still reading the message from Dick—

come home now. emergency

—when he stepped into the room, still in his blazer, earbuds in, looking confused. 

“Hey. Got your text. What’s the emergency—?”

Then he saw the child.

And the child saw him.

With an ear-splitting squeal, Gia launched herself across the room with terrifying speed. 

“Daddy!”

Tim had precisely two seconds to process that before she crashed into his legs, arms wrapping around his knees like she’d known him her whole life.

He froze.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to him.

Tim looked down. She clung to him like a koala, babbling in excitement with enough energy to make his brain short-circuit.

“I missed you!” she chirped. “You were gone forever! I thought maybe you got lost—Uncle Bart said you do that sometimes—but we told Mommy we’d be back before dinner so you can't get lost!”

Tim stood frozen, blinking. “What.”

“But then Uncle Bart had to go too” she went on, not missing a beat, “‘cause Mr. Jon called him on the commy thing and he told me, ‘Don’t touch anything, Arti, not even a little bit!’ and I didn’t, ‘cause I was being super good.”

She paused, looking up at him, pouting and looking guilty. “But then I got kinda bored… and I maybe touched the glowy thingy just a little bit. And it was really shiny! And then—poof!”

She flung her hands out like fireworks, eyes wide.

“And then I blinked and I was here with Uncle and Grandpa and they’re being weird and dummies and Uncle Damian is grumpy—again.” She rolled her eyes like that was the most annoying part of her day.

Then she looked back at Tim and grinned, soft and warm, like everything was finally right again.

“But it’s okay now!” she said, with absolute certainty. “’Cause you’re here.”

Tim’s jaw slackened. No words came out.

He looked like his entire operating system had crashed. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Breath caught somewhere in his chest. His hands hung uselessly at his sides as he stared at the tiny girl still hugging his legs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Tim looked to Bruce, looking for answers. “What the hell is going on?”

“Her name’s Gia,” Dick supplied, still perched on the arm of the couch, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened all month.

“Congrats, Replacement. She’s yours.” Jason said, far too casually, visibly trying not to burst into laughter at the sight of Tim—speechless, wide-eyed, completely out of his depth.

“She says she’s yours,” Damian corrected with a scowl, arms still folded. “We haven’t confirmed anything yet.”

“She’s—she’s mine?” Tim sputtered. “I don’t—wha—what?”

“She does have your eyes,” Bruce said mildly from his place near the fireplace.

Before Tim could respond—or fall over—Gia’s expression shifted.

Her eyes flicked past him to the doorway, searching. “But where’s Mommy?” she asked softly, her voice losing some of its earlier bounce. Her smile faltered just a little. “Is she outside?”

The room stilled. That single question cut through the noise like a blade. 

Tim’s heart stopped. “Mommy?”

She looked at him, confused. “Yeah,” she said. “My mommy. Where’s Mommy?”

Tim swallowed hard. “What’s your mommy’s name?”

Gia scrunched her nose. “You know her.”

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, lowering himself to her level, his blazer wrinkling at the knees. “I don’t think I do.”

Around them, the room held its breath.

Her eyes stayed locked on him, her little face scrunching even more like she didn’t understand why he was asking such a silly question. “Yes, you do,” she said with the kind of unshakable confidence only a child could carry. “She’s my mommy. And she’s your favorite person.”

Tim’s breath hitched. Behind her, Jason made a sound—half laugh, half breath—but didn’t speak.

“Sweetheart, can you tell me her name?” Tim tried again. “Can you tell me what she looks like?”

Gia tilted her head, like he was playing a very weird game she’s still not understanding. He could see her small brain working behind her eyes, wondering why her Daddy was being so weird tonight.

“Is she not here yet?” Her brows furrowed. “But Mommy said don’t be late for dinner.”

Tim swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak carefully. Softly. “Sweetheart… I don’t know who your mommy is.”

She only blinked at him, like he’d just said the sky was green. Her mouth opened, then closed again. 

“Yes, you do,” she insisted, but the certainty in her voice wavered. “She kisses you on the cheek every single time you go to work with Grampa. And she gets mad when you don’t sleep. And she calls you ‘Timothy’ when you’re in trouble.”

“And she does your ties for you,” She continued, rambling, “because you always get distracted when you’re talking and then you mess it up. And she always says, ‘Come here, dummy,’ and fixes it.”

The room had gone completely quiet. Even the shadows in the room felt still. The fireplace crackled softly. A phone pinged once in the background but no one looked away.

“You know Mommy, Daddy. She—she’s gonna be mad if you say you don’t.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Tim’s heart shattered. “Hey, hey, no,” he said quickly, reaching for her hands, small and shaking. “She’s not gonna be mad. No one’s mad.”

But she wasn’t listening—not really. Her eyes darted around the room—searching for her mother in every corner, every shadow. She saw the people she knew—Grandpa, Uncle Jay, Uncle Dickie, even grumpy Uncle Dami—but not Mommy.

“Mommy always says,” she mumbled through hiccuping breaths and tears that have begun to flow down her cheeks, “that you’re really smart, and you forget stuff that’s not important…”

Her tiny shoulders shook.

“…but you never forget me and Mommy.”

Tim’s chest tightened. The world was closing in—what was going on—too fast, too much. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to breathe.

“Daddy, you dummy,” she whispered, and it broke him. “You can’t forget Mommy.”

And that was it. She crumpled, falling into him fully, sobbing now with hiccuping breaths and clenched little fists. She pressed her face to his hand holding hers and cried like her whole world had gone sideways. 

Tim didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know how to hold her. He didn’t know if he should.

But his arms moved anyway, instinct more than thought, wrapping around her small frame and pulling her in tight. Her weight, so light and yet overwhelming, settled against him like she belonged there.

His throat burned. He opened his mouth, and he whispered the only thing he could think of, even though it was a lie.

“I’m sorry, baby.” His voice trembled. “Daddy’s only joking. Of course I know Mommy”

She sniffled once. Lifted her head from his chest just enough to look him in the face. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red and shining, but there was a flicker of hope in them now—small, but it made her eyes bright again.

“…You do?”

Tim hesitated. And in that half-second, he hated himself.

“Yeah,” he lied again, smiling through the crack in his heart. “Of course I do.”

She stared at him for a moment longer. Then let out a tiny, hiccupy breath and buried her face in his shirt again.

“Daddy, you dummy,” she whimpered, pouting into his chest. “I’m telling Mommy you’re a meanie.”

That nearly undid him.

A broken laugh caught in his throat, and it sounded more like a gasp. He hugged her closer, eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You should. She might yell at me, though”

“She’ll ground you,” Gia  mumbled, and though she was still hiccuping, there was a smile in her voice now. “No phone time.”

Tim let out another shaky breath. “Brutal.”

Her little arms curled tighter around his neck.

“You better say sorry,” she said seriously, one last sniffle escaping.

Tim’s laugh broke through this time. “Daddy’s sorry, baby.”

Behind them, no one spoke.

Tim held Gia a little closer.

He didn’t know her mother. Didn’t remember having a daughter.

But the child in his arms believed in him.

So he kept holding her.

Gia had cried herself to sleep.

Alfred had taken her from Tim the moment they realized she was too tired to stay upright. He’d carried her gently past the quiet hallway and into the sanctuary of Tim’s bedroom. The others hadn’t followed.

Now she lay in Tim’s room, small and still, her arms wrapped tight around the Red Robin plush like it was armor. She was asleep within minutes, curled into the center of the bed like she belonged there. Her cheeks were blotchy, her breathing soft and uneven from exhaustion. 

Down by the drawing room, the heavy silence left behind still lingered. 

They didn’t know what to make of her. Neither did Tim. He didn’t know who she really was. He didn’t know who her mother was. Didn’t even know how she got here. 

And still didn’t know why she called him “Daddy”.

The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting shadows over wood and marble. Tim, seated, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fingers locked together. Focused. Trying to make sense of the impossible.

Dick was the one who broke the silence.

“You didn’t see her when she appeared,” he said gently. “One second the room was empty. Then, she was just there.”

“No alarms,” Jason added. “No signs of breach. Nada. It was like she’d teleported.”

Tim’s brows pulled together. “No signs of a Zeta Beam?”

“Possible.” Bruce said. “Highly likely considering she mentioned Bart earlier.”

“Gia said,” Dick began, “that he told her not to touch the ‘glowy thing’. Then she blinked and ended up here.”

Tim’s mouth felt dry. “And she knew all of you?”

“By name,” Damian grumbled.

Tim exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “She could be a clone. We can’t rule that out.”

Jason raised a brow. “She said before that she wasn’t.”

“We can’t assume she’s telling the truth. Not yet.” Bruce said, voice firm.

“She’s a child.” Jason shot back. “A weird one, sure, ‘cause she didn’t even flinch when the Demon Spawn glared at her, but still a child.”

“Children can lie,” Damian said coolly, arms still folded. “Especially when taught to.”

Jason scoffed. “She’s four,” he said, throwing a hand in the air. “You’re telling me a four-year-old can lie well enough to fool us? All of us? At the same time?”

Damian didn’t flinch. “Age doesn’t guarantee innocence.”

“She could be telling the truth,” Tim said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “We need… something. Something to believe her.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What kind of proof could a four-year-old have?” Dick asked, frowning. “Crayon drawings? An imaginary friend who vouches for her?”

Damian didn’t miss a beat. “The kind that bleeds,” he said coldly. “DNA. Unquestionable data.”

Jason grimaced. “Jesus, demon spawn. She’s not a threat.”

Damian turned to him. “She could be. And if she is, we don’t have the luxury of sentiment. You think just because she calls you ‘Uncle,’ that makes her real? We don’t know what she is.”

“She’s a kid,” Jason snapped, pushing off from the wall. “She cried when Tim said he didn’t know her mom. You think that was a performance?”

Tim flinched.

“We’ll run the tests,” Bruce's voice cut in. “Alfred’s already prepared the labs. We’ll have answers by morning.”

Jason muttered something under his breath.

Dick leaned back in his seat, eyes flitting towards Tim. “If she is… that means you and someone else—”

“Don’t,” Tim said flatly. His voice was too raw for argument. “Not yet.”

Tim wasn’t able to sleep. 

He barely sleeps on a regular day—too much on his mind, too much to do, and not enough hours to do it. But tonight, there wasn’t even the illusion of rest.

Not with the child’s words echoing in his head.

Tim sat in the corner chair of his room, one leg folded under him, fingers wrapped around a now-cold mug of coffee. He’d changed out of his dress shirt hours ago. He hadn’t turned the lights on. He didn’t dare.

In the middle of the bed, Gia was still asleep—hands curled around the Red Robin plush like it was her most precious thing. She hasn’t stirred much. Her tiny form was buried in the blankets, hair messy, mouth slightly open in the softness of sleep. One of her feet had slipped out from under the comforter and now peeked over the edge, small toes wiggling with a dream.

The clock on his nightstand glowed past 3:00 AM. 

Still no word on the DNA.

Tim hadn’t expected results until breakfast but every minute that passed in silence stretched the knot in his chest tighter.

He kept stealing glances at the child in his bed.

She looked so safe. 

Like she belonged there.

The sun was rising by the time something happened.

There was light peeking through the windows—thin and gray, the kind of morning only Gotham could manage. It cast long shadows across the floor, faint gold lining the edges of the curtains, the dresser, the empty coffee mug cooling on the table beside him.

