#the dialogue box is off of google

[mermaidknight413]

OMG, imagine a video game!!! Finn would definitely give the opening tutorial or maybe just the loading screen advice… He’d be the sidekick/healer, of course.

[beneathsilverstars]

Google drive link here

I got tired of switching back and forth between the wonderful dialogue maker and my image editing program, so I made some files that would let me put ISAT dialogue boxes together myself! All of my measurements are approximated and based on the dialogue maker, so I could be off by a couple pixels. But it's close enough for me (<- I say through the gritted teeth of a perfectionist who is trying to be chill).

The left 20% of each portrait gets cut off when it's used in the dialogue maker, so I've uploaded a cropped version of every dialogue portrait in the game. And the dialogue maker shrinks the portraits by 80% as well, so there's also a cropped + shrunk version.

I've included a png of the dialogue box itself, as well as procreate and psd files of the dialogue box plus editable text. You'll need to download the ISAT font if you don't already have it; I got it here. Then all you need to do is align the portrait of your choice with the bottom left corner of the file and you're good to go!

Since I'd rather use crispy full-resolution portraits for my editing, I also included dialogue box files that are sized up to match the high rez cropped portraits. I kept the same border style, which means the border is sliightly skinnier than it should be, compared to the box and portraits. So it's personal preference whether you'd rather use canon border proportions or crispy portraits.

I also uploaded the original of each portrait since I had them downloaded anyway, but they're webp? So maybe saving to my ipad didn't actually give me the original file format. If anyone has them as pngs and wants to add them to the google drive folder, hmu and I'll send you an edit link. Also, the images should all be in the same order as they are on the wiki, but they do not have the original names. So if anyone wants to go through and rename them, again, hmu.

[e-dubbc11]

Hittin’ the Mat

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Gym Owner! Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ PLEASE! Or I’m telling on you) Oral F! Receiving, P in V protected sex, f!self pleasure, fingering, some swearing, jealous Brock, and fluff

Word Count: 5.4K-ish(sorry it’s a little longer than usual, but not sorry 😆)

Summary: You join a new boxing gym and your instructor is well…sexy AF and you have a massive crush on him. He surprises you by getting jealous watching you spar with another instructor.

A/N: So this fic was a lot of fun to write and was inspired by a short video/pin my darling friend @bartonsparrow25 sent me. She helped me some with ideas and a few pieces of dialogue. I love and appreciate you for helping me! For your viewing pleasure, I’ll leave the pin linked HERE. Trust me, you WANT to watch this.🥵🥵🥵 I know I’ve been MIA for awhile now and I’m really sorry but I think I’m almost over the hump with all the crap going on a work for the past couple of months but I think it’s almost over.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The unique variety of scents inside the boxing gym hit you as soon as you walked inside. The smell of aged, broken-in leather from the gloves and bags mixed with the clean scent of disinfectant added to the overall experience of being inside an area occupied mostly by people training to be fighters.

And it didn’t matter if they were training to be professionals or just wanted to learn the basics, the scent most prominent was hard work and dedication. It was evidence of the intensity left over from the sweat, tears, and sometimes even blood that became permanent stains on the gloves, mitts, and mats inside the fighter’s small little corner that was called Gloves Up Boxing Gym or to everyone that went there, it was simply called “Rumlow’s.”

You always tried to take care of yourself, eat well, and exercise but when the new year came, you told yourself to try something different, to try something new, and add something a little more challenging than what you were used to.

Boxing would definitely check off all of those boxes for you.

As soon as you stepped inside, you immediately felt out of your comfort zone. You were used to walking into a gym and knowing exactly what to do, where to go, and how hard to work to get the results you wanted. But here, you were lost and out of place.

Nervously walking up to the front desk, you tried to sound a lot more confident that you actually were. On the inside, you were petrified.

“Excuse me? I’m interested in taking some lessons.” You said with a slight hitch in your voice.

The man behind the counter, without looking up from his paperwork, responded with, “You waited three weeks after the new year to join a new gym? Why?”

Confidently, you replied, “Well, I wanted to give the quitters a chance to give up first, thought maybe I’d have better luck getting the best instructor here.”

When he handed you a form to fill out, he finally looked up. The scowl on his face disappeared and was replaced with a wide smile as he quickly got up from his chair and took off but not before calling back to you, “I’ll be back, gonna go get my boss, see what he thinks. He’s also the owner.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned around and started filling out the form he gave you. A few minutes later, he returned with another man with wild dark brown hair, warm tan skin, and golden brown eyes that reminded you of Tennessee whiskey. Your stomach dropped when you noticed how ruggedly handsome he was but it was when he spoke, that you could feel yourself clenching your thighs together.

“You ever box before, doll?” The other one asked, gazing at you from head to toe.

“Doll?!” You retorted.

One side of his mouth curled into a sinister smile and you were trying to decide whether or not to be offended by the pet name but the raspy tone to his voice when he said it, silently had you begging for him to say it again except slower and up against your ear.

“Would you prefer, ‘ma’am?’” He asked.

When the word “ma’am” escaped his lips, you immediately narrowed your eyes, pressed your lips together in a straight line and replied, “Ew, no! Doll is fine. And no sir, I’ve never boxed before.”

He folded his arms across his chest while keeping eye contact with you and you really hoped he wasn’t the gym’s best instructor because you’d never be able to concentrate on learning to box if he was teaching you.

“And how often do you wanna come in, Missssss?” He asked.

You replied, “Y/L/N, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’d like to come in at least four days a week but if you think I need more time, I’ll gladly come in for it, Misterrrrrrr?”

“Rumlow, Brock Rumlow.” Said Brock. “So you’re willing to come in more if I say so?”

He sounded surprised as he stroked the stubble on his chin.

You answered, “Of course. You’re the instructor, right?”

Brock turned to his employee, “Why aren’t all of our members this enthusiastic?”

You finished filling out your form and handed it to the guy behind the desk while Brock continued, “Alright, I’m gonna train you myself, nobody else. You got that?”

You nodded.

“Mornings good for you? The locker rooms have all the amenities you need to get ready for work in the morning, if you work.” Said Brock.

“Perfect.” You replied.

“Great. See you tomorrow, 7 am!” He yelled as he walked away from you, presumably back to his office.

Before leaving, you looked at the man behind the counter and asked sarcastically, “Is he always this pleasant?”

“You caught Rumlow on a good day. He’s usually mean and doesn’t personally offer to train new members himself. I got excited for a minute because most of the time he has one of us train new members, but you did say you wanted to learn from the best.” He said.

Your only hope was you’d never have to see Brock Rumlow on a bad day or would that just make you hotter for him than you were already.

**********

“What have you been doing? You look fantastic!” A coworker said to you one morning.

Shyly, you replied, “Oh! I’ve been taking boxing lessons at that gym down the street for the past six months. It’s such a great workout.”

You always hated being the center of attention and when she said how great you looked, her voice was raised so other people around you took notice also. It was slightly embarrassing but it also felt good to know that your hard work was paying off and it also didn’t hurt that your instructor was probably the sexiest man you had ever seen.

But at times it was difficult to concentrate on his instructions because you were too busy concentrating on him plus you had to get through your work day AFTER your lesson. You couldn’t wait to go home to be alone with your thoughts.

You could hear Brock’s assertive raspy voice inside your head at all times during the day, barking commands at you, reminding you about your stance, keeping your knees bent, and your hands up to guard your face.

“Your stance is the foundation for your movements and the basis for the way you deliver punches, y/n. You understand? Tuck that chin when you’re on the defensive! Got it?!”

If he had any idea the thoughts you had of him when you were alone, or the fact that you were soaked down there, not from the workout, after your lessons, or the sinful dreams you’ve had of him…he would probably stop giving you lessons or even kick you out of his gym altogether.

At the gym, Brock was all business but in your dreams, he was pure pleasure. On the nights where you couldn’t sleep, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him as your fingers absentmindedly traveled down your torso, pausing just above your core before diving beneath the waistband of your panties.

As your eyes fluttered closed, you imagined they were Brock’s thick fingers, teasing your entrance, parting your folds and inserting one finger then another. Moving them rhythmically, they hooked inside of you causing you to whimper as your orgasm began to build. You pictured him looking down at you with his amber colored eyes and with that sexy raspy voice of his whispering in your ear, “You gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Imagining him saying that was enough to send you over the edge, call out his name while drenching your fingers as your whole body trembled while coming down from your high. This was crazy, right? Having full blown fantasies about your boxing instructor to the point where it had become a nightly ritual before you could fall asleep. Even after a morning workout, a full day at work, and a nighttime routine…you still couldn’t fall asleep unless you fantasized about Brock Rumlow fucking you until you saw stars.

It was only a matter of time before you had a slip up and you could feel it every time he was near you, every time he said your name, and every time he stood behind you to show you a new move or how to keep your form.

You’d never be able to show your face in that gym again if Brock rejected you but this crush was affecting you in every aspect of your life, even your dreams.

You had to do something but you just didn’t know what that something was quite yet.

**********

The next day when you showed up for your workout, Brock wasn’t there. When your lessons started six months ago, he told you that he was the only one that was going to be teaching you, no one else.

But he wasn’t there so what were you supposed to do?

Cody was the first guy you met when you walked into Gloves Up Boxing Gym and he was working when you walked in this morning. After changing into your workout clothes, you walked around, looking for Brock. He wasn’t in his office, at the front desk or anywhere else inside the gym so you walked back to the front desk.

“Cody? Have you seen, Brock?” You asked.

Cody looked around with a confused look on his face.

“Actually, now that you mention it y/n…I haven’t seen him yet this morning. Did you try calling or texting him?” He asked.

You nodded.

“I did. I tried both but no answer. He told me he was the only one that was supposed to train me and give me workouts but he’s not here soooooooo.” You said, innocently batting your eyelashes at him.

Cody held up one finger and started shaking his head aggressively.

“Oh no…no, no, no y/n! Rumlow will KILL me! What he says, goes, around here! If he doesn’t kill me, I’ll definitely be fired!” He said in a frightened tone.

Brock always made a big deal about being on time and ready to work when you showed up for your workouts and you’ve kept up your end of the bargain by showing up every day, early and ready to give him 110%. And you were ready to work now and he wasn’t here to train you but you were going to get a workout whether he was here or not.

“He’s not here, Cody! Just tell him I made you do it!” You said with a sly smile.

“What if he shows up during your lesson?!!” He asked, nervously.

“Tell him I punched you until you agreed to give me a lesson. C’mon Cody! I showed up for my workout and I’m paying for one, let’s goooooo!” You yelled.

Cody dropped his shoulders in defeat and hung his head as he contemplated whether or not he wanted to risk getting fired for helping you get your workout in.