Tim hadn’t moved.

His back ached. His eyes burned. But he didn’t move.

The soft click of the door made Tim lift his head.

Alfred stepped in, silent as ever, a man who had crossed thresholds in this house with worse news in the past—but somehow, tonight felt heavier. He held a single envelope in one hand, the edges crisp.

Tim straightened in the chair, setting the untouched coffee aside. He didn’t ask. Didn’t breathe.

Alfred looked at him with something that wasn’t quite pity, but close enough to make his stomach turn.

He offered the envelope forward.

Tim took it, hands slower than they should’ve been.

It had already been opened. 

Of course it had. Bruce wouldn’t wait for him. Not with stakes like these.

He stared at it for a long moment.

He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a warning. A delay. A chance to prepare himself for the answer.

He didn’t get one.

His eyes dropped to the top of the first page. A simple heading:

WAYNE BIOTECH Genetic Identity Verification Report Report ID: WE-FSD-PAT-22341 Requested By: Bruce Wayne Analysis Type: Paternity – DNA Comparison Subject Information Child: Georgina Drake Alleged Father: Timothy Jackson Drake

His eyes skimmed the paper to the only line that mattered.

Probability of Paternity: 99.997%

The paper crumpled slightly at his tight grip.

Alfred didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The bed creaked softly behind him as Gia shifted in her sleep, clutching her Red Robin plush a little tighter.

The world didn’t shatter or explode.

It just shifted.

He still didn’t know how the hell she got here. He still didn’t know who the mother was. But now he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

She wasn’t lying.

She really is his daughter.

He swallowed hard. “What did Bruce say?” he asked, voice barely audible.

Alfred stood a few steps away, hands folded neatly in front of him. “He read the report. Twice.”

“And?”

A pause. Then:

“He did order secondary testing. Just to confirm. The result was the same.”

Tim let out a short, humorless breath. “That sounds about right.”

“Does the rest of the family know?” he asked after a beat.

“Master Richard saw the report with Master Bruce.”  Alfred replied gently. “Master Damian is pretending not to care. Master Jason had opted to not stay at the manor, he’ll likely find out later today”

Tim dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. “This isn’t real. It can’t be. I mean—it is. The test says it is. But how?”

He looked over at Gia again—her face half-buried in the pillow, tiny fingers still curled tight in the plush’s arm. Her lashes fluttered with sleep, mouth slightly open.

She looked so at peace. Unlike the anxiety he was feeling 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“I imagine no one does,” Alfred replied. “Not at the beginning. But you’re not alone, Master Timothy.”

ARCHIVE PART TWO

🜼 :: @jenjubili

divider: @enchanthings

[bluebeads-art]

OH, the column offset? Okay, so funny thing about that: In my previous reply, I actually wrote a little section about how my recreation is technically closer to an LCD (liquid crystal display) than a CRT, since there's no pixel offset. But I deleted it because I get self-conscious about rambling too much, and I thought it was an unnecessary side-tangent and not what you were actually talking about. Anyways my "don't ramble" filter is off now, I apologize LMAO.

After looking up the video you mentioned (I assume this one? https://youtu.be/l4UgZBs7ZGo ), whoops! Turns out I had CRTs and LCDs mixed up entirely! I thought they functioned similarly, only that CRTs had little color tubes instead of light filtered through colored filters like LCDs. (At least I think that's how LCDs work, I could be wrong again.) But no, CRTs are closer to making laser pointers go really, really fast. 😂 Thanks for sharing! I should have looked into the mechanics of CRTs instead of just the surface level of how the "pixels" display on-screen.

Speaking of, I totally forgot that the low pixel resolution of 8-bit games is a limitation of the game and not the screen, and that the screen would have a higher resolution to work with. Which would make the column offset built into CalculatedBinary's CRT shader much less... lmao.

4 and 16 sub-pixels per pixel looks a lot better

but wait, did you notice something?

What is THAT?! Why is the RGB grid not following the texture offset? Why is the vertical line of that wall crack extra thick?? (edit: wait, I think I got bamboozled by the sub pixels. Still something very wrong happening elsewhere, though.) I'm not sure, but I have guesses.

The weird... seam? only shows up in renders. At first I thought it was a problem with the fisheye lens, since it looks fine in EEVEE, which can't use it. But it looks fine in Cycles' viewport render mode?? Best guess is proper renders try to use some kind of texture level of detail to save render time, and something happened at that distance threshold.

The RGB grid not following the texture offset baffles me, because if you apply this exact same material to a sphere instead of a plane, it suddenly works... I tried everything I could think of to get it to behave on a plane, but I'm at a complete loss. Doesn't help that I don't understand the math that goes into CalculatedBinary's shader.

For the wall crack being extra thick among other pixel distortions, I think I actually know what's happening! The texture is set to "closest" aka "nearest neighbor" interpolation, which in layman terms means hard pixel borders with no blending. But if you have to resize or distort nearest neighbor images, you start to get rounding errors, for lack of a better term. So that wall crack is probably on a rounding fault line. Like the weird seam, this effect is also worse in proper renders for some reason?

So all this means true CRT authenticity wasn't going to work out even if I knew more about CRTs. 😔 Maybe this is for the best, because if I could have made it more authentic, then my perfectionism would have haunted me because this post is already out in the reblog wilds and I can't change it. The lack of sub-pixels can still haunt me, though. :) (Also I hope I didn't misunderstand what you're referring to again, lmaooo)

2025 June 25th

Kris glancing back at you when you make them kill 8-bit Susie and Ralsei messed me up, dude. That's gotta be terrifying, not knowing the player's intentions. Like, they only killed them because this is just a game, right? ...right...?

Rambling and behind-the-scenes stuff under the cut

—

Especially terrifying if Kris has the meta-knowledge that they're in a game. Because if so, the previous cope doesn't work.

Originally, I planned to recreate a screenshot of the 8-bit game only so I could paint over it. However, I was going to slap the image into Blender 3D to warp it with a fisheye lens anyways, so I had the idea of making a CRT shader. Turns out I have shader skill issues and wasn't sure where to start! So I copied the homework of u/CalculatedBinary on Reddit. (Link in replies because I'm still paranoid of the days where external URLs blocked posts from showing up in tags / searches. Filter by oldest first if you don't see it right away.)

I did make some changes, though. CalculatedBinary's shader just makes a ray tube overlay that doesn't react to the texture underneath. But I had the idea to split the RGB channels of both the CRT overlay and image texture, darken each color of ray tube by the image texture's corresponding RGB value, then recombine all 3 channels. Might be easier just to show it.

Note that the "CRT shader" input is JUST the CRT overlay. This node group slots into the stage where you mix it with the image texture. Speaking of, unless you're working with a high pixel resolution or are viewing it from far away, you'll need to blend this result with your image texture again afterwards, because uhh...! The effect's real strong, captain!

There's cheater sub-pixels in there to mimic chromatic aberration, but otherwise this is an authentic representation of how CRT screens work! I made some other tweaks to the shader to get the CRT pixels to line up with the image texture pixels more precisely, but I won't get into that unless someone asks because it's nitty-gritty perfectionism stuff.

To circle back to an earlier point, this CRT shader sorta depends on well-defined pixels, so no paint-over for me. Given how long it took me to recreate a screenshot by hand based on nothing but blurry, compressed YouTube videos, I'm considering it fair usage, LMAO. Not like I'm making money off of this.

I love using Blender to solve my problems. Don't know how in the goddamn fisheye lenses work? Blender. Want to make or borrow image filters? Blender. Want that filter to follow the image's perspective? Yep, Blender.

I have minor beef with some of the anatomy and shading, but this piece was taking too long, it's Time to Stop. 😂 I friggin' cooked on the line art and their hair though, heck yea. A shame the dark shadows ate some of it.

Time taken was 33 hours and 38 minutes (at minimum. Forgot to time some of my Blender side-quests.)

[biellescouts]

loser wall

choi san x f!reader

a/n; this picture of him is so work crush… sigh

cw: kinda a crack fic, curse words, (1) dirty joke, logic who?, smut — san eats the cookie, unprotected sex ( zont zo it… ), office sex, vocal san🗣️

summary: wooyoungie thinks you’re too introverted & bets on the fact that you won’t be able to make friends at this office party so you prove him wrong. & then some.

the dark open-office is illuminated various lanterns hanging from the ceiling. not everyone is dancing, but nevertheless, bodies push and shuffle past eachother as people try to navigate the space.

you and your colleague, song mingi, have chosen to stand back from the bustle of the party and just talk amongst eachother. and you wonder why you’re not so popular amongst the others…

loud pop music vibrates the wall you’re leant against. you take a sip of your drink, readying yourself to complain, “this office too damn small. i told joongie we should have rented somewhere out. not like he can’t afford it.”

mingi slowly turns his head in your direction, “joongie?”

“yeah, hongjoong. big boss.”

mingi scoffs, “why do you even call him that? you know he doesn’t like you right?” and you sigh.

“no, mimi, it’s not that he doesn’t like me. that’s just our dynamic. we’re grumpy x sunshine, yknow?”

he groans at the mention of that trope.

“sure.”

the two of you go back to talking shit about the jobs you prayed to secure until another one of your colleagues approaches.

“hey gu— y/n, why are you drinking a can of coke through a straw? there’s literally a hole in the can to drink from.”

“yeah, you know all about hole, don’t you, wooyo?” you raise your hand for mingi to high five but he just looks off to the side and mumbles under his breath.

“cold.”

wooyoung’s face crinkles up at your comment. “wow, okay.”

“yeah, i don’t know, sorry.”

“yknow what, of course it’s you two leant up against the wall like this. zero social skills.“

you laugh but mingi takes it seriously.

“what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

wooyoung comes to stand next to you, joining you and mingi on the newly titled ‘loser wall’.

“i mean, of course it’s nonchalant mingi and quiet y/n up against the loser wall ,while everyone else has fun. i’ll bet you haven’t even spoken to anyone other than eachother.”

“you wanna bet money? because i actually spoke to jongho at the door.” you retort.

“yeah, not what i meant. i mean people you don’t already know.”

mingi pipes up, “well, i spoke to the bartender. turns out it’s not open bar.” he shrugs.

“guys. you come to work in an office full of people every day and all you have is eachother, and me. it’s time to branch out.”

you pretend to think for a second, “mm, no. i like the comfort the loser wall brings me.”

wooyoung just sighs defeatedly. his eyes widen when an idea hits him, “i challenge you.”

the ominous statement pulls a confused hum out of mingi.

“make a different friend, each, tonight. and i’ll give you a dollar.”

you and mingi both answer at the same time,

“just a dollar..?”

“bet!”

wooyoung laughs, “okay okay, mingi you can have the dollar and y/nnie i’ll make it two dollars for you, material girl.”

“pfft, okay deal.”

your hand smoothed down the pinstripe fabric of your pencil skirt as you finally departed from your precious wall. your eyes scanned over the party. who here actually looks approachable?

upon actually looking properly at the people that surround you every day, it was brought to your attention that most of the people you shared the office with were unapproachable, cunty office sirens. and this was the only situation in which that was a bad thing.

after maybe 3 minutes of trying to settle on someone to talk to, you were ready to give up. just the thought of trying to talk to someone as aura-maxed out as park seonghwa sent a shiver up your spine.

you threw your empty coke can and straw in the trash and made a run for the hall where the individual offices were — specifically hongjoong’s. you were sure he would love to hear your little vent right now about how hard it is to make friends in your mid twenties, especially in the workplace and—

thump

you let out a yowl of pain, bringing your hand up to your forehead. the walls that once brought you comfort had stabbed you in the back... or rather, in the front.

but this wasn’t any old wall. it actually wasn’t a wall at all. not a wall, but a man you had just walked into.

“oh shit, sorry.” his hands found the sides of your upper arms. “you okay?”

a man.

“oh my god, hello.” you blinked at the man stood before you. clad in black, thin-framed glasses and a light grey shirt with a darker grey vest over it. his shoulders were broad and wide and the way his shirt stretched ever so slightly around his arms made you feel dizzy.

a pink blush settled on his cheeks. “um, hi.”

“what, um, what are you doing down here.” you looked around the dim hallway to see if anyone else was there.

“hm, i could ask you the same thing.”

“uhhh okay. i came to talk to mr kim… now, what are you doing?”

“no, yeah, i’m lost. looking for a bathroom.”

“lost?” you furrowed your brows at him, “wait are you new?”

he nodded, “mhm.” at you before looking down at his feet.

“ahh, that explains a lot.”

“oh?”

“no, like, i would have noticed you by now. if you weren’t.”

“oh.”

“no! in the sense that—“

the man laughed quietly, “wait, i understand what you’re trying to say. don’t worry.”

you brought two finger to massage your nose bridge out of sheer embarrassment. suddenly, after flickering for a good few seconds, a light bulb lit up in your brain.

“wait, let’s be friends.”

the handsome strangers eyes lit up.

“i feel like that is such a cringey sentence to say but like, yeah, we should make friends. right now. wait, shit, you need the bathroom..”

“no, i didn’t actually need it. i was just gonna kind of… sit. in there.”

you scrunch your brows together. “ew, dude.” you slide your back down the wall and sit on the floor in the barely lit hall.

“i mean, i don’t know anyone yet. so i was just kinda nervous and i needed to go somewhere alone and practice ice breakers. and my names san, by the way.” he crouched to sit next you on the floor.

“wait, aww. that’s kinda me.”

he smiled at your comment, revealing deep dimples in his smooth cheeks. you held out your hand awkwardly to introduce yourself, “now you know one person.” you beamed at him.

“you’re so kind… and like, super outgoing. you probably know everybody here.”

you laugh awkwardly, “pshh. totally.” which makes him laugh.

as your conversation with san progressed, wooyoung’s pestering started to make more and more sense. talking to people was so easy.. you just open your mouth and make sounds. or maybe it was just san who was easy to talk to.

after the initial slightly awkward stage, he started to tell you about loads of different things. where he was from, his cat that he had at home, the job he had before this one. to anyone else, it would look like you’d known him a lot longer than just two hours.

“i don’t know why you didn’t just go in there, you seem pretty confident to me.” you hummed, genuinely confused.

san fixed his glasses, “that’s because i know you now. i don’t know those guys.”

“uh. get to know them. that’s what we just did.”

“yeah, but we had a meet-cute. top five least awkward icebreakers is a meet-cute.”

“just go and bump into somebody else.”

he just raised a brow at you.

“okay, listen. maybe it would be hard to approach some people in there, but you’re cute, so i guarantee you that if you were to walk in there, someone would approach you first.”

san’s eyes widened with a shocked smile, “wait, what?”

“oh, don’t give me the ‘i’m cute?’ right now.”

he dropped his face down into his hands.

“oh my god, breaking news: boss level fine shyt discovers that women are attracted to him. sound the alarm.”

“stop, i’m going red.”

you playfully poke at the hands on his face, “hey, where’d you go? choi san?”

he sighs a muffled, “gimme a minute.” through his hands before taking a deep breath.

“okay so. i’m mildly aware that i may be attractive to some people.”

“right.”

“but hearing that from someone you’re also attracted to feels. very interesting.”

“ouh. slight plot twist there.”

he snickers, “and you’re funny which kind of makes it worse.”

“ew, stop.” you playfully punch him in the side, before looking him in the face again. “wooyoungie’s gonna kill me.”

“who?”

“my friend, wooyoung, he works here. he’ll be pissed that i found you first.”

sans body vibrates with a low chuckle, “he’ll be okay, i’m sure.”

“one can only hope.”

the bustle of the party seems as though it’s fallen silent as you hold eye contact with your handsome stranger acquaintance. heat creeps up your neck as you think of anywhere to look other than his big brown eyes. you find that your vision flicks down to his lips instead. idiot.

his brows raise and he speaks barely above a whisper, “oh. do you wanna kiss me?”

you scoff defensively, “wow, full of yourself much?” and his head jolts back slightly in shock.

“oh, god, i thought—

one of your hands flies up to land on his chest, “no wait, i was kidding, im sorry.”

you suppress your laughter just enough to slot your lips against his. his lips are pillowy soft on yours as he reaches a hand up to the back of your neck. tilting his head slightly, he deepens the kiss, brushing the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip. the party is almost, almost forgotten and your hands find their way to the back of his head but as soon as you scratch your nails across his scalp — he lets out a low whine and you immediately pull away.

he wipes his mouth with worried eyes, “what?”

“you just reminded me that civilisation is literally a few feet down the hallway.”

“ohh. sorry.” he rubs the back of his neck, shyly.

“it’s cool but let’s move.” you push up onto your feet, smoothing down your skirt once again and grabbing san’s hand to help him up. keeping hold of his hand, you lead him to the doorway of an empty office at the end of the hall, standing behind him and pushing him in, “are we stopping?”

“go in here.”

you shut and locked the door behind you, immediately cupping his face and bringing his lips back down to yours. san hums into the kiss at the feeling of your hands all over his body. he moves his hands up to your hips and starts pushing you backwards into the desk.

“this is so hot.. you’re so hot.” he mumbles in between kisses.

his lips move away from yours onto your neck as he lifts you onto the desk. your head lolls back and you whine from the feel of his tongue against your skin.

“wait..” you pat his shoulder and he pulls away immediately, pupils blown out with lust. “i want you to fuck me.”

if it was even possible, the tips of sans ears became even more red.

“can, uhm— can i eat you out? first?” he furrows his brows at you, “please.”

you nod your head at him and he immediately sinks down to his knees, sliding off your heels and pulling down your stockings. his lips latch onto your thighs, desperately sucking and kissing all over and fighting with his moral compass on whether to leave marks or not. your hands find home in his brown locks, tugging when his nose nudges your clit over your panties.

“you smell so fucking good. can i take this off.” he pulls at the hem of your underwear.

you nod again, “mhm.” and he drags them down your soft legs, agonisingly slowly.

“holy shit, you’re wet.” his thumb swipes over your pussy making you twitch, “is this from kissing me? or being scared we might get caught?”

san doesn’t allow you the time to respond before he presses a sloppy kiss to your cunt pulling a low whine from your throat. his tongue flattened against your pussy as he lifted your thighs upwards to get a better angle. san was a messy eater, drooling and moaning into your pussy until your thighs started to quiver around his head. the lewd sounds of his lips slurping at your core only brought you closer to the edge but he pulled away with a gasp resting his forehead on your inner thigh.

“oh, are you okay? san?” you pushed some sweaty strands of hair out of his face.

“i can’t— if i kept going i would have cum in my pants. need to fuck you.” he panted quietly and you looked up at the ceiling.

“oh, i’ve won.”

he looked up from between your legs, “hm?”

“hm? no, nothing nothing. come back up here.”

he quickly unzipped his pants and glided his fist up his shaft a couple of times before lining up with your pussy.

“you okay?” he asked you with a reassuring rub of his hand against your hip and you nodded for him to to slide in.

“mmfuck..” his head dropped down onto your shoulder as he pushed into you, “you’re so tight.”

the wetness from him eating your pussy made it easy for him to slide in and easier for him to start moving. he started to thrust into you fast, “we can’t stay in here for long so i need you to, please, cum for me. soon.”

you could only nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth while you tried not to moan. the sound of your hips clapping together bounced of the wall as well as the echo of your gasps.

one of san hands reached down to the space between you to rub your clit, “come on, get close for me, baby.” his thrusts started to become uncoordinated.

“s’gonna make me cum if you cum for me first.” he whined into your neck and this pushed you over the edge. you wrapped your legs around his torso as he braced himself on the desk behind you. san’s orgasm washed over him in a series of whimpers from trying to keep as quiet as possible.

you hold onto his shoulder, “wait, keep it in for a sec. i don’t wanna make a mess.” which makes him twitch inside you.

his heavy breath is warm against your shoulder, “is this your office?” — silence.

then the two of you burst out laughing. because…. no.

“that’s fucked.”

your laughter comes to a sudden halt when footsteps can be heard ascending up the hallway.

“oh my god, grab shit off the floor and go behind the couch.” you start shuffling across the floor and make it behind the office couch just before the footsteps pause before the door of the office you’re in. typical.

“oh, it smells funny as fuck in here.” — park seonghwa. “goddamn.”

after wafting at the air for a second and fixing his bangs, he sighs. “so this is my new office… hmm…”

and you have to bury your face in san’s shoulder to stifle your laughter.

seonghwa stalks towards the door again, pausing to whisper, “this is the life.” before making his way back out.

“ouwf, drama king.” you rifled around in the back of your skirt, pulling out your phone and san raises his brows at you.

“wait, what are you doing?” he leans over your shoulder slightly.

“telling wooyoungie i made a friend.”

“holy shit..” san turns away to stare into space.

“no, stop, it’s like a dare. it’s a whole thing.”

“no, yeah, of course.”

a/n; seonghwa is so girl who’s going to be okay… bless him

[euniexenoblade]

Purple Plastic - transfem tf smut

This was a tease I did with a friend on Discord some weeks back. I liked the story I spun to get her off and decided to make it into a story. I hope y'all like it, enjoy~ 💜

You awaken to find yourself in the dark. You are on your knees, your arms stretched above you, restraints around your wrists. You can barely feel the chains attached to the restraints with the tips of your fingers. You try to struggle, but they have no give. You cannot even sit down, the restraints are holding your arms up too high. You can feel a cold hard floor under your knees, you can feel a chill across your naked body.

Just then, you hear stomping from the distance, hinges creaking, and a light fills the room with the flip of a light switch. "Oh! You're awake already?! The drug I gave you must not have been as strong as I thought!"

You're briefly blinded, the sudden bright light overwhelming you. But, as your eyes adjust to the room, you realize you are in your own basement, the restraints are ones you've used for bondage, and your captor at the door is your beautiful, magnificent Dom. She stands at the door smiling at you, wearing nothing but lingerie, her strap-on harness, rubber gloves and holding a bucket with one hand.

"O-Oh, are we d-doing a scene t-today, ma'am?" you ask.

"Hm? Scene? Oh no, today we're going to help you transition into your true self!"

Confusion on your face, she walks over to you, setting the bucket next to your legs, and starts to run her hands through your hair. "You and I both know you struggle day to day, we both know you're not a human, and we both know this skin is so...limiting for a toy like you~"

You blush. "So it is a scene?" you think to yourself.