“Alright…go get your shit. I’ll meet you in back.” Said Cody with a slight eye roll.

“YES!! Thank you, Cody! Mmmmmuah!” You exclaimed as you leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Under his breath, you could hear Cody say, “I am so getting fired for this.”

**********

“Remember to keep your weight balanced, y/n…rotate those hips when you come in with that cross…that’s it, goooood! Show me that combo again….yessss, niiiice! Your pivots still need work.” Said Cody as he coached you.

You were almost done with your workout when you heard a loud angry voice coming from the top of the stairs.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, CODY?!!!!” Growled Brock, glaring and seething at the both of you as he descended from upstairs.

Apologetically, Cody replied, “You weren’t here, Rumlow! What was I supposed to do? She paid for a lesson and wanted to work out!”

“What did I tell ya, huh?! What did I tell EVERYBODY?!!” Brock yelled, pushing his fingers into Cody’s shoulder and then pointing at you with his other hand. “SHE is MY client! MINE!”

Your mouth had gone dry as you tried to speak.

“Brock! Don’t be mad at Cody! I had to beg—“ You had started to say.

Still pointing at you, Brock turned his heated glare toward you.

“YOU stay outta this, sweetheart!” He said curtly. “YOU didn’t follow the rules either!”

Everyone in the gym had stopped what they were doing and every single pair of eyes was staring at you, Brock and Cody.

Brock shouted at the top of his lungs but never took his eyes off of you.

“ALRIGHT!! EVERYBODY OUT! C’MON, I WANT EVERYONE OUT NOW!!! I’ll re-open tomorrow but get the fuck out, NOW!” Yelled Brock.

As you started walking toward the edge of the ring, Brock stopped you.

“Not you, doll. You, stay!” He commanded and started to remove his jacket. “You’re stayin’ too, tough guy.” He said, pointing at Cody. “Drop those mitts and go get your gloves! No helmets, NOW!”

“She begged me to, Rumlow. I apologize, it will NEVER happen again.” Said Cody.

“You’re damn right it will never happen again! And I said, go get your gloves!” Brock growled. “You wanted a lesson right, sweetheart? Well you’re gonna get one.”

Cody quickly wrapped his hands and got his gloves. He got back into the ring, touched gloves with Brock’s and the two of them began to spar.

Breathing heavily, Brock said, “Cody was right, doll. You do still need work on your pivots because you’re not changing direction as smoothly as you should, like THIS.”

He changed direction and as Cody came closer, Brock hit him square in the face with a quick jab, then another as you carefully watched Brock’s fluid motions and form. Then Brock hit him with a 1-1-2 combination, simple to him but for you, it was still about working on putting everything together, trying to remember to keep your hands up, elbows down and in, and keep your eyes focused on the targets.

You could see that Cody was a little scared to fight back; he knew Brock was toying with him, punishing him one punch at a time for touching what was “his” and Cody taking it and not fighting back as hard as he could because he didn’t want to make Brock angrier than he already was.

Brock was breathless with anger and with each piercing stare, he threw every possible punch combination at Cody which was hard to watch and you needed to put a stop to it.

“Brock! Stop this, please! This is my fault! I made Cody give me my lesson because you weren’t here to do it! ENOUGH!!” You begged.

As soon as those words escaped your lips, Brock hit Cody with an uppercut that landed him face up on the mat, leaving him stunned and probably seeing stars as he stared up at the bright lights above.

You jumped into Brock’s path, in between him and Cody.

“I said that’s enough, Rumlow!” You yelled, standing in between Brock charging toward Cody who was trying to get up as you pushed on Brock’s chest with your gloved hand.

“Outta my way, y/n!” He hissed.

You hissed back, “NO!”

After Cody sat up, you told him to leave.

“NOW, sweetheart!” Brock yelled.

Looking over your shoulder, you replied, “GO, Cody! And lock the door behind you! You’ll still have your job tomorrow, I promise.”

Hurriedly, Cody ripped his gloves off, dropped them onto the mat, wiped the blood from his nose and bolted toward the front door.

As soon as you heard the door close and lock, you let him have it. You hit Brock with the most powerful cross you had in you, even keeping your form, rotating your hips and body perfectly. It landed square on his jaw as your mouth twisted with the threat of another and you added a warning glare for good measure, showing him that you weren’t afraid of him and you could handle anything he threw at you just as he had instructed you to do.

He moved his jaw back and forth to shake it out and with a devilish smirk, he said, “Not bad, sweetheart. That was good form and it even hurt a little…just a little though.”

He winked at you and when he did, you instantly felt your panties get wet but you wanted to remain firm and reiterate to him that this was not Cody’s fault.

“I told you that this was my fault! He knew what your instructions were and I bothered him until he caved.” You said, calming your tone.

Brock inched closer to you, close enough that you were sharing the same air and replied, “You knew the rules too, y/n and deliberately broke them.”

“And YOU didn’t answer me when I called you or when I texted!! I showed up ready to work and you were MIA!” You snapped.

Brock lowered his voice. The low raspy growl escaping his lips made the wet spot on your panties even bigger.

“I got here late but ya think I wasn’t watching you? I have cameras everywhere, doll. I watched the two of you from my office; his hands on your hips, breathing over your shoulder, that little shit smiling at you when you weren’t lookin’. I saw it all, sweetheart…and I hated every second of it.” He said through gnashed teeth.

You swallowed hard as his words sent fresh shivers down your spine and a surge of concentrated desire gushed through your body, straight to your core.

The breath of room between your bodies became even smaller when you inched your face closer to his while you inhaled his intoxicating scent of citrus, bergamot, sandalwood and musk.

In barely more than a whisper, as heat flushed across your chest and your lips ghosting over his, you asked, “And why is that?”

Brock broke away from you; as he started to walk backwards toward the corner of the ring, he licked his lips and laughed off your question.

“Tell me, Brock! Tell me why you hated it so much.” You demanded. “Tell me or I’m gonna punch you again!”

“You’re bein’ a little bit of a brat, sweetheart.” He husked.

With a smug look on your face, you replied, “Whatever Rumlow, I do what I want!”

With a tight jaw, he growled into your ear, “Oh no baby, you do what I want.”

He started to take his gloves off, dropped them to the mat, and stalked over to you. All in one motion, he pulled you close as his lips collided with yours and just before he could slip his tongue into your mouth, you pulled away and targeted his chin with a swift uppercut.

“What the fuck was that for?!!” He demanded, holding his jaw.

Shyly, you replied, “Sorry, I was just making sure this was real and not one of my dreams.”

“Take those things off, now! I don’t need you hittin’ me again.” Said Brock with a slight smile.

You replied, “I can still hit you without the gloves, ya know.” Then stuck your tongue out at him.

He frantically helped you take your gloves off and unwrapped your hands. As soon as they were free, you grabbed a hold of his wild dark hair and pulled him in closer until his lips were on yours once again. Brock slipped his tongue between your lips and pressed it against your teeth, desperately wanting his to twist and knot with yours. Moaning into his mouth, Brock had you locked into a firm embrace and the heat from his body could be felt through his shirt.

He nipped at your jawline before kissing the sculpted hollow of your throat. His stubble gently tickled your neck as you whispered, “You hated seeing his hands on me, didn’t you?”

Brock continued to leave little love bites up and down your neck when you aggressively pulled back on his hair, “Didn’t you?!”

“Ow!” Exclaimed Brock, when you pulled on his hair. “Yes, sweetheart. I hated seeing another guy with his hands all over you, his fingers firmly digging into your hips, turning them, grazing your ass while standing behind you…all of it made me crazy.” He growled as his cheeks flared with anger and jealousy.

“I only want your hands on me, Rumlow.” You purred into his ear.

The flecks of gold in his eyes appeared to dance when he heard your words as he replied, “Oh yeah? Anything else?”

With a sly smile, Brock touched his tongue to his top teeth which gave you an idea.

“What that tongue do, baby?” You chuckled, then bit down gently on his earlobe.

You had let your guard down, let yourself relax in his embrace so it took you by surprise when he lightly pushed you backwards, grabbed your forearm, and kicked your lead leg out from under you, then eased you gently onto the mat.

“Oh…I don’t know that you’re ready for what my tongue can do to you, doll.” He replied as he fell to his knees, grabbed the sides of your workout leggings, forcefully yanked them off and finally settled in between your legs.

Clawing for the hem of his shirt, you desperately wanted to touch his bare skin and toned body. Brock was indeed a specimen underneath his clothes and there wasn’t an ounce of him that wasn’t pure muscle. The muscles in his arms were as hard as marble and tight like bow strings just like the rest of him.

As he held himself up above you, one hand roamed from your bare thigh, up and over the curve of your hip, then his thick calloused fingers gently tickled the sensitive skin of your stomach as they inched up and underneath your shirt.

“Yes I am. I need to know if you’re as good as you are in my dreams.” You said, breathlessly.

One side of his mouth curled up into a devilish smirk, his intense gaze raked over your body before focusing on your mouth and his lips crashed insistently against yours that left you panting hard when he pulled away.

The deep V in your t-shirt left your collarbone exposed and you barely got a chance to look into his bourbon colored eyes before he leaned down to kiss it and continued to kiss in between your breasts.

“You’ve been warned, baby.” He purred.

You could feel his warm breath through the fabric of your shirt before he yanked it over your head and tossed it to the side. Brock lightly nipped at the delicate skin of your stomach, his stubble grazing and tickling you as a light giggle escaped your lips.

Naked from the waist down, you impatiently waited for him to inch closer to your core as he kissed you everywhere, pausing just above your entrance before saying, “Last chance, doll. You sure? Tell ya what…how ‘bout I just warm you up a little first?”

Just as he uttered those words, he slipped one of his thick fingers inside, teasing you like crazy, moving in and out of you, smirking at you as he did so.

Cocky little shit.

Slowly, he eased in another finger and rolled his thumb over your clit. Brock loved hearing your soft whimpers and it turned him on to see your jaw drop open as he worked his skilled fingers inside of you.

You were almost embarrassed at how wet you were for him as he eagerly sucked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“You taste so sweet, princess, like candy. Look at you, waiting patiently for me. If I use my tongue, you gonna come for me like a good girl? Hmmm?” He asked so politely, still using his fingers to warm you up.

Brock seemed to enjoy watching your twist and squirm as your strangled moans filled the empty room.

“Y-yes! Brock please!” You begged.

Your cries were music to his ears as his arms wrapped firmly around your thighs and he buried his face between your legs, holding you in place to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

Your thighs quivered as his stubble scratched the inner part of your upper leg and you felt his tongue delve in between your folds while you immediately whimpered his name. The tiny flutters in your stomach became more intense as he made long, eager strokes with his proficient tongue and one of his hands pressed firmly against your stomach trying to keep you flush with the mat.