She stops touching you, instead choosing to finally reveal the contents of the bucket. She pulls the lid off and inside you see a sleek, purple colored goo and a silver, metal scoop sitting inside. "When thinking about it, I like purple sex toys the best and I thought that color would suit the new you!"

"W-wat, you m-mean-"

"Mhmmm, I'm going to make you an actual toy, whether you want it or not." She grips the scoop, she slowly fills it with the goo, and from a few inches above it, slowly pours it back out into the bucket, letting you see every drop of the purple substance dripping back in. "Nowadays there's all these sleek machines that automate this process. But personally? I want to turn you into a toy myself. I want to hear every whimper, I want to hear every moan, I want to see your body contort. I don't want an impersonal machine, you're my custom made sex toy, I want the pleasure of seeing every inch of you turn into a smooth, plastic toy."

Watching the goo slowly drip back into the bucket, you hang on her every word. The prospect of being a real, actual sex toy scares you, and yet-

"Awww, you're hard! You actually want this!"

"N-no I d-don't-"

"You don't have to hold back sweet thing, it's happening no matter what~"

Before you can stammer out an argument, she fills the scoop up with some of the material and slowly trickles it down your chest. The goo slowly runs across you like water, spreading in every direction across your chest. As it does, you feel your skin grow cold, like ice water being spilled on you, until you finally feel your body turning....harder and more stiff. You look down and see your skin turning into a sleek purple that reflects the light. As it runs down your breasts, they get bigger, and bigger, and your nipples are getting more sensitive, even the cold air of the room is making them ache.

You can't help but let out a moan.

"See, isn't this what you always wanted? Giant breasts for me to play with? Sensitive nipples for me to twist and squeeze?" She reaches out and lightly pinches your nipples, making you give out a very quick yelp and moan. "Oh, you're going to be so perfect once I'm done with you."

Once again she picks up the scoop from the bucket and slowly trickles the goo along your leg. Your leg starts to change shape, becoming rounder, and sleek and purple, as expected of a toy. Your foot slowly shrinking and rounding, with cute little cat paws being etched onto the bottom of the foot.

You start to breath heavy. You're so very excited. But, so very scared. "H-hey-"

But she doesn't wait. She scoops up even more material this time, and drops it down the bottom of your tummy. As expected you turn purple and plastic, but as it reaches your crotch you start to feel very different. You look down again and see your cock shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking, until it's not there anymore. Instead, you see your hole form, a pussy for the fleshlight you are becoming. And it's dripping wet, the intensity of your horniness rises, you feel so hot down there, you need someone inside you, you ache to feel something inside you.

Between heavy breaths you beg, "Ma'am, p-please, fuck me. I need it. I need it. I need it I need it I need it-"

She only laughs at you. "We're not done yet."

Another scoop full of material is readied. This time she dumps it on your head. You can feel it running down your face and chin, all in your hair, the cold liquid spreading everywhere and even forcing it's wau into your mouth and nose. You feel your head smooth out, no sharp edges remain, two triangles appear on top of your head, two little cat ears to add to the aesthetic. As the material goes to work in your mouth, you feel it start to solidify, like a cock going down your throat, gagging you. "You see, your mouth isn't necessary anymore, little kitten! When the material hits a big amount of saliva, it forms a gag! If I need you to be quiet, I just leave you as is, if I want to hear your cute kitty moans or use your mouth, I can remove that piece in your throat. Isn't that fun? So even if I'm not using your mouth, you'll always feel like you're deep throating!"

The old you would have blushed at this. But now you're physically incapable of it. Your face is a toy. A silicon sex toy. And with that, your thoughts start to change. There's no embarrassment, there's no shame or fear. "I want your cock, I want your cock, please cum in me!" you try to moan. But you can't. There's a gag in your mouth and throat. "Doesn't that feel good? All the stress of your human life fading away. All your fears fading away. All you need now is cock. All you need now is to be used. You're only a sex toy now."

Another scoop full, and you watch your other leg morph into its true plastic self. Now she starts pouring it down your arms. Your hands shrinking, rounding out, turning into more paws, your elbows straighten, your arms are becoming less bendable as they turn to toy.

She undoes your restraints, you couldn't fight back now if you wanted to. She pushes you forward onto what used to be your tummy, and she pours more material all across your back. You feel the cold material on your skin cling, and combine, slowly, inch by inch, hiding the last of your skin forever, replacing it with the smooth plastic. Once the material gets to your backside, you feel it enter your hole, stretching it for easier entry, in case multiple people want to be inside you. And to conclude your transformation, a small little cat tail forms, making you the perfect catgirl fuck toy.

She walks over to the other side of the room and picks up a dildo, placing it into the harness. Returning to you she flips you onto your back and she pushes you down by the shoulders and starts to rub the head of the strap against your new, hot, dripping, plastic pussy. The pings of pleasure hit you hard, you need her to enter you so much. "This is how you always should have been, a plastic kitten to take cock. Now that I have the most perfect toy ever, I'm going to have to bring over all my friends, we can fill every hole as much as we want, and you'll love it, cuz you're a plastic toy I made for it."

You would agree and moan, but you can't. You're a toy, and you lay there as she shoves her strap in you and begins to fuck you. Immense pleasure fills your body. Every thrust overwhelms you with joy, love and pleasure. You need this. You need more of this. "Do you wonder why I chose to use a strap-on to fuck you instead of my cock?" She waits an adequate time for you to answer. But you don't. That's not what you're made to do. You're just a sex toy. She leans close to your little cat ear and whispers, "I wanted to see what it was like to fuck a purple silicon sex toy with a purple silicon sex toy~"

You are unmoved by her words. You can't do anything anymore on your own anyways. You are a sex toy now. That is your life, to be used.

[floraliike]

K-pop Demon Hunters | Fanfic

Seven minutes to forever

Abby x curvy/chubby reader.

Fluff, idolAU, mutual pinning | 2/?

Part 1 - Part 3 | (m.list)

Abby's POV

The "post-concert hangout" was less a wild party and more a decompression zone.

A private lounge backstage, comfortable sofas, and a table laden with snacks. It was usually a chaotic but comforting end to a show. Tonight, though, it felt like a battlefield.

My battlefield.

Y/N was laughing again, this time with Rumi, Jinu’s girlfriend. Rumi, with her easy smile, was always good at making people feel comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe. I watched as Baby, that little menace, sidled up to Y/N, practically purring.

"Y/N-noona," he cooed, leaning in close enough that I could practically feel his breath from across the room. "You were simply radiant tonight. So articulate, so charming. You outshone us all."

My jaw tightened.

Radiant? Charming?

He was laying it on thick.

And Y/N, bless her oblivious heart, was just giggling, her cheeks flushed. "Oh, Baby, you're just saying that!"

"Never!" Baby insisted, then deliberately slid his hand to rest lightly on her arm, his thumb gently stroking. "I am merely stating facts. Perhaps you’d let me treat you to a proper, celebratory meal tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

I saw Red.

My hand clenched into a fist, my sharp nails digging into my palm. I heard Jinu snicker from the sofa. Romance, ever stoic, just raised an eyebrow at me, a silent "Are you going to do something about it?"

"Relax, Abby," Mystery murmured, appearing beside me as if materializing from the shadows. "He's just trying to light a fire under you. It's working, isn't it?"

"It’s not working! It’s… annoying!" I hissed, though my gaze was still locked on Baby and Y/N. She was politely declining Baby’s offer, but her smile was still so bright, so open. Didn't she see him? Didn't she know? He was practically laying a trap!

My heart ached with the longing to be the one making her laugh like that, to be the one she'd consider for a "proper, celebratory meal."

But then that familiar cold dread crept back in.

What if I tried, and she pulled away? What if the truth of what I am, what we are, just… broke everything? This comfortable, happy dynamic, where she saw me as a kind, friendly idol. I didn't want to lose that.

Reader's POV

The after-party was buzzing. The boys were already unwinding, some playing a portable video game, others chatting animatedly with the staff and their girlfriends. It was always a nice way to decompress.

Rumi, Jinu’s girlfriend, a sweet girl with an infectious laugh, nudged me. "So, Y/N," she began, her eyes twinkling. "Abby was practically glowing every time you translated tonight. You two have quite the synergy."

I felt my cheeks warm. "Oh, he's just really good with fans, you know? And I try my best to capture his energy."

Mira, Romance’s girlfriend, leaned in, her voice a playful whisper. "Are you sure it's just 'energy'? Because from where I was standing, his eyes never really left you when you were on stage helping translate."

Zoey, Mystery's partner, always the observant added, "It's quite obvious, Y/N. The way he looks at you. It’s like you’re the sun."

I scoffed, trying to hide my escalating blush. "You guys are crazy! He's just... really nice. And professional. He's like that with everyone." I wanted to believe it so badly, but a tiny, hopeful part of me always wondered.

No, I reminded myself firmly.

He’s an idol. You're staff. Don't be silly.

Just then, Baby appeared, his expression a theatrical pout. "Y/N-noona, you broke my heart! You declined my dinner invitation!"

I giggled. "Baby, you know it's sweet of you, but I have to catch an early flight for the next leg of the tour."

"Ah, but a true Prince of Performance never gives up!" he declared, puffing out his chest. He cast a quick, triumphant glance over my shoulder, which I barely registered. "Perhaps a late-night dessert in the hotel lounge, then? Just a quick one?"

I was about to politely decline again when my eyes flickered, and I thought I caught a flash of something in Abby’s face across the room – a tightening of his jaw, a quick, almost jealous glance – before he quickly averted his gaze.

No, couldn't be, I dismissed.

He's probably just wondering why Baby is being so dramatic.

Or maybe it's just my exhaustion.

The thought of his eyes, if they really had flashed that striking yellow, sent a curious shiver through me. It wasn't fear, but a strange pull, a fascination. They had been surprisingly captivating, a vivid burst of color I found oddly attractive.

My thoughts where interrupted as Jinu called out, "Alright, everyone! Snack run! Who needs more energy drinks? Y/N, you want anything?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you!" I called back, relieved by the distraction. The girls were now looking at me with knowing smiles.

"Go get some snacks, boys!" Rumi chirped, shooing them. "Leave us to our girl talk."

As the boys headed towards the snack table, I felt a familiar pair of eyes on me. I turned just in time to see Abby, his bright smile faltering slightly as he looked between me and Baby, before he quickly turned away, heading off with the others. My chest felt a familiar pang.

He looked… disappointed? But why? Was he just that invested in Baby’s comedic flirting?

"So," Mira whispered, once the boys were out of earshot, "he's clearly head over heels. What about you, Y/N?"

I hugged myself, the warmth from his earlier touch on my hand still lingering. "I just... I don't know. He's so kind. But he's Abby. An idol. How could he possibly...?" My voice trailed off, my arms wrapping tighter around myself.

Could I really confide in them?

Letting out a sigh and closing my eyes, tired of hiding this secret anymore, I confided in the girls. This was it.

The words tumbled out.

"Okay, fine. You're right. I do... I really like him. Like, like him like him." My voice dropped to a whisper. "But it's just so impossible, isn't it? Our jobs, the fans... And he's so genuinely kind to everyone. I think he's just being nice. He doesn't actually feel anything like that for me." The longing a physical ache in my chest.

If only I knew for sure.

If only he would say something.

Anything.

Abby's POV

As Jinu corralled us towards the snack table, I cast one last glance at Y/N, watching her with the girls. Her laughter was contagious, and it hurt that Baby was the one making her laugh so easily tonight.

My frustration simmered, a tight knot in my chest.

"Seriously, Hyung," Baby chirped, pulling a variety of fruit juices from the cooler. "You look like you're about to implode. Just go talk to her."

"It's not that simple!" I snapped, snatching a bottle of water. "You think I haven't tried? What if she—"

"What if she runs because we're demons?" Mystery finished, his voice calm as he picked out a bag of chips. "That's your hang-up, isn't it?"

"It's a valid concern!" I shot back, though my voice cracked slightly. "It's not like I can just walk up and say, 'Hey, by the way, I'm a supernatural being with glowing eyes and a purplish true form, want to get coffee?'" The thought of her beautiful face contorting in disgust was a constant, crippling fear.

Romance chuckled, a low, smooth sound. "You make it sound so dramatic, Abby. She's seen our true forms, she's seen the residual glamor... Even if she doesn't know it's real. She's already working with us. Give her more credit."

"Yeah," Jinu added, pulling a couple of energy drinks from the back of the fridge. "She's always so composed, even when things get... weird. She's tougher than you think. And she clearly likes you."

"She likes me?" I scoffed, remembering Baby's earlier grandstanding. "Or is it the guy who just asked her out for dessert in the lounge? Who's been practically draped all over her tonight?" My gaze narrowed at Baby, who suddenly looked very innocent, whistling a tune as he stacked snacks.

"Oh, is that what this is about?" Baby grinned, feigning surprise. "You worried about a little healthy competition, Hyung?" He nudged my side playfully.

"Competition?" My voice rose. "You were practically trying to marry her on the spot, you little brat! Stop flirting with her!"

Baby just laughed, leaning against the snack table. "Only if you admit that you want to marry her instead, Hyung."

My face flushed.

My bandmates were clearly enjoying my torment. They knew exactly how to push my buttons. The anger quickly dissolved into embarrassment, leaving me stewing in my own conflicted emotions. It was obvious to them, so why wasn't it obvious to her?

Or was it just that she didn't care about what was so obvious?

a/n: it has multiple parts now :D

[urmum-lovesme]

I'm actually in love with dad!rafe and how you write their little family!! Could you maybe write a little bit more about reader when she's pregnant with baby cameron?

They make me so happy like he loves them so much

Morning sickness?

That was a joke.

It was all-day sickness.

Y/N groaned, leaning her head against the cool window of Rafe’s Range-Rover.

Her stomach felt like it was flipping over itself, her body constantly stuck between hungry and absolutely not. The sun had just started dipping below the tree line, painting the sky in streaks of soft orange and pink and the car rumbled steadily down the back roads, the windows cracked just enough to let in the warm summer air. One of her hands was splayed over her rounded bump, the silky fabric of her baby pink dress pooling around her lower calves. It clung in all the right places, highlighting the curve of her belly, but right now all she cared about was how uncomfortable she felt.

“Ugh. Why did I agree to this?”

“You were the one who insisted we go to the Midsummers preview dinner.”

Rafe glanced at her amused, he was in a crisp button-up the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top buttons undone.

“I know, but I forgot how hot it is in July. Forgot how much I hate being in a car for more than ten minutes now."

Y/N never thought the nausea would be the worst part of pregnancy. Everyone had told her it stopped after a while, that once she made it past the first trimester, things would get easier. They clearly lied. Because here she was, seven months pregnant still feeling sick every time she got into any car.

"And I forgot—”

“That you get nauseous every five seconds?”

Rafe cut in as he indicated pulling the car up on the side of the road, already reaching behind his seat. Y/N paused as she squinted at him.

“Rude.”

Rafe just smirked as the sound of plastic package rustling filled the car and he pulled out the familiar pack of saltine crackers which had become a new addition to their shopping list in the past months, and held them out.

“Not rude, just prepared.”

Y/N blinked at them, completely taken by surprise, the blue packaging staring up at her, “...did you just pull that out of nowhere?”

“I keep ‘em in here for you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words. He'd gone out of his way to keep a pack of crackers in the car for her? The Rafe Cameron drives around with saltine crackers in his car- just for her.

“You… keep crackers in your car? Just in case I get sick?”

“Of course baby, you’re always sick nowadays.”

Rafe spoke again, eyes on her as he held the packet out to her waiting patiently for her to take them. Y/N gave him a look before picking up the package from his hold and opening them.

“Aww Rafey...”

Rafe chuckled as the sweet sound passed her lips, shaking his head before reaching back again- this time pulling out a cold bottle of ginger ale from the back console. He cracked the cap open before handing it over. Y/N gasped in shock as the cold bottle hit her palms. 

“You chilled it?”

“I swap ‘em out when I go to the store, I know you don't like them warm”

Rafe shrugged like it was nothing as Y/N gawked at him in pure shock. Never in a million years was she expecting this, and she couldn't lie that it made her a little emotional- or maybe that was just the hormones speaking.

“You keep ginger ale in here too?”

“Babe. If I didn’t, I’d have to pull over every five minutes so you could dry heave on the side of the road.”

Rafe sighed, as he pulled back onto the road continuing their shortly stopped journey. Y/N snorted at his words even though truthfully she was melting inside. She did take a sip, though. And, of course, it helped. The carbonation settled her stomach instantly, the coolness soothing her throat. She sighed, relaxing into her seat.

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

Rafe smirked and Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Rafe just shook his head, squeezing her knee with his free hand, his palm smoothing over the silky soft material.

“We can turn around, you know. We don’t have to go.”

“No, we do,” Y/N let out a deep breath, looking down at her belly, “I just… need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Y/N sighed, cracking the window down a little more as she let the cool wind brush against her face. The motion of the car felt less suffocating now, the nausea fading little by little. She took another sip of ginger ale.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I suspected.”

Rafe smirked as Y/N turned her head to face him, her hand coming to rest over his which was still on her knee.

“I really love you.”

Rafe glanced at her then, catching the way her eyes were soft and glassy, her face still a little sickly but filled with so much love. His grin fell into something softer. More real. He squeezed her knee again.

“I love you more sweet girl.”

And just like that, the nausea didn’t feel so bad anymore.

sorry this is a little short but I thought this idea was so cute cause wdym big bad Rafe Cameron drives around with crackers in his car 😭

[wistfulcynic]

I like the paddy/eoin content a lot BUT Paddy Mayne was a real person who was fucking women irl, and the show has been intentionally playing with queerness for the story line (which is problematic in many many ways). You can't be mad at people for writing what is canonically correct (with real life as the original source material). The middle ground is him being considered bisexual and then everyone can write the fics they want to write about a dead man

hoo boy.

i really should ignore this but hey ho what the fuck. Let's dive in.

so i AM going to ignore your mind boggling assertion that paddy 'was fucking women irl' because what. lol. and focus instead on 'the show has been intentionally playing with his queerness as a story line' and 'the middle ground is him being considered bisexual' because again, lol, but at least with this we are getting close to the actual issues here.

firstly, what the real paddy did or didn't do is irrelevant because nobody, and i mean nobody in any way involved in this conversation is writing RPF about a dude dead these 70 years. Do not come in here pretending that the paddy x f!reader or fem!oc is actually about the real paddy mayne. That is a straw man argument and i personally will laugh you out of the room if you (general 'you', not just anon) keep putting it forward. It's ridiculous, fucking stop.

what we can talk about is how his sexuality is portrayed on the show. In order to do that we all need to put our media literacy hats on, but i know some of you don't have those so in that case just try to pay attention.

we have to start by talking about what the show is, primarily that it is ahistorical. It says so right on the tin and of course no one is expected to believe that the real SAS went around blasting Highway to Hell for extremely obvious reasons. The show also as we know has taken some liberties with the characterisations of the real people involved. This again is irrelevant because we are not writing RPF. Discussions about how real people can/are/should be interpreted in television and films are interesting and valid but they don't belong here. We're looking *only* at the show characters and how they are portrayed and what we as viewers are intended to understand from that.

now despite my having just said that the show is deliberately ahistorical it is still firmly set in the past and certain expectations arise from that. We expect the characters to dress in period fashion, we expect them to drive period accurate vehicles and shoot period accurate weapons. We expect them to talk about killing Germans and Italians which they clearly would not do today. We also expect them to display period accurate attitudes to certain social issues, namely in this case homosexuality or queerness in general.

we expect this because while we are able to suspend disbelief about the soundtrack or the choice to cast a 5'7" actor to play someone who was 6'4" irl, suspension of disbelief refers to the reader/audience's willing choice to accept the artistic premise of what they are reading/watching for the sake of the story being told. Suspension of disbelief refers to accepting improbable coincidences that move the plot along or not thinking too hard about the timeline, as in the case of SAS:RH. It does NOT mean shrugging away anachronisms built into the story itself.

think of it as the walrus/fairy question that was all over tumblr last year. We are unfazed by the appearance of the fairy at our door because that only requires us to accept the existence of something we thought wasn't real. We are fazed by the walrus because how the fuck does a walrus--something we already know is real and therefore has to follow the rules of this reality--get to our door? How does it ring the bell? We accept a soundtrack of AC/DC and Judas Priest because it sets the tone of the show and is a clear artistic choice. If paddy were to appear in onscreen wearing an AC/DC t-shirt we would immediately react negatively and be taken out of the scene because even though the show is ahistorical he simply wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that. It's impossible within the premise of the show that we have already accepted.

so when you, anon, and others like you, claim that show!paddy's queerness is something the show 'intentionally plays with as a story line' what you mean is that he's not portrayed as a modern queer character would be. He doesn't kiss eoin, only ever calls him a friend, doesn't apply modern terminology to himself or speak openly about any of this. Because of course he fucking doesn't. That would be wearing an AC/DC shirt whilst sulking like achilles in his tent. It would be out of place in a way that goes against the established premise of the show. It is not reasonable to expect that from this show or this character.

as for it being fundamental to the story, well, yeah. That's storytelling. Eoin's death and paddy's reaction to it drives paddy's arc in a way that we the viewers are clearly intended to understand. That's not 'playing' with his queerness, it's drawing a very clear and logical line from 'the man he loves but can't express that love to dies tragically' to 'he isn't able to talk about his grief because that would mean articulating things he can't even acknowledge to himself' to 'the internalised grief, anger, and homophobia drives him to behave in ways that would have him locked up in another context but in the SAS has him wreathed in medals'. His queerness and our the viewers' understanding of it is essential to the show but it is not the point of the show. If you want an exploration of what it meant to be queer in the british army in wwii then that is a fanfic you should write but again, you shouldn't expect it of this show. SAS:RH is about beautiful men blowing shit up. It's not a treatise on historical queerness. Manage your expectations.

let's move on then to the laughable notion that bisexuality is in some way a 'middle ground' between straight and gay, some sort of compromise that we the audience can strike amongst ourselves so that everyone can be happy. And on this point let me just say again, hoo boy.

i've been accused of bisexual erasure in the notes of my original post which is very funny to me considering i've written bill stirling as bi in two longish fics now, in a very pointed way that involves a self-realisation arc for him. i am also old enough to have lived through the days when homosexuality was becoming more widely accepted but people on both sides of the issue were united in their refusal to admit bisexuals were real. A gay friend of mine, fresh out of the closet in 1998, told me flat out that people claiming to be bi were just 'too afraid to come out for real' so you know. I've been in the trenches.