“Thaaaat’s it, sweetheart. Just let go for me. I want you to make me feel like I’m drowning. You can do that for me, I know you can.” He whispered.

The flutters turned into waves, growing larger, moving faster, while grinding down on his face as your orgasm approached. Your whole body shuddered as his name echoed through the gym and he lapped up every drop of your release, humming against your core, savoring your taste.

You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue as you let your fingers glide through his thick dark hair and he practically got into a fist fight with your sports bra to get you out of it which made you laugh a little.

He didn’t really give you the chance to come down from your high before he quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and the both of you were now completely naked in his boxing ring.

Brock reached into his pants to pull out a condom.

After slipping it on, he slowly inched his face toward yours with a sinister smile across his lips before leaning down to kiss you again, his tongue curling and twisting inside your mouth with the taste of you still on his lips.

“Who says you get to be on top?” You asked rhetorically.

You quickly rolled so he was underneath you, squeezing his sides between your thighs and pinning his arms above his head.

“Ha! I pinned you, Rumlow.” You said with a warm smile.

You spoke too soon.

Just as quickly as you rolled on top of him, he rolled again and pinned you to the mat.

“I don’t get pinned, sweetheart. I do the pinning.” He stated.

His commanding words caused goosebumps to dance across your skin as he nudged your knees apart with your arms still pinned above your head. Brock lined himself up, eased his thick length into you, stretching you out slowly as a sinful call of his name escaped your lips.

Brock moved slowly, allowing you to stretch all the way out before starting to move a little faster, his cock buried so deep inside of you, it was almost too much and unholy cries of passion fled from your mouth and into his ears, making him absolutely feral for you.

Your breathy moans mixed with his powerful grunts turned both of you on and it put a sinister smile on his face as he started to drive into you harder, his cock getting coated more and more by your drenched pussy with each forceful thrust.

His pace was fast and brutal but you loved every second of it. Every time he used his tongue and his teeth on your most sensitive areas, your moans and sinful noises told him how much you loved it. And you responded by pulling his hair and digging your fingernails into his skin, leaving light scratch marks up and down his tight back muscles that made him hiss with pleasure.

Brock loved to tease too. Every time he felt your walls flutter and clench around him, he’d pause and wait for you to look up at him with slight disappointment on your face. He was toying with you just like he was toying with Cody while they sparred.

Brock was cocky enough to know that Cody wasn’t going to beat him, just like he knew that there was zero doubt he was going to make you explode, only he was in control of when it was going to happen.

Tiny beads of sweat trickled down the side of your neck as his lips skirted across your collarbone. You ignored the pain in your back against the hard mat that you were pinned against by his strong hands and body. Brock’s fingertips were pressed so firmly against your skin, that it felt like he was leaving imprints on your veins and muscles.

“Let me come, Brock! Please!” You blurted out as the overstimulation took control of your voice and he continued to hold your orgasm hostage.

But every movement he made was bringing him closer to his own climax so he wasn’t going to be able to control it for much longer.

“That’s it. Come for me, sweetheart.” He growled in your ear as he reached down and began to rub your clit while he was just about to chase his own release.

With no one around to hear you and without hesitation, you came with a loud cry while Brock continued to plunge into you at a quickened pace. He didn’t stop until he finished and with your legs wrapped around his lower back, you pulled him deeper inside and he let out a loud gravelly cry of his own.

Coming down from your high, trying to catch your breath, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead, and with a wide smile said, “Maybe I should break your rules more often, if you’re gonna fuck me like that, Rumlow. I really don’t see the downside here.”

Brock let out a light chuckle.

“There you go bein’ a brat again.” He said, gently touching his lips to yours.

Softly moaning against his mouth, you replied, “I think you like it when I’m a brat. Juuuuuust a little bit.”

“Well, I know I like you whether you’re being a brat or not. I just don’t like anyone else’s hands on you.” Muttered Brock.

You inched your face closer to his.

“Yes, you made that perfectly clear. Is this like your ‘thing,’ Rumlow because if it is, I don’t–” You started to say before he captured your lips again.

After a kiss that made your toes curl, he replied as he positioned himself next to you, “You think I like losin’ money like I did today, doll? No, I don’t. But I do really like you though, enough to let you punch me in the face and tug on my hair.”

You rolled onto your side and let his warm gold eyes rake all over your naked body. He let his top teeth bite down onto his bottom lip as you replied, “You like me enough to let Cody keep his job?”

Pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger while giving you a hard eye roll, he said, “I guess he can keep his job, baby. But I don’t wanna see his hands on you again, you got that?!”

“Ok, Brock. I’ll make sure you won’t see it.” You replied with a wink.

“You really do like bein’ a brat, don’t ya? Ok, just for that…you’re gonna clean up this mess you made all over my mat. Cody ain’t here to do it so you can do it.” He said, pointing his finger at you.

You shook your head aggressively.

“Nope! YOU can do that, Mr. Rumlow. I didn’t do all of this, you helped too!” You replied.

Brock sat up and started to put his t-shirt back on.

“And what makes you think I’m gonna clean up YOUR mess, doll?” He asked.

As you slipped your leggings and the rest of your clothes back on, you leaned in, kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “Because after you’re finished with that…I’ll show you what MY tongue can do to YOU. I’ll be in the shower!”

Your words left Brock stunned as you turned to walk out of the ring. With your back facing him, you started to walk toward the locker room with the sound of quick moving feet hot on your heels.

You got a pretty decent workout today after all.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan @staley83 @bartonsparrow25

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @randomlittleimp

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

[americasass81]

Where The Heart Leads

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Mostly Fluff, Use of Pet Name, Very Brief Bomb Mention, Very Brief Mention of Anxiety, Feelings of Insecurity, Very Minor Implied Sex. Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason. Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Author’s Note 1:- Some time in the making, this companion piece to my dark/soft CEO Steve Rogers fic Deck The Balls , a special shoutout has to go to @navybrat817 , @stargazingfangirl18 (and of course @drabblewithfrannybarnes ) for inspiring this Hoeliday creation.  Thank you so much lovelies.

Challenge parameters:- CEO Johnny Storm (Character), “Sweetheart, that (article of clothing) just got you added to the naughty list.” (Dialogue), Cuddling for warmth (scenario)

Author’s Note 2:- Although a reader insert in their original tale, for the purposes of this fic, Steve’s gal is given a name here.

Author’s Note 3:- As always, all images have been found through google search.

Synopsis:- It’s the start of the Holiday Season and a mysterious box may just hold the key to your dreams … if you're only brave enough to seize the opportunity.

Pairings:- soft!CEO Johnny Storm x Reader.

Total Word Count:- 5,568

Turning off your computer, leaving your desk and checking in on Francine before you made your way down to the conference room, your mind was still struggling with what you were doing and how you were dressed.  And your friend's reaction didn't help matters.  Working alongside her now these past five years as Johnny Storm's personal assistant, it was safe to say you had ended up with the better boss.  Well at least the more easy going one anyway.  For while Steve Rogers was by the book in office interactions, Johnny by comparison was easy to talk to, quick with a joke and seemed well aware of the type of appeal he had with the ladies.  Not that he ever mixed things up at the office as far as you knew.  Neither of the guys did.

But Steve, while still easy on the eyes, was definitely far more reserved and expected excellence from every member of staff that considered this their place of employment.  Not that Francine ever seemed to mind and god knows she never complained.  Working every bit as late, if not later, than her own boss Steve Rogers, you just hoped she would take some time to enjoy the Christmas party she had worked so tirelessly to make perfect.  After all, if anyone in the company deserved to let loose and enjoy themselves it was her.  So why then did it feel like that particular task had been passed on to you?  Not that you had time to ask her however as a more pressing question took precedence at this time having been in the back of your mind all day.

--- BEGIN FLASHBACK ---

Stepping off the elevator together that morning as the janitorial staff were just unplugging the last of their equipment, you and Francine continued to chat through the common appointments for the day before the large boxes waiting on your desks brought a stop to your conversation and a puzzled look settled on both of your faces ... for these unexpected deliveries did not belong here.  Looking back and forth now between each other and the mysterious items before then casting your gazes towards the janitorial staff, a quick step out of her office door by Francine told you that she was taking charge of the situation like always.  Something you were only too grateful for as you watched her go.

Striding towards Larry, the head janitor, with a purpose you had seen her display countless times around the office when things weren't running the way they should, a quick conversation later and she was back at your office door now apparently no wiser than when she had left her own.  "Larry doesn't know what they contain or who dropped them off," she explained, glancing now between you and the beautifully wrapped box taking up a nice portion of your desk space, "any ideas what we should do about them?" she then inquired and you had to admit that this was not the reaction you had expected.  After all, Francine had three more years experience of working here over you, which meant she at least should have had some idea how best to handle this.

Thankfully for you however it seemed this question had been rhetorical as she ignored your vacant stare now and hurried back into action.

Striding across the hall towards her own office once more whilst simultaneously removing her jacket, she quickly dropped both it and her bag neatly just outside the door and then carefully moved beside her desk in a manner that still left her with a clear pathway out again should her next actions not go favorably.

Taking mental notes meanwhile on every action she took now from your own office doorway, you moved out into the hallway however when she beckoned you forwards but stopped just as swiftly when she gestured for you to do so.  It seemed she wanted you in the hallway ready to make a run for it should the need arise.  Which didn't bring you any comfort whatsoever.  But her added gesture for you to remain quiet meant this was a concern you were not permitted to voice it seemed.  Continuing to stare in silence now as Francine then slowly, but carefully, brought her ear down to the package, your heart meanwhile thundered in your chest as the seconds ticked by and you didn't know how much more uncertainty you could handle until flesh met paper and finally Francine's thumb appeared upright before your frightened eyes to indicate that everything was all right.

Or at least as all right as it could be given what she had suspected.  No way were you prepared it seemed to deal with a bomb threat now or at any time in the future.  But thankfully you wouldn't have to apparently.  Breathing a sigh of relief now while picking up her jacket and bag and joining her in her office as both of you still looked suspiciously at the exquisite package, Francine next examined it for any signs of identification before asking you to do the same.

Returning to your own office now and noticing no card, writing or anything of any informative value, both of you now took a quick glance at the office clock before Francine decided that enough time had been wasted on this useless endeavor.  So picking up the phone and ringing down to the main floor, a hurried yet precise conversation with Melissa at reception told her that these two packages had not been professionally delivered, had not gone through reception as was the required protocol and were not even mentioned in the catalog of deliveries for any day this week.

Which in your mind left only one possible explanation ... these had to have somehow been arranged by your bosses.  But whether Francine agreed with that assessment remained to be seen.