however, none of this is relevant to the show, which very deliberately and pretty fucking obviously gives us canon gay paddy but makes an equally deliberate point of him not being into women. How do we know he isn't? Consider the loving way the camera lingers on every single touch shared between him and eoin, the softness in how they look at and speak to each other, the fucking rowboat scene, hold all of that in your mind and then compare it to how he's shown with the two women he interacts with on screen.

in the very first episode we see him in the club when eve approaches him, visibly unnerved by her and wanting to make it very clear that he's not after what he thinks she's offering. He throws the flower over the balcony in a clear statement against any potential misunderstanding. He's absolutely desperate to avoid any situation wherein he might be hit on by a woman and have to extract himself without arousing her suspicions as to why. Eve of course clocks him instantly, as we have seen her do before and more explicitly with dudley clarke. Her gaydar is spot-on and she is able to smooth his ruffled feathers at least enough to get a bit of conversation out of him before he runs away. Her approach to him is so dramatically different to the approach she takes with david in the very next scene that it's impossible not to notice. A bisexual paddy, particularly one who has a sexual history with women, would not be so afraid of being hit on by one.

which brings us to alessia, with whom he has basically no direct interaction. We do however see him being scornfully dismissive of riley's attachment to her. He doesn't really seem to understand it and views it mainly as an obstacle, which is why he makes a point of separating them in s2e5. None of this is indicative of someone who has a romantic or sexual interest in women. None.

so, to recap: show!paddy is very clearly portrayed as in love with eoin, conflicted about it, conflicted about himself and his own identity, uninterested in women and unnerved by the possibility that they may have a sexual or romantic interest in him. This is not a bisexual man and saying so is not erasure of bisexuality, it's simple media literacy and not attempting to force a non-textual interpretation to justify the kind of fic you want to write. now let me be very clear on this. Of course you can write whatever fic you like. i am not the fic police or the SAS:RH police or any kind of cop (ACAB now and always). My point is not that you aren't allowed to write paddy with women, but that if you do you are making a very particular sort of decision, which is to deny and dismiss a fundamental aspect of his character and characterisation in order to justify your choice to write self-insert fantasies wherein your fic avatar is fucking not any version of paddy mayne either real or fictional but more your fantasy version of jack o'connell in a british army uniform with an irish accent. Which you know, whatever, you do you. Just do it with the full acknowledgement and recognition of what you are doing and what that says about you, as well as accepting that the ability to do something does not imply any freedom from criticism for choosing to do it. If you write paddy fucking women the cops won't break down your door but myself and the other viewers/writers/readers who are interested in the actual character from the show as he is actually portrayed are absolutely going to judge you for doing that.

basically, have the courage of your own fucking convictions. You think it's okay to ignore the sexuality of this character and by extension all the points made by the media he's in about what that sexuality means for him and his arc within the story. You want, essentially, to make him into a different character in order that you can fantasise about fucking him. Go right fucking ahead, no one is going to stop you. But don't pretend that this action isn't tone deaf, ignorant, and fucking homophobic. Don't pretend that it's something that shouldn't make other people mad, because hey ho we can all just headcanon him as bi.

nope. lol. not happening.

[animeyanderelover]

"I wish I never had met you, I wish I was nothing but a mere human to you, cause maybe then, you wouldn't have taken me away from the people who actually and truly care for me." The reader to Claude, Black Butler plz. >-<

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, controlling behavior, abduction, isolation

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz

First Sentence Prompt

The clinking of plates being placed in front of you didn't stop. Claude didn't even look at you, too busy placing the cutlery in the right order and pouring steaming tea into your cup. Duties first. Misbehaviour after. Once everything had been arranged just the way he liked, he finally turned to look at you. What an undignified expression you wore. It made him almost sigh subtly.

"That is no way for a young and refined lady to talk. Especially not over dinner."

Dinner? In what world would this count as dinner. He was playing house with you. That was all. You were merely a doll he had dressed up to look pretty for him and otherwise he only moved you exactly like he wanted you to move. He may have been dressed like the servant here but he was the puppeteer moving all the strings.

You didn't care about pretty dresses or the meals he had prepared and served for you. You would trade it all in a heartbeat for your simple clothing and some plain soup in company of your family.

The plate of food in front of you remained untouched. You didn't even look at it. You merely turned your head stubbornly away, letting out a dismissive hum from the back of your throat.

Unfortunate. Otherwise you would have noticed the way Claude's eyelid twitched briefly before he hid it by adjusting his glasses.

"Young lady, it would be a waste to not touch your food. There is no need to starve yourself out of an immature form of protest. It won't get you anywhere. In fact it only makes you appear more immature than you are already behaving for a lady of your age."

"Excuse me??" you snapped, unable to hold yourself back in time. Perhaps you were proving yourself right but you had every reason to be mad right now. This-this bastard had abducted you, taken you away from your family only to play his twisted fantasies out with you.

"I have every right to be mad. You don't get to belittle me. I don't want this!"

Your hands flew angrily down to the dress you had been forced to wear, grabbing the material with your fists and pulling at it as if trying to tear it apart. You wouldn't care even if you did. You didn't care for shiny dresses and chocolate cake. Some things were more valuable because they couldn't be bought.

That's when one of his hands suddenly snatched one of your wrist and then the other, pinning both of them down on your lap with a force that made your bones groan.

"Enough."

It wasn't a scream. You had actually never truly heard Claude really raise his voice to a volume where it truly looked like he was losing composure. Perhaps yelling just wasn't something his kind did. Not when there really was no need for it. Not with the powers they held and the things they could do.

It was rather closer to a growl, firm and final, letting you know that he would tolerate no more from you. That you had crossed a line that you shouldn't have.

"I don't quite know from where the illusion has risen that made you believe that you are allowed to act like a spoiled and ungrateful brat but I am prepared to teach you proper etiquette again if I must."

Now his other hand come from your jaw, forcing you to look at him the moment he realised you were trying to avoid eye contact with him. That insolent behavior of yours really was just piling up now, wasn't it?

"I could treat you very differently if I wanted to. If you don't appreciate the fine clothes and the delectable meals that I prepare for you, then you may tell me so right now. I am trying to abide by what humans usually desire but if you don't want it, we can do things my way. Not gentle. Not patient. But my way. A demon's way. So if I were you, I would choose my next words very wisely because I can erase all of this in the snap of a finger."

For just a moment his eyes burned in that magenta colour that always reminded you that he truly wasn't human. That he was in fact a beast who was playing pretend as much as he was playing with you. The kindness was his courtesy and offering to do things a little bit more bearable for you, his mate. However, he didnÄt have to abide by those rules if you didn't like them. But then he would apply his rules. And that would be even worse.

You swallowed quietly, trying to hold his gaze whilst your heart was thumping beneath your chest. The devious grin that made its way on Claude's face told you that he could hear it loud and clear. That he knew that he had already won.

"Ready to enjoy your meal now, my lady?"

[shockmastervoidstate]

The shifter who helped me get on the next level in my shifting journey

After being stuck for a long time, I finally got out of a rut thanks to @zazaiafe2 , who offers an approach to reality shifting that is very different from the usual approach found in communities like this.

In this post, I want to give credit to zazaiafe2, discuss some of their observations and explain what I'm doing differently now to shift better, having read their material, plus results!

Zazaiafe2's different take on shifting — backed by science, analysis of successful shifts and interviews with successful shifters

Zazaiafe2 is a hypnotist who has a deep understanding of the consciousness, the subconsciousness and the ego.

They point out that the shifting community tends to oversimplify these three aspects and as a result, comes up with methods, approaches and attitudes that, well, don't work. Or at least they are not ideal.

These come from the many misconceptions regarding the personality traits of successful shifters and the mechanics of a reality shift.

Zazaiafe2 found that the assumption or the belief that one can/will shift is of lesser importance. It may be helpful, but it's not enough. (Not to mention that changing subconscious beliefs is not as easy as the spiritual community pretends, because the subconscious is guarded by a strong filter. Ambiguous affirmations can help bypass the filters, such as "maybe I can shift realities")

They found that the key to successful shifting is the ability to dissolve the ego — also pay close attention to the wording, you could have the biggest ego in the world, as long as you can dissolve your ego for a moment to shift, you can shift.

Luckily, they also provided practices that you can follow before you shift to dissolve your ego and boost your chances of success. Guided holotropic breath work sessions are very helpful.

A critical and overactive mind doesn't matter as long as you can silence it or keep it busy when you're trying to shift.

Positivity doesn't matter and can even hold you back during a shifting attempt, because it can make you tense. Not to mention that so many shifters shifted when they were sad.

Your brain state matters, the ideal brainwaves to have to trigger a reality shift are theta waves. This explains why so few shifts happen when the shifter is wide awake. Listening to binaural beats can be helpful.

With all that being said, shifts are still somewhat unpredictable. Even experienced shifters can usually not tell when they will shift exactly, and sometimes they shift accidentally and randomly.

----

This is what I've learned so far from zazaiafe2, there is so much more for me to learn, so don't rely on this post and pay them a visit!

What I do differently now

I started doing guided holotropic breath work sessions (I prefer the one on YouTube with the naked guy with long hair, but I will try others too), especially before I go to sleep.

It helps tremendously — my mind gets quieter, the ego seems to be "asleep" in a way and self-identification stops to some extent. For example, sometimes I get intrusive thoughts when I try to shift, like "what will I eat for breakfast tomorrow" or "why do people like Labubus". After doing the breath work session, these thoughts are strongly reduced.

My limbs feel tingly and I don't have such a strong urge to move around so much and it seems like I can see a light behind my closed eyes.

I also do sessions during the day when I have time, just to practice, and it seems like it's getting more and more effective.

When the session is over and it's time to fall asleep (and wake up in my DR), I use ambiguous affirmations such as "Maybe I'm in my DR already" to bypass the filter that guards my subconscious mind. I'm not sure, but I believe this makes it easier. At least I feel less stressed. My focus shifted from doing a method perfectly to maintaining low self-identification and surrendering rather than controlling and analyzing what's happening.

Results

I started using the techniques above just three days ago.

Not only do I have much more fun and feel less stressed when trying to shift, I almost shifted last night/ this morning.

I woke up in the night and started to feel more and more weightless and shapeless and I had the impression that my surroundings melted and were reshaping themselves into my DR.

This sensation ended after my melted surroundings reshaped themselves into my CR and I'm here now, but I must say, I feel good. Usually, I have side effects from shifting attempts like bad headaches, but today I'm fine and ready to make another attempt tonight.

Thanks for reading.

[justdeltarunethings]

So What's Going On In Deltarune?

So that's a heck of a question, huh?

Deltarune is a game hand crafted by a mad genius to encourage theorizing. One of the overarching themes is that after any level of lore drop, you have just enough information to build a compelling argument, but not enough to drive it home and exactly enough contrary information to doubt your own theory. Ask literally every single Kris-Knight diehard how they felt at the end of chapter 3.

So I asked myself: How would one go about figuring out anything? The answer I came up with was to plant a flag solidly in one point of view, as best supported by the themes of the source material, and use that point of view to closely examine all of the information we have.

And after playing chapter 4, there is one thing that is remarkably clear. Deltarune is not a game about a prophecy playing out. Deltarune is a game about a prophecy with gaps, about blank pages to be filled, and about the people who are trying to fill those pages with their own words.