Placing the phone back down and taking one last withering look at the clock again, Francine next took hold of either end of the cover and carefully lifting it off, pulled back the tissue inside to reveal a glimpse of what looked to be the most beautiful dress she had ever seen before.  Suspecting now that this was probably meant to be worn to the Christmas party taking place beneath her feet this very night, she skimmed her fingers lightly over the shimmering material before placing the cover back on, moving the package to the nearest available out of the way surface and turning her attention back to you.  "Well go on, see what someone gifted you," she said with a smile before watching you walk back to your office while she instead went about starting off her working day.

Doing now as she had done and also revealing a dress far more beautiful and expensive than anything you had ever imagined setting eyes on, let alone wearing, the ding of the main elevator told you your conversation with Francine regarding the possible source of these garments and what to do with them would now have to wait until a quieter time presented you with the opportunity.  As it was, working for Steve Rogers and Johnny Storm, that quieter time would apparently be when the office had shut down for the holiday season and you were on your way to the party in the very same dress that was now meant to be part of that postponed conversation.  And what a conversation that ended up being.

--- END FLASHBACK ---

Looking up from her desk and the mountain of work she had laid out before her as you cleared your throat to get her attention, her eyes practically popping out of their sockets as you gave her a little twirl was nothing compared to the greeting she gave you when you finally stopped moving.  "Well don't you look sexy this festive season.  I hope your secret admirer gets to appreciate you in that getup," she teased with a smile as you made your way further into her office before taking a seat in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk.

Smiling back at her now while your eyes flicked between her workload, her business attire and her own boxed up dress still sitting off to the side where she had left it that morning, you quickly decided now was as good a time as any to tell her your theory on the dresses while making sure that a party appearance had been marked on her calendar.  Her response however was not what you expected.

Confirming that such an appearance was indeed on the cards once she finished up the waiting emails and signed her name to the last few documents in the top folder, your delight took a pummeling however when she pointed out the flaws in your theory regarding the dresses.  For one it seemed that while she trusted Rogers and Storm to handle meetings and run an extremely successful company, that trust did not extend to them knowing how to order two high end ladies dresses and get them delivered to their place of employment without anyone around them ever finding out.  Secondly, which was a point you totally had to agree on, she couldn't see how they could have gotten both of your measurements correct enough for the dresses in question to fit as well as yours obviously did.

No, she may not have known who sent them but she was fairly certain that this was one task way outside the expertise, not to mention the comfort zone, of the two men whose corporate asses both of you covered on a daily basis.  And now that you thought about it from the point of view of all you actually did for Johnny, you kind of had to agree.  Sort of.  But who then did that leave?  However, it was on this question you would have to leave things when Francine kindly pointed out that sitting in her office pondering the who, how and why would solve nothing when the culprit was most likely waiting among the many bodies gathered downstairs at this very moment waiting for your entrance.  An entrance she herself would make when the last i had been dotted and the final T crossed.

Nodding at her now in total agreement as you watched her return to her work as a means of ending the conversation, you wished her a Merry Christmas, rose from the chair and felt a bit better heading off towards the party now with her uttered reassurance that you would see her there later.  If only that feeling could have made the full trip with you however.  Watching the numbers blink down from the corporate offices to the conference floor, your hands smoothing out the fabric and no one to talk to brought out all your own insecurities however as your mind asked itself what exactly might be expected from you if indeed the person who purchased the dress was present to witness you wearing it.  Never mind what everyone else might think.

Stepping out of the elevator now onto the conference floor, the imposter syndrome was louder here than the music seeping out through the crystal clear doors after the trip down however and it seemed to be winning out over the holiday spirit evident in every decoration and partygoer dotted throughout the room ahead..

Watching the elevator close behind you while placing your hand on the door before you, you quickly took a moment to step off to the side and rest your shoulder against the nearest wall as your nerve faltered and the truth of who you were finally won out ... for you truly didn't belong here.  Oh sure, as a personal assistant you had proven yourself more than capable of answering phones, arranging meetings and replying to the countless emails that filled Johnny Storm's inbox on a daily basis.  But everything else?  Dealing with clients.  Arranging events like the one Francine had pulled off this very night on the other side of the wall.  Hell, even handling the situation with the dresses as she had done so efficiently that morning.  No, these were things you were certain you would never get the hang of no matter how many years you worked here.

So what then were you doing standing here in this expensive dress about to enter a party you had no earthly business even attending?  You should simply head back into the elevator, push the button for the parking level and drive yourself home for the quiet, relaxing holiday that always welcomed you like an old friend.  Now if only fate would allow you that opportunity.  As it was it seemed it, or more accurately he, had a different plan in mind for you as a strong body made its presence known against your back just as two suit-clad arms encircled your waist and temporarily short circuited your brain from its fight or flight response.  Which ended up being a good thing given where you were and who those very same arms happened to belong to.

Resting his chin against your shoulder now while holding you still as your brain tried to figure out what best to do in this situation, the voice whispering in your ear suddenly cleared enough of the fog surrounding this development to make you realize you knew this person ... or at least you thought you did.  "Sweetheart, that dress just got you added to the naughty list.  Let's see if I can join you there before this night is over," he whispered before releasing you and moving forward to stand beside your startled form.  "Shall we?" he then continued with a smile while reaching out his hand for you to take before escorting you into the heart of the party.  Which totally blew your startled mind.

Standing beside him arm in arm now as both of you walked through the conference room doors, the music should have settled your nerves and pulled you into the festive season, but your mind was still reeling from the way things were currently playing out.  For it seemed your theory had been one hundred percent correct.

Smiling politely now and shaking hands with anyone that offered you theirs, you and Johnny made a quick, yet graceful, path through the room as he expertly greeted those clients whose sole reason for being here it seemed was to grab some attention from one, if not both, of the head men responsible for yet another successful financial year.  Talking, laughing and spending as much time as he deemed necessary with each client, while also somehow making sure that you were never treated as window dressing, eventually snagging two drinks off the tray of a passing waiter and steering both of you to a quiet corner, your body landing on the soft sofa was a welcome relief beneath you ... even if it did now allow time for the reality of what had just happened to finally hit you.

"Mr. Storm, what the hell was all that?" you asked in a murmured rush before he handed you a glass of champagne which you swiftly emptied in one go if for no other reason than to settle your nerves and stop the babbling you knew was just beginning.  Thankfully however he at least seemed to be far better at handling the situation than you.  As was evident by his response.

Taking a generous, yet controlled, sip of his own drink now while letting his eyes travel the length of your body, it seemed he was happy with his assessment that you weren't about to pass out on him and so began his quick explanation.  Reminding you that the main function of these events was to make the clients feel important enough to mix socially with himself and Steve while also rewarding the staff for the excellent work they did throughout the year, his obligations had been satisfactorily fulfilled and it was now time for him to enjoy himself.  Which was where he hoped you would come in, he continued and this time it was your turn to beckon forward the nearest waitress as another round of champagne was definitely needed to drown out the doubts and questions bubbling up within you once more.  Not that he was having any of it apparently.

Shooing the waitress away and instead allowing you an adequate sip of the liquid courage still contained within his own sparking crystal glass, the music shifting to a slow haunting melody seemed to give him a more appropriate means of distracting you once more.  One you however were not all that excited about.  Taking the glass back from your lips and dabbing a napkin at the small drop of liquid that lingered behind, his hand then reaching for yours again as he now stood up and pulled you gently to your feet caught you off guard just enough to make you believe he was once more leading you towards a client he had probably missed on his initial entrance.  For his actual plan was far worse than you ever could have imagined as his intentions became clearer.

Leading you now to the middle of the floor however as dancing couples parted as they might for important dignitaries, Johnny positioning your body lightly before him while he then placed his hand on the small of your back made your whole world spin with the realization of what he had in mind.  He actually expected you to dance with him it seemed, which was a totally alien concept to you.  After all you had successfully avoided public shamings like this your whole life ... at least until now.  Tuning in on your anxiety however while whispering gently to follow his lead, he next took your hands, placed them respectfully on his own body and closed the distance between both of you before beginning a waltz he hoped would ease your tension and bring out your fun side ... but it seemed it wasn't to be.

Moving with him stiffly as your long forgotten childhood dance lessons tried to carry you along, your mind couldn't steal itself away from the countless sets of eyes following your movements and zeroing in on each and every mistake you invariably made however.  Which in turn only made you more tense.  A fact you were grateful that Johnny at least picked up on when the tune finally ended and he walked you back to the sofa and the little slice of privacy it provided.  Not that it would be enough for you it seemed.

Sitting back down on it now and snatching up his glass to polish off the rest of his now warm and flat champagne before he could even object about what a bad idea that actually was, you were just about to call out for another glass as you had tried to earlier when Johnny instead took charge of the situation once more.  Reaching out and talking your hand again, he pulled you from the sofa once more while silencing any objections you might have with a look that clearly told you to just follow his lead.  Glancing around the room then to make sure your presence was not being observed, he now walked both of you out of the nearest door and led you hand in hand to the first elevator to open its doors.  It seemed he was changing the venue which should have brought you some measure of relief, but that apparently would have been a Christmas miracle.

Stepping inside now and watching anxiously as the doors closed, Johnny pressed the button to take both of you back to the offices, past Francine's now empty one and straight through the heavy wooden doors that opened directly into the C.E.O.s private section.  But your journey didn't stop there it seemed.  Wondering to yourself now if Francine was finally downstairs enjoying the fruits of her labor instead of focusing on the gutted state of her once inhabited office, your mind became further distracted now however as Johnny inserted a key in the panel before you, waited for the doors of these new elevators to open and ushering you inside now placed his thumb over the P1 button and pressed it.

Standing beside you then while glancing sideways at you to make sure your anxiety had not rendered you helpless, experience reminded you that this was a trip you had never taken before and as the doors eventually opened on a floor you had never seen in your life, your suspicion was proven true and any anxiety you had felt downstairs had now skyrocketed upwards to world ending levels.  For this was most definitely a private floor and one you were fairly certain you wanted nothing to do with whatsoever.  But was he the type of man to give you a choice?

Turning to face you now as your eyes focused solely on the door opposite, Johnny broke the silence and your staring when he began to speak.  "Well here we are, my private apartment.  I thought, given how ... uncomfortable you seemed with all the attention downstairs that maybe you'd feel more relaxed here," he explained before continuing, "if you want to leave however, I can totally arrange that," he added, placing his hand back on the elevator button for closing the doors now, "but I'm hoping you'll stay," he finished and you had to admit the look he gave you now seriously made you wonder.

Reminiscent of a kid wishing and waiting for something he'd always wanted, could you really deny him then?  Looking frantically now between the apartment door, your dress and your boss, whom it seemed owned both, your thoughts drifted back once more to your earlier question of what payment would be expected for the garment you now wore.  Well, it seemed that question may finally have been given an answer.

But where then did that leave you?  Were you really going to risk your job, one you actually loved, to be another notch on Johnny Storm's bedpost?  Oh sure, you may have only worked for him these past five years and you would definitely be the first to admit you didn't know every finer detail about his life, likes or dislikes.  But your ears still worked.  You had, like everyone else you imagined, heard the rumors running rampant throughout the office gossip pools about the scores of broken hearts Johnny Storm and Steve Rogers had left scattered all over the New York area.  But was it actually true and if so, did you really want your name added to that list as you searched through the unemployment ads after this whole thing inevitably came crashing down?

Calling your name now to bring you out of your thoughts and get your attention back on him, a reassuring glance at his fingers still hovering where he had left them and it seemed however that your mind was made up.

Allowing you to enter the apartment first as the door slid into the wall to facilitate your passage, the sight that greeted you here however was not quite what you had pictured.  Not that you had ever pictured what Johnny Storm's corporate apartment actually looked like.  In fact, before tonight, you never even imagined using the words corporate apartment for either of these guys.  The men came to work, took meetings and gave out directives.  But then, whenever work finally cut them loose and afforded them a modicum of rest, you assumed they returned home or to hotel suites and did whatever it was big, successful C.E.O.s did until the corporate world called out to them all over again the next morning.

At least that's what you always thought.  They certainly didn't live in a place like this.  For looking around this open plan space now told you that this was no booty call, bachelor pad.  Not that you knew what those even looked like, mind you.  But this place certainly had a touch of love about it.

For starters, the white and blue Christmas decorations tastefully placed throughout the kitchen and living area showed signs of use upon closer inspection and when Johnny appeared with two mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows, inside Santa and a snowman no less, you knew these mugs at least were not picked up at some fancy corporate office decorating store.  These mugs had been picked out with a love of the season in mind, used for the time period it covered and carefully stored away afterwards to be pulled out again twelve months later.  They were a personal item.  One of many you now noticed prominently placed around the apartment as you took the snowman mug from Johnny and let your eyes wander while the delicious liquid calmed you in a way the champagne downstairs couldn't seem to do.

Or maybe it was the apartment and its homey feeling that was phishing away your anxiety.  For your eyes could confirm the place was definitely lived in.

Moving away from the kitchen area now and the few dirty food items waiting in the sink, a sweater thrown on the arm of the sofa, logs piled up by the side of the fireplace that had just previously been used if the ashes in the grate were any indication, a tie hanging on the end of the stairs banister leading up to what you assumed was the sleeping area, this place, wrapped in all the trimmings of the holiday season definitely felt more like your scene than the party you had left a few floors below you.

And perhaps that's what Johnny had picked up on as he now joined you by the Christmas tree that seemed to hold so many items near and dear to his heart.  "So tell me, is this more your comfort zone?" he inquired gently as his unoccupied hand came up to rest against your waist once more and you found yourself slipping back against his larger frame as you had downstairs when he first appeared behind you.

"Yes, it's beautiful," you confirmed, "but why bring me here?" you asked, even though you knew he had told you why when the elevator doors had opened on this floor.  But maybe you needed to hear him say where his mind was going.  At least that had been the plan until he actually complied with your request and started talking.  Then the bubble burst.  Taking your hand yet again and walking you over to the sofa which now seemed to be a prerequisite in your dealings with him, no amount of hot chocolate, champagne or any other alcoholic beverage on the planet it seemed would be enough to shore up your courage for the answer you received however.  For it seemed he wanted you.

Not as a one night stand.  Not as some trophy wife he paraded around at corporate functions.  Not even as a broodmare to perpetuate his legacy into future generations.  No, the reality it seemed was far, far worse.  He wanted, as he explained, to love you, marry you and show you the world.  He wanted you to remain on as his assistant if you so wished, but he also dreamed of falling asleep beside you every night, waking up in your arms each morning and sitting beside you old and gray on a balcony or porch somewhere as the twilight of your lives settled in and all the years of love and laughter both of you had shared together had proved to him that you indeed were the one.  The only soul his own called out to.

Stunned into silence now by this naked and soul displaying confession, your eyes searched his frantically for some sign of lies or deception to trick you into giving him something you were not prepared to bargain away through fancy words and expensive deeds, but what you saw shocked you worse than the cold tendrils of death's touch.  He was telling you the truth.  For his love was as evident here in this moment as his sincerity had been back in the elevator when he promised to let you leave if you so wished.  So what the hell were you supposed to do now?

A one night stand and the possible fallout afterwards might actually have been more preferable now to the path that lay before you here.  A roll in the sheets and the stigma that followed, that you could rebound and rebuild from.  Move to a different company, a different state.  Hell, there was nothing to stop you from simply getting on a plane and starting over in a different country if that's what was left for you.  But this?  What Johnny had just described?  That was a life.  A life built on love, memories and two hearts becoming one.  One did not just rebuild and recover from the loss of something like that and you honestly didn't think you were brave enough to find out if you could.  But what option then did that leave you?  Were you brave enough either to walk away from even the possibility of such a thing?

Sensing now that perhaps your mind was somehow winning out over your heart and therefore talking you out of something he desperately longed for, Johnny took your hand in his once more and waited now for your attention to slip fully back to him before he spoke again.  "Please, I've told you what I'm thinking and honestly my feelings for you form the basis of all that.  I love your smile, your laugh.  I love how kind and compassionate you are to everyone you work with, without being a doormat.  Hell, I even love how you handle the clients, even the smarmy ones, while still retaining your dignity and decorum," he stated and though you wanted to remind him that Francine for example also possessed those same qualities, something told you he wasn't finished, so you held your tongue and allowed him to continue.

"But most of all, I love how you have never let the gossip of the office dictate your opinion of me, as I see so many others have," he finished and in that moment you caught a glimpse of what you thought was genuine hurt flit across his features and it actually saddened you.  For you alone had seen a different side of him, you had merely been too busy work wise to give it any sort of romantic value.

You had been there after all for the toy drives he had organized and funded from his own personal finances with the proviso that no public trace ever lead back to him.  You had helped sort out paid leave for staff members above and beyond that which was covered in their employment contracts on his authorization whenever he deemed it wholly necessary.  Hell, you had even been part of a meeting with Francine and Steve Rogers three months back when the two C.E.O.s had pooled their resources and called in a handful of favors to ensure that one of their longtime employees would not lose their home due to a health crisis that threatened to wipe them out financially as well as medically.

All this again with the stipulation that no one ever found out.  A good deed was its own reward seemed to be his motto and now it appeared it was more than that.  It was a way of life for him.  A kindness embedded deep in every fiber of his being and one, if you were truly honest with yourself, endeared him to you on a human level.  So why then couldn't you tell him this?  Was it really a fear of things falling apart?  Or worse yet, was it the fear that the more time he spent with you outside of work, the more he would realize you were never truly worthy of his love to begin with?  You didn't get to figure this answer out however when Johnny broke your thought pattern once more, as seemed to be his super power, and asked you now to simply tell him what your heart felt.  And that it seemed did the trick and broke the dam wide open on all that you had ignored these past five years.

For you did indeed love him also.  You loved his looks, you loved his business skills and sense of humor, but as he had just described of you, you loved the heart he tried so hard to hide away from the world and as these exact words tumbled from your lips, you knew now which path your future lay on when hours later as your naked bodies lay cuddling for warmth in Johnny's bed, the life he spoke of earlier called both of you now into its waiting embrace.  And given all that you knew about him and what your body had just experienced beneath his sheets, walking away from him had stopped being an option when your orgasmic haze had died away and the love you indeed felt for each other was all that remained to carry you onwards.  For you couldn't live without him and, where this thought had once terrified you, it now brought you a future you reached out for and grabbed hold of with a newfound certainty that everything was finally right with your world.

[vaadazen-codes]

2 BIG Tips for formatting your VN script

Are you a Visual Novel writer? Or at least are you writing a visual novel? Don't know how to format it? good news, I'm here to give you some tips for formatting your script to make it 10x easier on the programmer to implement into RenPy!

All of these tips apply to Google Docs, since that's the most commonly used script writing platform for VNs, especially given the collaboration that goes on for them and for game jams!

Page Set Up

These tips are the most important of this whole doc, because it prevents everyong (writer or programmer) from having to find and replace later!

Turn off Smart Quotes

Turn off replacements for ... and -

To do that, go to your tool bar at the top and go to tools > preferences

see it down there at the bottom?

then just uncheck tthe smart quotes box.

Here's an example of what mine looks like to make things easier, though the others don't matter as much.

To turn off substitutions, you have two options.

Manually uncheck the boxes

Turn it off altogether.

I personally chose to turn it off all together, most of what it is is just things like 1/2 becoming a visual fraction, or < - - turning into <-.

If you chose to manually uncheck them, there's only really two that'll need to be checked off!

The one for ... and the one for -- or --- Why do you need to do this? Well unfortunately, renpy and most code editors don't recognize them as characters, and it can cause some issues with the dialogue text being displayed.

Choice Dialogue

This one isn't a huge deal, but after working on quite a few jam projects and personal VN projects, I've found a way that seems to work best for allowing your programmer to efficiently implement them! (Or yourself if you write and code for your projects like I do) use tables in google docs! Here are some examples from some of my projects:

It's pretty c lear what the options are for each menu choice this way, since they're color coded and have some sort of indicator before them to seperate them.

This also makes it easier to know where the choice menu dialogue ends.

The colored parts are the menu label itself, so what shows up on the screen

and then the rest is the dialogue branch for that choice!

between these two, the biggest majority of your programmers job will now be making sure things don't break, instead of spending hours finding and replacing certain things, or having to pause to wait for an answer if your team is in all sorts of time zones!

[maggplays]

Bio? Something like that.

How did I start modding? Literally no one has asked this, but here's my story, don't worry it's not long... I guess that depends on what your definition of “long” is, haha! Hang on, here we go.

On a random day in January, 2024, a few days before my birthday, I might add... I woke up to stars in my right eye. A few days later, I was told I had a very rare injury and it would never heal. Those are not words an artist/gamer wants to hear! Long story short, I am now legally blind in my right eye. If you think, oh that's not a huge deal, you can still see. Humor me, get a cheap pirate eyepatch, put that on, then pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not as easy as you thought, right? Depth perception. It’s a thing. Anyway, on with the story. Suffice it to say, I was depressed. Majorly. Then, through some random conversation somewhere, I found Stardew Valley.