The "winners" of Deltarune, character-wise, are not going to be the people who are fortold to win by some ancient dork with a pen and a massive ego, it's going to be the people with the courage to impose their will on the story.

Deltarune is a struggle between various parties trying to work between the rigid framework of an unshifting prophecy to reach the end they want to create.

So to be clear about any theory I post: The Knight is not breaking the prophecy. Kris is not breaking the prophecy. Susie is not breaking the prophecy. The SOUL is not breaking the prophecy. NO ONE is breaking the prophecy.

It's not that the prophecy has accounted for all of these variables, it's more that the prophecy has gaps. Large gaps. Gaps in detail, gaps in missing events and connections. And those gaps can be filled with anything so long as the prophecy that exists is still true.

The most obvious example of this is the prophecy of The Girl. Is it Susie? Is it Noelle? Dess? Carol? This question has been ping-ponging around theory circles since chapters 3 and 4 came out. But "Who is The Girl?" is not the right question. There is no answer within the prophecy for who The Girl is. That is left to interpretation. That is left to whoever happens to be in the right place, at the right time, doing the right things to fit into the domino chain of the prophecy.

So if you are aware of the prophecy, you can position your pieces to place your own candidates. This is true of The Girl, of the Cage, and even The Lonely Prince. It's true of The Queen, The King, and The Pointy-Headed. It's true of The Flower Man, The Angel, The Lord of Screens and The Knight. None of these are names. They are roles to be played, with the actors often yet to be chosen.

Even the pictures we see in the Dark World are interpretations. Those don't exist in the Light World. During Catty's, er..."reading", she explicitly says as much. And when we use the shadow crystal in a room with a prophecy panel, it says that the WORDS do not change. And while I don't know for sure, I suspect the pictures disappear along with the rest of the Dark World.

Anyway, that's the basis for how I view how Deltarune works. People are far too focused on the parts of the prophecy that match what we've already seen, and are thus trying to find a deterministic single answer to the parts that we haven't, rather than seeing the open spaces as opportunities that the characters within the world are also able to exploit.

I'm gonna expand on a lot more detail about a lot bigger questions within Deltarune with my own theories, but I wanted to put this post here first so I can point back to it as my overarching guiding light through the darkness. The question I return to whenever I'm stuck trying to figure something out.

But I guess I can give you a little tidbit to tide you over while I write the rest up. For example, who is The Knight?

And I mean, that one's pretty obvious.

It's Asriel Dreemurr.

Next

[illwilledomen]

Behold! The obligatory “Lore that’s too weird for me to put into a single post!” Ask. You can put any lore, regardless of how weird, here. It is welcome here. Save this for a rainy day. (I enjoy your content,,,)

ENDERSENT STUFF

The End is ruled over by Entropy (the Heart of Ender), the host of chaos and decay. Much like its fellow Hosts, it is a creator and an artist, but due to the circumstances of its existence it can only warp and mimic what already exists. Void is the essence of Everything, as in creation and destruction simultaneously, and that utterly raw material is all that Entropy has to work with.

It mimics concepts and things it is vaguely aware of using the Void. However, due to literally emanating the concept of entropy, almost everything it creates is unstable or destructive in some way. It mimicked continents witn end stone, and plant life with chorus plants, though they were inorganic. The End is littered with its failed projects. Endermen are one of its more successful creations due to their own sapience, being a mimicry of humanity. The Sent are the result of the Endermen’s entropic qualities, as they coalesced to warp their forms into larger and more predatory beings, and assumed the role of an authoritarian theocracy following Entropy. As humans from the Overworld began to discover the End, Entropy found itself enraged by their interloping with it’s civilization project. It created a gate keeper, a leviathan dragon, however much like the super-intelligent Endersent, it became ferocious and uncontrollable. It barred entry and exit from the end, destroying anything that got close enough. The only entities that could pass under its watchful gaze were the Sent. The Sent were cunning, and followed their God whilst deceiving it as well, like a council of duplicitous advisors. They enacted it’s will (Destruction) within other worlds, nudging civilizations towards self destruction, yet within their home world they snuck about under their master’s nose like children sneaking around their parent. They used Entropy more like a tool than anything, while simultaneously being beholden to it and enacting its wills, consciously or subconsciously.

The Sent had minds, desires and egos. They used mortals as a food source, manipulating other sophonts into forming cults around them to do their bidding. They figuratively fattened up from their centuries of decadence, and evermore gluttonous, having their followers do their bidding. There are twelve members of the Sent council, each performing a specific purpose to serve Entropy and to operate as a collective. Their tenth man, Mediation, kept the council level and focused. As the others grew more voracious and impulsive, they deemed Mediation an obstacle, and brutalized it to the point where it’s physical form was unusable, and it’s mind fled within the eye of Ender that animated it. This only made the Sent more unstable, because the part of their collective brain that acted as their better judgement had been forcibly removed.

They are the primarily overarching antagonists of Abiogenesis.

[bellesomewherehere]

The lights turn on after a flicker, just for you to find a Sunghoon sitting on the sofa.

"Were you sitting in the darkness?" Your brows furrow as you took off your shoes and place them in the cabinet. "With your eyes open?"

"Hmm?" He looks up with pure confusion, "Sorry I was, um, spacing out." He holds out his arms after standing up to hug you.

"Of course you were," you say with a smirk, returning the hug. He feels quiet. Well, he is usually quiet, but he arrived home earlier than usual, and something is clearly wrong with the way he's still wearing his outside clothes.

"Babe? Are you alright?" You step back from the hug just to look up to his face.

"Hmm? Yeah, um, I just miss you." His smile doesn't feel forced, but you still feel weird. You decided to not ask if he doesn't want to say.

Obviously, he sees the way you were staring, "School after the shift was just a bit exhausting so I wanted to sit down first." He explains, "I ordered take out from that Italian restaurant you like, just wait till I take quick shower, okay babe?"

"Okey! I'll set up the stuff so we can eat right after." You pull him down just kiss him on the cheek. "Hey I'm all sweaty!"

"I don't care, I wanna kiss you." He chuckles, "whatever you like boss baby." "As long as it's baby and not dirty girl."

"I only said that once! And it IS dirty." You stare at him. "Fine, fine." He raises his arms to show defeat walking towards the bathroom.

You are setting the table after changing out your clothes when he walks toward the dining table with his hair still a bit wet.

"That was quick." You say while holing the boxes, "I haven't checked the food." He took over the box in your hand and gave you another box.

"This is yours."

"But how did you know what I want?" You realize and open the box he gave you and it was exactly what you wanted. You don't doubt the fact that he knows what you like, you just wonder how.

He just smiles. And you start eating. Mid eating, you stop to look at him. Sunghoon's still quiet, and he just paused between bites.

You stare at him for another minute, when he finally notices you and resumes eating. Then an assuring smile appears.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what's on my mind. Let's finish the meal first alright?"

You look at him suspiciously but finally agree to that. You don't wanna be pushy but hey, he's the one that stopped putting food in his mouth.

"So?" You nudge him while you sit side by side on the couch. He finally makes up his mind and turn to you. You also turn to face him completely as you feel that it is going to be an important topic.

"Thing is, the professor asked if I want to join this program, which might allow me to have a bigger chance when it comes to applying my master degree."

"I might have to spend more time in lab doing research and come home later than I'm already is." He looks right into your face, trying to see your reactions.

You feel sad, but you also feel happy for him, because all he ever wanted was to keep pursuing his studies and someday work as a licensed counseling psychologist, and you know that working as a researching assistant is inevitable and really helpful for his applying materials.

He already know all of those emotions, and you know that he does because he knows you too well, and he also acknowledges the fact that you will encourage him to do so.

And you do. You hug him for a while and then hold back to frown, "I'm gonna miss you so much all the time." You're not gonna hide the fact that you still feel upset, realizing you won't get to share meals that often in the evenings. Not just because it's too hard to hide that from him, but also you both know it's healthier to let the emotions out instead of pretending it's nothing.

Days are still gonna be fine. You still love each other so much, and he still knows your order on a Thursday night, and you still hold him during nights when he can't sleep well because of the stress.

[sookayheresthething]

Was there anything that you want/wanted to do a "hold up a second" for that you didn't do for any reason? (Ex. you felt like if you did class 1-A from MHA, the party would be too large, or it would be too hard to make it obvious as to what it is, if it was something like the British Museum, or even just too much homebrewing that you might not want to do for something like Cynthia's team in Pokemon Platinum)

I mean, in general, if I have an idea for a WHOAS, I can do it. you'd be surprised at how much D&D 5e's terminology and mechanical descriptions can be warped for the sake of a one-minute punchline.

like, make no mistake, for the vast majority of WHOAS episodes, the character concepts would either completely fall apart or just be unrecognizable 5 minutes into an actual session -- they'd need way more work to be actually playable versions of the characters. there's a different market for people actually, like, writing answers to the question "how would I make Mabel from Gravity Falls in D&D 5e?" -- my videos are just silly little goofs.

and as for population size -- not usually a problem, if something has ten million characters I'd probably do the two or three Main characters, y'know? if I did MHA I'd do Deku, Bakugo, and Uraraka. if I did Smash Bros I'd do, like, Mario and Link and Kirby and Pikachu or something. if I did Animal Crossing I'd do the player character, Isabelle, and maybe Tom Nook. y'know?

the only one I can think of off the top of my head that I have on my to-do-at-some-point list where I cannot for the LIFE of me figure out how to force into D&D 5e is Light Yagami. I've done Ed and Al, I've done the Straw Hats, I gotta do Light Yagami at some point. but like... hey, that's not a fantasy hero, that is a normal child with a death book.

the closest I've gotten is "warlock whose patron is a death god who has a magic item that's a book with Power Word Kill built in as a free action" or something, but then I run into the second-, third-, fourth-, and fifth-most-difficult part of writing WHOAS episodes*, which are

2. how the hell do I make it at all verisimilitudinous that MMS would not Get It at this point,

3. how the hell do I make it at all verisimilitudinous that MMS would even allow this,

4. how do I get a full 40 to 60 seconds out of this premise, and

5. how do I keep the audience guessing so they don't get it 3 seconds in (I often fail at this one).

so yeah. light yagami, I guess? wait, no, I thought of another one -- veggietales. I had the idea for a veggietales one at some point (oh my god, bob would be a cleric, larry would be a bard/paladin multiclass-- I could make a joke about archibald being a warforged-- there's a lot of potential there). but there just isn't a commonly-recognized plant-person race that I could make into vegetable people. closest is myconids** and idk if that works enough for me.

the other thing is popularity of source material -- I sometimes don't do one if I know that it's not, like, mainstream popular enough. I know that sounds cynical, but it's not supposed to be, I just think that if I did, like, I dunno, Kidd Radd, it wouldn't be fun for anyone but me, eh? I did TLT characters at one point, and I'm vaguely considering doing characters from Remedy's Control, but while those are a little outside the mainstream (the TLT episode definitely got a lot of people in the comments saying "dafuq is this", and that was even part of the punchline of the video), I tend to avoid going for the REALLY obscure*** fandoms I'm in with WHOAS.

oh, and it'd be easy to do and a guaranteed smash hit, but obviously I'm not doing fucking Harry Potter. that whole franchise can rot in mold hell and anyone still supporting it needs to seriously reevaluate their life choices.