Perfect! 2D animation, cute pixel art, story that's not sugar-coated anime, I love it! Got to year 3, TBH I've never played past year 3 because ADHD, and realized the dialogue was quite lacking. Then I discovered mods. What the-, it's a freakin' goldmine! Downloaded a lot of things, mostly dialogue, and tossed half of them. While playing through a Sebastian run, I saw it. Oh. My. God. It's a coding error glaring at me in my dialogue box. This is NOT acceptable. I tried to ignore it, but then it happened again. Okay, time for some investigation. I opened the folder and found... json files. Interesting, I wasn't entirely clueless since I do know HTML code from back when the internet was a baby, Facebook had no ads, and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Okay, okay, the internet was more like a spoiled toddler. Yes, I'm old. Shut up. But I digress. It didn't take long to discover the misplaced punctuation and go on my merry reality-avoiding way. Until I got bored again.

I looked for more Seb mods, but there were like seven. Three were yandere, not my jam, and only 2 were updated for 1.6 and were dialogue-only. Solution? Make my own mod for myself. I spent six weeks downloading mods, learning code, Googling to very little effect, writing dialogue, learning how to make an event, discovering I knew nothing, and on and on. The perfect distraction from the whole eye thing. I finished a decent draft, loaded it up, and praise Yoba, it worked! And on we play. At some point, I saw a comment complaining about the lack of Sebastian dialogue mods. Huh, yep, they're right. Too bad. Oh. Well, I guess I could load this thing I made, it's really just my own internal story monologue while playing the game, I'm NOT a writer, and most people probably won't get it. But I did spend a lot of time on this, and maybe someone out there will like it. Heck, no skin off my nose since it's free. So I took a deep breath, made peace with my inner demons, and threw it out into the void of Nexus, expecting it to be swallowed up and ignored. That... didn't happen.

In the first few hours, several people downloaded it. Huh, Nexus must have a decent search algorithm. That was literally all I thought about it. The next day, 300 downloads. And comments! Mostly positive with the exception of one wild demand I subsequently ignored. At one week, it had 3,000 unique downloads. I was floored, 3,000 weirdos downloaded my mod. Add to that, people seemed to actually like it! I've never gotten so much positive feedback for anything in my life. Seriously. Apparently, my oddball internal monologue, thanks ADHD, is quite entertaining. Heck, might as well make another one... and here we are. Yes, I've gotten negative comments and unreasonable demands, but I do my best to ignore them and practice staying positive. Trolls be damned! It's a lot harder to do that for yourself than for other people, turns out.

So, bottom line, found something interesting? Try it! Does it make you happy? Keep doing it! Even if it's only for yourself, do the thing and let it make you smile. Share it with the world if you're so inclined. Get out there and kick ass!!

[starryalpacasstuff]

Indian BL? FROM 2017????

There's an Indian BL from 2017 that I just watched. And I have incoherent thoughts

Before I continue, massive thanks to my bestie @anixknowsnothin for telling me about this show and proofreading the post for me. You don't even watch bl so I have no idea how you found this, but I'm incredibly grateful nonetheless

Here's the link to where I watched the show from, there's a glitch in the first episode subs where the subs seem to be from another show entirely, but it's only for the first ep and about 50% of the dialogue is in English anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to follow.(My ask box is also always open if there's a specific dialogue/scene in Hindi that you want the translation of)

Edit: The link seems to be region locked, so to watch it you can use a vpn and set your region to India, otherwise the episodes are available on youtube, albeit without subs

Note:- this post is going to have a few mild spoilers throughout, but I'll flag major spoilers in red

It's no secret that India is fairly behind when it comes to queer love shows if we compare it to other Asian countries. While it has a handful of great queer shows and movies, it's still quite a small quantity. Additionally, before this, I'd never watched an Indian show that felt like I was watching a bl (if you have recs, please send them my way!!). I'm not going to get into the technicalities of what feels like a bl and doesn't, because honestly, I'm not completely sure myself. For now, I'm just going based off of vibes and feelings, and this show felt like a bl through and through.

Titled 'Romil and Jugal' after its main characters, the story is a modern, desi, bl remake of the classic story...

Romeo and Juliet

Well, Bad Buddy was the first Thai bl I ever watched, so Romil and Jugal being the first Indian BL I watched just feels right, no?

I didn't actually know that the story was based off of Romeo and Juliet till the second episode, because I didn't bother looking for a synopsis, and jumped right in. However, it's links to Romeo and Juliet quickly became apparent, around the same time I started to see similarities between this show and Bad Buddy. I also did not know that this show came out in 2017 before I googled it, having already watched the entire thing, which was a pretty huge shock, because this BL is progressive by 2024 India standards.

Alright, enough of my rambling. Here's a synopsis of the show in case you haven't heard of it. (I couldn't find an official one, so I did my best to write a spoiler free synopsis)

Ramya happens to start talking to a slightly older woman at an airport, who believes that there is no romance in the younger generation. To prove her wrong, Ramya decides to tell the older woman her brother's love story. The story from the past is shown to us as Ramya narrates it to the woman in the present. Jugal is a closeted 19-year-old who lives with his parents. One day, a family moves into the house next door, and Jugal immediately falls for the son, Romil. The two of them attend the same college, and eventually become friends. The two of them eventually get together, but have to face the challenges of a homophobic society and having parents that hate each other.

I was a little skeptical of the show going in, but the show surpassed all of my expectations in the best way possible. It's no masterpiece, and it has its flaws, but it was far better than what I expected. It had both comical elements and darker themes, and it did not shy away from exploring the darker themes at all. Oh, and it has a few musical numbers. What did you expect? This is India after all.

The show is 10 episodes long, with 20 minutes per episode, and so it does unfortunately fall into some of the pitfalls that shorter shows tend to fall into, namely underdeveloped relationships and rushed endings. I did end up feeling a little bit like it didn't make sense for the pair to sacrifice and suffer as much as they did because they hadn't known each other for very long, and I felt like they should have been given more time to fall in love with each other. But it also could be argued that the show stays true to the play, and Romil and Jugal are dumb teenagers who make mistakes and stick with each other through them. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it.

One thing that I loved the show for was that it showed us that the relationship is not all sunshine and rainbows. They argue, they break up, they get back together, and they do argue even after that. But every time, they eventually work through the issue and reconcile. The show even depicts Romil dealing with internalized homophobia and struggling to reconcile with the fact that he will never be who his family wants him to be. Although I do wish they'd have had more time to explore this, I'd say it was decently depicted and handled. The show really delves into how children are forced to uphold their family's wishes and are constantly put under pressure to make them proud. Although it clearly affects both of them, it's more obvious with Romil, who is expected by his family to date and marry the daughter of his father's boss, whom they think he is dating. There's a metaphor along this theme too, where Romil pretends to like the mango shake that his mom has been making for him since he was a kid, even though he hates it, and when he tries to tell her, he has to act like it was a joke to spare her feelings. The show also goes into the communal mindset of basing your actions off "what will people think?", and you can see how a lot of the characters' actions throughout the show are haunted by this question. Some of Romil and Jugal's earlier disagreements are due to this very mindset.

The show also very candidly depicts the extreme homophobia of society in India. Romil and Jugal had to constantly hide who they were, always having to keep up a mask and I felt that reach somewhere deep inside me. When the pair come out, the show really shows how ugly homophobia can be in India. Their parents immediately disown them. They're mocked in college and wrongfully suspended for a fight that was provoked by other students. Very, very few people stand with them, and the pair very quickly realize that now that they are out, they simply cannot live in the city anymore. So with the help of Jugal's best friend and her mother, they flee to Mumbai, where they get jobs and live as paying guests with a friend of the aforementioned mother. But, even in Mumbai, the masks stay up. They have to act like cousins, for fear of being persecuted. The series depicted the worst-case scenario that so many of us live in fear of, so watching it was something of a cathartic experience for me.

Another thing that the show did quite well is showing how different people and their mindsets can be. Jugal's best friend, Ahalya, and her mom are very supportive, and they help the pair out quite a bit. Ahalya's mother provided a safe house for the pair and helped them find a fresh start. Meanwhile, Romil and Jugal's parents are incredibly homophobic. There was a scene that really stuck with me, (mild spoiler ahead, skip to the last sentence of the paragraph) where Ahalya's mother came across Jugal's mother, who prided herself on being educated and well-read, searching up how to cure homosexuality. Ahalya's mother then tells her off for calling herself educated yet believing that homosexuality is an illness. It is so important to me that the show depicted both the violent homophobia that permeates Indian society and the surprising, warm acceptance that one can find.

One final thing that I loved about this show so, so much is just how authentically Indian it feels. Asian cultures share a lot in common, but they also have their differences, so seeing a show where I can imagine encountering the characters in real life is really amazing. Rather than something big, it was little things sprinkled throughout the story that warmed my heart. The story felt like something I could hear the local aunties gossiping about. The way it depicts queerness in India hits incredibly close to home.

One thing I've learned watching Asian bls is that the ending of a show can make it or break it, but with this one, I'm stuck. The best way I can describe the ending is absolutely insane and incredibly Bollywood.

I believe this show was supposed to get a second season because the last two minutes of the show leave us with a massive cliffhanger. Now, it's been 7 years, so a second season is unlikely, so I'm simply pretending that the last two minutes of the show never happened. But the ending has so much more to it than just this (Major spoilers for the ending up ahead. I mean it when I say major, this is like going into Bad Buddy knowing that they're going to trick their parents in the end).

About halfway through the show, I remembered what play it was based upon and realized that there was a very real possibility that Romil and Jugal would die. The first half of the last episode leads up to this, telling us that they died when reconciling after an argument in the middle of the road when they were hit by a truck. We get a super emotional scene (yes, I cried) where the two families somewhat reconcile in their grief as they go to the police station to identify the bodies. Except... they're not dead, which is revealed when Romil's father hugs Romil's (not) dead body. They reveal that they planned this to show their family that they still loved their sons. I did say it was like PatPran tricking their parents in the end, didn't I? So the families reunite, Romil and Jugal get jobs in New Zealand and get married, and return to India for a wedding celebration (yes, I cried. again). The ending does feel slightly rushed, but if I'm being honest, it wasn't as terrible as it could have been. Believing that your child is dead for a bit is a somewhat justifiable reason for a sudden change of heart. There's a part where Romil and Jugal tell their parents that if they choose acceptance, they can reconcile, but if they choose to remain prejudiced, Romil and Jugal can simply get back on the stretchers, because they'll be as good as dead to their families anyways and it is *chef's kiss*.

All in all, the show was surprisingly heartfelt and poignant. It had me laughing, kicking my feet and even crying. There's a lot more about this show that I could talk about, but I'm going to stop here for now, and I'll try to write more on it later. This show really does deserve more recognition than it has, and I'm almost mad at myself for not knowing about it before. Am I being really biased when talking about this show? Absolutely. But I do think that this show is a worthwhile watch, and I'd really like to see what other people on here think of the show, especially because I'm aware that I am biased towards this show.

I'm tagging a few people who I know might be interested/have some thoughts about the show because this is a show that I really want to hear other people's opinions on and have conversations about, so I hope you guys don't mind!

@waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @bengiyo @neuroticbookworm

[melancholicmarionette]

[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]

Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM

“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”

“I will fucking kill you.”

Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.

Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.

Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.

“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.

The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.

“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”

“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”

“So what is today’s topic, then?”

It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.

They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.

“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”

“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”

“And suffering.”

“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”

“You cannot just drop that on me.”

“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”

“Collab…”

“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”

Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.

“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”

“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.

“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.

“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”

“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”

“We should edit her name out before we upload.”

“We should.”

“…We’re not going to.”

“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”

[tokyodescriber]

how these posts work

i am not a professional transcriptionist, this account is mainly for my ease of use finding lines in episodes for my own use. i am not affiliated with tokyo debunker or zigzagames in any way. i am not profiting off of this in any way. i'm archiving.

episodes will mainly be written in the following form:

haku: hello i am here to flirt with you

mc: oh this makes me flustered

[comic panels show haku looking at mc, a hand on his hip. there are flowers blowing through the air around him.]

so basically character, spoken line in the little box, and if a comic sequence pops up, i'll describe it in basic terms. i am trying to get this done efficiently so it'll probably be really basic descriptions at first and then i'll go back and add more detail later. if you're looking for full analyses of comic panels and the things they contain, hit me up on @timeslipcamp lol i'm happy to do that there! this is unbiased and just recording what the chapters say

if i have the time, i'll try and include all dialogue trees when given a choice. posts will most likely be done chapter by chapter so that they dont end up absurdly long. i'm recording them in a google doc and then pasting here for cataloguing purposes.

characters will be tagged in the post if they have a speaking line

my goal is to make this super easy to read whether you're on the computer or on mobile so if anyone sees anything ugly (or typos!!) let me know

any non transcription post will be tagged as #chimi rambles or #progress report

if you have any questions, please send to timeslipcamp, i check that ask box and comments there way more often! i'll get index pages and an FAQ set up after i get the first few chapters of the prologue posted.

this is going to take forever lol

-chimi

[vespaer77]

I'd like to tell you a story...

... about my first Tav, Shayla Moonsong.

She is a Zariel tiefling, and a College of Lore Bard, and while she wasn't my first Tav, she was the first one to finish the game. I had romanced Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion in early access, so I focused on her because I was anxious to try a new romance, Halsin. However, because she was created just after full release, her save file was horrifically bugged. I got the cut scenes for Halsin that allowed me to progress his companion quest and cure Moonhaven of the shadow curse, but after that I could get no further dialogue from him at all, even in camp. I was playing with a party limit mod by the time he joined my party, so I never needed to worry about dismissing him from my party, but I did occasionally have difficulty with him following the party. I had to run around controlling him a lot. The only scene I ever got with him once he joined me was specifically his sex scene, after I did the love test at the circus in Act 3. I knew literally nothing about him, lol, so I had to google the answers.

But that was the thing. I knew… nothing about this guy. He was just some hot elf my bard boned, I had zero investment in him other than that. And it became a head canon for me about her - she was a typical bard, slutting her way to the Gate. She slept with the Emperor, she had a foursome with the drow twins and Halsin, and she absolutely played Haarlep's game to get his pass code. And while I'd wished, at the time, I could have had the additional enrichment of a poignant, heartfelt romance, I did enjoy exploring a character that was more free with her sexuality. As a result, though, I'd ended up "saving myself" for Halsin, because I knew his romance would (or in my case should but didn't) open up very late in the game. And I'd shot down all of the other companions fairly quickly.

Including Gale.

Especially Gale.

He was still bugged at the time, and his… overly amorous nature, lol, was widely known to anyone who'd spent more than ten minutes on the internet. So I ignored a lot of opportunities to know him better. And at the time, he was honestly my least favorite character. Particularly because I truly didn't enjoy him in early access. I genuinely found him offputting and way too over the top, and subsequently much of his narrative flew straight over my head.

Like a Boeing 777.

But let's be honest. Because of the nature of his story, and the way he seems to compartmentalize his trauma as devotion, and because of the mask of charm and confidence he wears to convince your character of his usefulness, and the way he tempers his emotions so he doesn't upset the orb, all of these things… the complexity of his narrative is super duper subtle. Or at least to me it was. I was the complete dumb dumb that didn't pick it up from context like we were supposed to.

Until I played my bard, Shayla. The first one to get through Act 3.

I had saved the culmination of Gale's quest in Sorcerous Sundries til nearly the end. Just before all the stuff with the foundry and Gortash. At the time, he was still a checklist item, a box to mark off on my road to the final boss.

So I went into it feeling like this man was probably pretty fed up with me, lol. And then he read the Annals of Karsus and I realized right then just how much I'd taken this character for granted. Because everything about him, his entire personality, shifted right there, and he became… someone else. And everyone else in my party noticed it too. The choice of responses I was given was crafted in a way that made me feel like the writers very much wanted me to notice a change had taken place within Gale. And then I picked a response that was honestly a touch unkind. I don't remember what I said to him, but…

He yelled at me.

"She left me to die!" he said. I remember that part.

And when the camera panned back to me and the party, we were all wide eyed and reared away from him in shock and disbelief that this charming, confident, gregarious, and benign creature was suddenly so… dark. And it was at that moment that a light switch was flipped. The missing puzzle piece was found and snapped into place. Suddenly I understood everything I'd missed up to that point, and it was more than just an "ah hah!" moment. It was an, "Oh my god…" moment. He hadn't become someone else.

We were seeing who he truly was for the first time.

His mask had slipped. Cracked beneath strain. He'd been pushed to a breaking point.

Naturally, because he's Gale, he recovered quickly. But it was too late. I saw him. And then two things happened. I fell in love with him. Instantly. But then I also realized the game was almost over. His romance opportunity had come and gone, there wouldn't be a "confess your love at the last minute" option. And of course his fate at the end of the game was not so kind to my bard either.

I've had big feelings about it ever since.

And then the Hugs mod came out, which only served to further poke my great big ouchy feelings.

I've lived in head canon land for a while now when it comes to Shayla Moonsong. In my head canon, he did end up taking her advice, he did pick an outcome that didn't involve using the Crown of Karsus or the Karsite Orb, and in no way did he become a pulverized cloud of stardust. He ended the game living peacefully in Waterdeep, giving Tara belly rubs and ushering in the next generation of wizards without grooming them for a lifetime of suffering.

But that leaves Shayla herself and her big, unresolved feelings. Feelings that were never processed or acknowledged, as the time was never right between her relationship status with Halsin and the fate of the world resting on her shoulders.

So, what is a bard to do when she falls in love, but it's too late?

Nothing small, that's for sure. And it will probably involve singing.

(I'm planning on maybe two to three chapters for this story, in which she very much makes things worse before they get better, lol. She's still learning. But it's definitely gonna end with some light cunnilingus and good, heavy railing either on a kitchen counter or against a bookshelf. I haven't decided yet. I do hope, if you do decide to read this humble beginning, that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And also please excuse my ill attempts at self-effacing meta humor.)

Pairing: Gale / named fem!Tav bard Rating: Smut is imminent (once we get through the foreplay… er, mutual pining) Word count: 4790

Read the story HERE or under the cut

Chapter One: The Wizard, The Real One

"Is there a loan shark in the audience or something?" Jory asked.

"Hmm?" Nelsyn replied, but she didn't look up from her lines. He supposed that was fair. She was busy letting Sara fix the adhesive on the curly teal wig that sat between her horns, and Jory knew as well as anyone on cast that nothing good came from troubling the crew. He let his heavy bear pelt slip from his shoulders as he sat down in the empty chair next to her.

"She's been there all night," he told his friend as he nodded toward the entryway to stage right. "Boss lady. We've been touring this show for months. We could all do it in our sleep, she knows that. Never seen her hover like this."

And there was no reason for it. "The Fall of the Absolute" was a roaring success. The production was Shayla Moonsong's crowning achievement, a media darling, and the current obsession of a whole continent. She'd catalogued volumes of stellar, five-star reviews thus far, and was selling out box offices everywhere she went. The show was the hottest new thing since "Volo's Guide to Sex in the Elemental Planes."

But it wasn't her biggest accomplishment. It wasn't what she was truly known for.

She was the Hero of Baldur's Gate.

She faced the illithid Netherbrain herself, and won.

And the tale they were telling in front of all those people was her story.

Heavens knew the winsome bard had faced far greater perils than watching a chapter of her life play out on a stage.

And yet there she stood, on this most unremarkable of nights, leaning just inside the door frame where she could observe without obstructing. Where she could scan the audience like a scrying eye, searching for… something. Normally she'd be flitting about like a cloud of gnats directing the cast and crew, answering questions, giving orders, helping the caterer, filling water jugs, finding toilet paper, running errands, meeting VIPs. Trying not to go crazy. But not tonight. Tonight she stood very still, chewing her thumbnail and unconsciously flicking the tip of her tail over and over, hard to the left.

And Jory remembered what Nelsyn had said about what it meant when tieflings flicked their tail to the left.

She was clearly nervous about something.

"Well, we're about to do the big emotional number," Nelsyn finally told him, closing the cover of her script while Sara gave her wig a good yank to test the glue. "It's the one all the teenage girls are sobbing over their sketch pads for right now."

She stopped to take a sip of water when Sara bent to pick up her cosmetics case. The girl made a gesture to Jory to give up his seat, and he tripped over his own feet unfolding himself to stand up. Once again he was reminded why he was cast as the big druid, Halsin. Shayla had told him once that while he wasn't quite as tall as the real thing… he was close. He wondered how easily the boss lady's former lover would have fit into that chair.

"This is our first time in Waterdeep," Nelsyn continued, trying her best not to move her lips while Sara applied a fresh coat of pink stain. "She probably just wants to see how it gets received. She doesn't really get to just sit out there and watch, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Could be it," Sara told them both, bunching her eyebrows and concentrating on keeping her hand steady. "Part of it, anyway. That is her favorite character out there, singing his heart out about the bomb in his chest."

"Her favorite character? The wizard?"

"Someone else got a bomb?"

"Please. Everyone knows I'm her favorite character."

"Listen," she replied as she wiped the applicator clean with a kerchief, "you're a good looking kid, and no one hates watching you take your clothes off out there." Nelsyn snorted, but they both ignored her. "A healthy percentage of ticket sales is probably yours, no one's arguing that. But that's not enough for you to game the win."