--

*the first-most-difficult part is, of course, figuring out the details of the actual build and how the build is described, but you probably already figured that :)

**that's when I have a conid. y'know, my conid as opposed to your conid.

***although I do have a proven track record of thinking things are obscure when they aren't -- case in point, my old "manticores are cool!" video starts with me saying "here's a mythological creature you've probably never heard of before" about a manticore.

[sparkssystem]

Answering these for just me, Damian posting. 1. What's your fictional identity (hearttype, kintype, etc)? Fictive of Damian the Dark, a Sonic OC from a roleplay our old host was part of.

2. If you have multiple, do you have one you're closer to than the others, or is more important to your identity overall? N/A

3. How many fictional identities do you have? 1

4. What's your favourite part about being fictionfolk? That I can read my source material. Helps with memories and keeping the timeline of when things happened.

5. What's a positivie interaction that's happened as a result of your fictional identity? I don't really have one that I can think of, but I guess meeting the alternate versions of people I knew that have also ended up in this system is kind of cool.

6. Have you told any people in your offline life about your fictional identity and gotten a positive reaction? No, but also yes? Met our partner system online, we've met up irl a few times, they know who I am. Guess that counts in a way? They're very accepting, I mean, they're the one that made this ask game lol.

7. Have you told any people in your online life about your fictional identity and gotten a positive reaction? All of our friends know.

8. Is there anyone you've met as a result of your interactions in the community who's very important to you now? Our partner system.

9. What's your favourite thing about the fictionfolk community? Honestly I think it's really silly sometimes when you acknowledge people's identities. Sonic and Bakugo are talking about cooking recipes. Pikachu and Kratos are discussing their college majors. Goku and Gojo are playing scrabble and are getting mad that their made-up words aren't in the dictionary.

10. Tell us about a time you've experienced species/identity euphoria as a result of one of your fictional identities. So we have me as a character up on artfight, and someone read that I have "plant manipulation powers" and drew me with a rose. The picture is so sick, I'm using it as a Discord icon now. But like, roses are my thing, that's my plant of choice, and we didn't mention that in my profile, nor did we really mention much to be honest, we filled it out in like a minute. I just love that someone was able to capture my vibe with the rose and the pose and the feel of the image.

11. Do you experience any shifts (mental, phantom, dream, etc) of your fictional identity? Share a bit about those and how they feel! Well I'm me 24/7, so mental shifts aren't really a thing. Don't really get phantoms either. But we've had a few dreams about me, so there's that.

12. Do you have any canonmates (if applicable)? Plenty. Through people soulbonding people and those people soulbonding others, my system also has my 3 spouses, our 10 kids, some of our kids' friends, my 4 siblings, my dad, my dad's girlfriend, and way too many of my dad's friends. In total there's 47 people from my canon specifically in this system.

13. Do you have any sourcemates (if applicable)? Yeah, there's quite a few people from my source but not my canon in this system as well.

14. Do you wish to seek out canonmates/sourcemates? Why/why not? Not really a thing I can do in other systems, due to the nature of my source being a private roleplay. I've already soulbonded everybody I wanted back though.

15. Do you have a favourite piece of fanart/fanfic/etc that ties into your identity? Share it (with credit)! N/A

16. Do you have any art/fic/etc specifically made for you as a fictionfolk of your specific identity (made by yourself or someone else)? Share it! I've drawn myself a few times. My favourite is this one we got on artfight. Credit to https://www.deviantart.com/lamp-p0st

17. Does your fictional identity differ from source in any way/is it canon divergent? Explain a bit about that! So that gets a little bit weird. Source is ongoing. When I got into this system, there were no differences between my life and what this character went through, but since I got here, the story has taken my character and done some really messed up things to him. It's like I'm watching my own hands try to give me trauma I don't have. So I'm completely separated from the roleplay character now due to that, that's not me anymore, I'm just another version of him whose story has a clear divergence point.

18. Are there aspects of your fictional identity that you previously questioned, decided weren't a part of your identity, but you still look fondly upon? (Past 'types, etc). Nah.

19. Do you have any spiritual identities? Explain a bit about that! I'm a soulbond, so yeah.

20. Do you have any psychological identies? Explain a bit about that! Nope.

21. How old were you when you discovered/chose your first fictional identity? Soulbond, so not applicable.

22. Did you ever take a break from the community, but came back later? What made you come back? No, I've been trapped here. Help me /j

23. Have you ever considered fictionlinking? If you already have, what made you decide to do it? I haven't.

24. If you decided to 'link a fictional character, who would it be and why? Uhhhh.....hmm. Probably Dabi from My Hero Acadamia. His whole arc about being born for someone else's goals, being abandoned, rising up from the ashes to make a name for himself, it's all very relatable.

25. If you decided to 'link a fictional species, what would it be and why? Really not sure about this one, but I'm already part ghost, but my ghosts are a bit different than ghosts here, some depictions of ghosts in media are really cool, so one of those maybe?

26. Have you ever questioned being fictionhearted? If you already are, what started your questioning into that connection? I haven't.

27. Do you have any fictional hearthomes? What are your favourite things about them? I actually hate that I have hearthome feelings about this. There was a dimension of pitch black darkness that I was trapped in for almost 20 years. I hated being there, I hate everything about it. But I get such a feeling of homesickness when I think about it. I practically grew up there, I spent a good chunk of my childhood and all of my teen years there. I have a complicated relationship to it. No favourite things.

28. Have you ever questioned being a fictionbased archetrope? If you already are, what's your archetropal identity? Haven't questioned anything, but I might have a villain archetropal identity? Not sure.

29. Have you ever questioned being fictionkin? If you already are, what started your discovery of that connection? Haven't questioned, no.

30. Have you ever had a fictotype turn out to be a fictionflicker or vice versa? What was that like? Nope.

31. Do you have any fictionflickers? What are they, and how do they make you feel? Nope.

32. If you're a system, do you have any collective fictional identities? Fictional, no.

33. If you're a system, how many fictional identities do you have across all of your headmates? ...I am not counting. There's over 500 people in here. Just...going to estimate around 300 different fictional identities?

34. Do you have any soulbonds from a fictional source? Share a bit about that! Besides the roleplay, we have soulbonds from Sonic the Hedgehog, The Owl House, Steven Universe, My Hero Acadamia, Hazbin Hotel, Jujutsu Kaisen, The Magnus Archives, My Little Pony, Pokemon, Madoka Magica, SCP, Splatoon, Undertale, and Welcome to Night Vale.

35. Do you have any memories/noemata around your fictional identity? Share some if you'd like! I do have memories, I remember most of my life. The roleplay being a thing we have complete history of helps a lot.

36. If you do have memories/noemata, what's your favourite? Making me choose one moment of my entire life? Fine. When I was a young kid and I invited my friend into my secret room full of video games. We had a lot of fun playing games, then we kissed for the first time. That was special. Ended up marrying him when we got older.

37. Does your identity intersect with your gender in any way? Share a bit about that! Uuuuuggggghhhhh. I didn't used to be bigender, but then I had to possess a girl's body and then my brain didn't want to let go of that. Dying and ending up here didn't even fix it! Stupid ghost powers.

38. Does your identity intersect with your sexuality in any way? Share a bit about that! Nah.

39. Is there anything you'd have loved to hear back when you were first questioning your identity? N/A

40. Is there anything you'd like to share toward fictionfolk who may just be starting to look into the community? We don't bite, unless you bite first. We will protect you from the stupid people that say you can't be whatever you think you are.

41. Free space! Share anything about your identity/ies that you'd like to!

Nah, I've wrote enough already.

Fictionfolk Experiences Ask Game

Yeah, you. Fictionkin, fictive, fictionhearted, fictionlinker, fictionflicker--whatever else you may be in the tags. I wanna get some potentially positivity and experience sharing going because there's some Stuff that isn't great in the tags right now but ALSO I think fictionfolk as a whole (and not just identify-as fictionfolk but yes those too) deserve a nice little platform to share their experiences. So, use this ask game. Or just reblog and answer the questions. Or post the answers yourself. Be free.

1. What's your fictional identity (hearttype, kintype, etc)?

2. If you have multiple, do you have one you're closer to than the others, or is more important to your identity overall?

3. How many fictional identities do you have?

4. What's your favourite part about being fictionfolk?

5. What's a positivie interaction that's happened as a result of your fictional identity?

6. Have you told any people in your offline life about your fictional identity and gotten a positive reaction?

7. Have you told any people in your online life about your fictional identity and gotten a positive reaction?

8. Is there anyone you've met as a result of your interactions in the community who's very important to you now?

9. What's your favourite thing about the fictionfolk community?

10. Tell us about a time you've experienced species/identity euphoria as a result of one of your fictional identities.

11. Do you experience any shifts (mental, phantom, dream, etc) of your fictional identity? Share a bit about those and how they feel!

12. Do you have any canonmates (if applicable)?

13. Do you have any sourcemates (if applicable)?

14. Do you wish to seek out canonmates/sourcemates? Why/why not?

15. Do you have a favourite piece of fanart/fanfic/etc that ties into your identity? Share it (with credit)!

16. Do you have any art/fic/etc specifically made for you as a fictionfolk of your specific identity (made by yourself or someone else)? Share it!

17. Does your fictional identity differ from source in any way/is it canon divergent? Explain a bit about that!

18. Are there aspects of your fictional identity that you previously questioned, decided weren't a part of your identity, but you still look fondly upon? (Past 'types, etc).

19. Do you have any spiritual identities? Explain a bit about that!

20. Do you have any psychological identies? Explain a bit about that!

21. How old were you when you discovered/chose your first fictional identity?

22. Did you ever take a break from the community, but came back later? What made you come back?

23. Have you ever considered fictionlinking? If you already have, what made you decide to do it?

24. If you decided to 'link a fictional character, who would it be and why?

25. If you decided to 'link a fictional species, what would it be and why?

26. Have you ever questioned being fictionhearted? If you already are, what started your questioning into that connection?

27. Do you have any fictional hearthomes? What are your favourite things about them?

28. Have you ever questioned being a fictionbased archetrope? If you already are, what's your archetropal identity?

29. Have you ever questioned being fictionkin? If you already are, what started your discovery of that connection?

30. Have you ever had a fictotype turn out to be a fictionflicker or vice versa? What was that like?

31. Do you have any fictionflickers? What are they, and how do they make you feel?

32. If you're a system, do you have any collective fictional identities?

33. If you're a system, how many fictional identities do you have across all of your headmates?

34. Do you have any soulbonds from a fictional source? Share a bit about that!

35. Do you have any memories/noemata around your fictional identity? Share some if you'd like!

36. If you do have memories/noemata, what's your favourite?

37. Does your identity intersect with your gender in any way? Share a bit about that!

38. Does your identity intersect with your sexuality in any way? Share a bit about that!

39. Is there anything you'd have loved to hear back when you were first questioning your identity?

40. Is there anything you'd like to share toward fictionfolk who may just be starting to look into the community?

41. Free space! Share anything about your identity/ies that you'd like to!

[dividedsingularity]

Just a mini Faze post this time, but this one includes my first sketches for a Faze plushie! Which is something I really really want to make and have been constantly looking for materials for.

[ghostwoohoo]

guys milkshape is really scary. is anyone else scared. are there any 4t2 conversion tutorials that work for versions of blender 3.0+