"Game the w- what?" Jory laughed, his oiled obliques glistening as he pulled the bear pelt back over his shoulders. "Look, I'm not trying to make it a competition or anything, okay? You brought it up. But I literally play an archdruid who carves ducks, sings to squirrels, and adopts orphans. Plus? He looks like this." He swept his hands grandly over his abdomen, flexing muscles most people had only seen in paintings or medical textbooks. "And did I mention he's also her boyfriend?"

"Her ex-boyfriend," Sara corrected him, pointing at Nelsyn as she spoke. "Have you even listened to the song she's getting ready to sing? You know. The one about love? And sacrifice?" She shifted her weight as an intern sidled past her to tidy the table, refill their drinks, and bag up the trash. "And don't tell me you haven't looked at Erik with both of your eyeballs. We've all seen him. The man has eyelashes as long as your forearm. And the biggest, saddest, wettest brown eyes on the face of this planet. He's like a baby cow, okay? I'm just saying." She stood to let the intern past her again, and bent to drag her cosmetics case out of the way. "This is the man she cast to play the lead in the big romantic climax of the whole show. When the main character realizes she's in love and it's too late. She's managed to capture," she pinched her fingers in front of her face, "the very essence of what it means to have sad children mooning over this show for years to come, okay? The baby cow is a cash cow. And he is clearly her favorite character."

"I think the vampire is her favorite character," the intern said, unprompted, as she reached to help Nelsyn out of her seat. "He's everyone's favorite character."

"You're all wrong," Nelsyn told them as she sloughed her way out of her robe with great theatrical flair. The intern caught it before it hit the floor, just as she'd done so many times before. Nelsyn stood with her hands on her hips and a gallant curve to her tail, casting her eyes toward the rafters and beaming a heavily pink-stained smile, resplendent in her artificially distressed leather armor blotted with thick fake blood.

"I'm her favorite character," she said, glowing with certainty. "And it should be obvious. I'm her! Now, stand back and watch while I go make a bunch of little girls cry!" And with that, she grinned devilishly and pranced toward the stage.

But once she was gone, the intern leaned forward and beckoned. Jory found himself instinctually drawn to listen.

"Well, you wanna know what I heard?" she whispered, and her eyes landed on Shayla for only just a moment. Jory nodded out of reflex. "I heard a rumor that someone in the orchestra pit overheard the boss lady telling someone in the box office that there was going to be a special guest tonight."

"What. Like, family?" Jory asked. "I thought she was an orphan."

"Could be anyone," Sara answered him from where she stood, combing through a wig hanging on the wall. "Philanthropist, politician. Who knows.

"Or," the intern hissed, leaning in even closer, "it could be one of them."

"One of who?"

"You know. Them. Thems what was with her, when all this went down."

"Like… like one of the actual…?"

"Don't you two have anything better to do than -"

"Wait. We're in Waterdeep," Jory breathed. He snatched up Nelsyn's script and started thumbing through it, fanning the pages and blowing a strand of hair across his nose. "Isn't… isn't the wizard…?"

Sara dropped her comb to her side and opened her mouth, but stopped and blinked at him instead. A thoughtful look crept across her face. She nodded her head in defeat.

"The wizard's from Waterdeep."

Then, as one, they all turned to look at Shayla where she stood at stage right, still as a statue.

And the music began to swell. The strings stirred the air with sounds as soft and sweet as sunset. The woodwinds sang a shrill crescendo as Erik began to make his famous climb.

And Nelsyn began to sing her famous song.

Before she disappeared beyond the narrow view from stage right, Jory watched her as she raised her arm to reach for him.

The wizard.

And her voice rang out so high and so clear, so heavy with every loss that Shayla Moonsong had ever suffered, with every plea that ever twisted her heart in bitter knots. With every word that ever fell from the mighty pen of their beloved playwright.

Who stood now with her hand at her throat. It bobbed once when she swallowed. Her lips parted and she drew a breath, and a hush fell over the crowd. She settled in to listen with the rest of them.

And her tail flicked once more to the left.

I know I've been unkind to you And I've pushed you way too far And I know in ignorance I forced you To reveal the man you are And I know I've left you with nothing to lose And even less to gain And though I know you owe me nothing Please don't give in to pain

Erik's silhouette was emblazoned across the long, velvet curtain hanging behind the hideously decorated staircase he was climbing. His movements were eery and real, despite their paltry attempts to pantomime a grisly memory that none of them had ever lived. Each step was measured and dreamlike and perfect, like a person caught in a trance or a dead man called home to his rest by a spectral light.

Or in this case, a massive papier mache facsimile of a netherbrain hung from a scaffold over the stage.

Please, Please don't do this I'm begging you not to go Please, Please don't do this There's something you need to know What can I do to make you wait Convince a goddess to change your fate Please tell me that it's not too late There's something I didn't say…

"It can't be him, though. Can it?" Jory asked. "Didn't he, like," he pointed a finger toward the stage, "explode?"

"Oh, no. It's just a story, mate," came a voice from behind them. It was Velanthyr, the elf who played Astarion. They rounded the table and perched themself on the corner, placing their white wig beside them as they took a bite from an apple. "She's embellished tons of stuff. For emotional impact. They all do it."

I should have loved you since I met you I should have loved you all along

"That bard she played? In the first act?"

"Yeah?"

"She ain't really dead either."

"Seriously?"

I should have told you that I love you Instead of hiding behind a song

"My cousin met her. Said he saw her play someplace they had dinner."

"No shit?"

"It's true. She teaches music in Baldur's Gate."

Is there nothing left that I can do But fall to my knees and pray

"So what's with her, anyway?" Velanthyr asked, pointing their apple at Shayla while they wiped the juice from their lips with their other hand.

The tip of her tail flicked again, and slowly she wrapped her arms around her middle.

To any god or any devil Who'd keep you from walking away

"She's been acting weird all night," they said.

"S'what we were just talking about."

Please, Please don't do this! Turn around! This isn't right!

"We think the wizard might be out there," the intern told them. "The real one."

"Oh no," the elf laughed.

Please, Please don't do this! Please, I'm begging you to fight!

"Hope he has a sense of humor. It's about to get weird!"

"Weird?!" Sara growled at them, flinging her comb about.

Forget your fickle god's desire I'd cross the oceans, I'd walk through fire I'd conquer all the Hells entire For you And yes, I know you're tired

"The man is getting ready to watch himself die! And I'm sure I don't need to remind you his death is self-inflicted! If there's a chance that any of this is real? That the trauma this man survived is on display? You all need to show a little respect." She shook her head and turned back to her wig. "Shut up and let her listen."

Sara's words may have stung him, but Jory knew she was right. So he obeyed her, and he listened. And for the first time he truly heard the fragile warble of desperate heartache that Nelsyn had worked so hard to craft through her voice.

Come back to me and take your rest Indulge one overdue caress I'll steal the sorrow from your chest And confess, I will confess

But he didn't just uncover a new appreciation for his friend and her level of skill. There was more to it than that. There was a depth to this scene that he'd been missing before now.

There was a meaning. One that wasn't meant for the whole world.

It was only meant for one man.

He could sense it in the vibrant tension bound between Shayla Moonsong's shoulder blades.

And then Nelsyn grew quiet. Everything got quiet. The music made a subtle shift to something low and dulcet, but tense, like a string pulled too tight without snapping. Jory found his feet had led him to stand at Shayla's shoulder. He could hear her breathing through her teeth and he felt compelled to reach out and take her hand.

She took hold of it like a lifeline.

You're everything to me and more You're all that I've been fighting for You're more than just an end to war…

Nelsyn paused after that last note. It was important to the narrative, it was the whole point behind the wizard's story. But her longing would go deliciously unrequited, and would inspire a veritable deluge of creativity from fandom communities everywhere.

Shayla squeezed Jory's hand, squeezed her eyelids firmly shut. She held her breath and Jory could see Erik had reached the top of the rise. There he stood, a straight, unyielding figure gazing off into the liminal distance, resolute.

And he would never turn around.

It wouldn't be long. Any moment.

Nelsyn sang her penultimate line.

And I would give my life for yours…

She held the word so long it nearly sank into Jory's skin. It sent a wave goosebumps to crest over every inch of his body. The orchestra wove their way through their final, sweeping refrain, and the conductor brought them to a close on a plaintive harmony between a flute and an oboe.

And then the light collapsed.

It shrank to a small, pale circle that drew its stark and shining focus on a razor-slim shadow cast against the curtain.

In the shape of a dagger.

Erik lifted it high and turned its point toward his heart.

"Gods preserve me," Shayla mumbled to herself. It was the only sound Jory could hear aside from the sniffs and sniffles of the audience. Collectively they teetered at the edges of their seats, enthralled by a beautiful, mournful man who was counting the final seconds of his life with undaunted stoicism and courage.

Nelsyn could've whispered her final line if she wanted to, but instead it burst from her as a scream.

"Don't do this!!!"

Jory felt it thrum like a shockwave within his own chest, and beside him Shayla flinched. She squeezed his hand even harder.

"Just tell me when it's over," she said to him. And then suddenly there was a flurry of activity.

He took a step back and yanked her away from the door when a small flock of technicians flew in to crowd the space they left behind.

Up high, far in the corner, Jory saw the dagger move against the curtain. And all of the good people of Waterdeep gasped when they watched the blade meet its mark.

"Fire in the hole," a technician murmured beside him, and the spotlight on the curtain went black.

Then a pair of spells were cast that bathed the audience in a blinding aurora. It blazed with ribbons of vivid blues and purples and greens, speckled with myriad glittering white stars.

And an arrow of roaring thunder was launched far overhead. It detonated with such a resounding boom that it shook everything, even the floor boards beneath Jory's feet. It rattled seats and drinking vessels, it toppled music stands, and it made Erik's staircase sway alarmingly as it was wheeled backstage, with him still riding precariously at its top.

Shayla Moonsong's face fell into her hands.

"Go on," Erik sang as he danced his way down the stairs. "Tell me how devastating I was. Don't hold back. Tell me everything."

"You were spectacular, my love!" Velanthyr assured him as they ran to greet him, cradling his face in their hands and kissing him sweetly. "You always are."

"Were they weeping?" he asked his lover, nuzzling their face with his own. "The lights are so bright, I can never see."

"They were drowning in their tears, darling. Drowning."

"Is everything alright?" Sara asked as she approached on her tiptoes, reaching for Shayla's arm. Velanthyr's wig drooped at her side, forgotten. "What can I do?"

"I can't even look," Shayla whimpered through the palms that smothered her face.

"Oh honey," Sara cooed as she pulled the woman closer. And in a blessed act of mercy, she asked the question that no one wanted to ask, but someone needed to. Long before now, before this critical point had been breached.

"He's out there, isn't he?"

"I think I've made a huge mistake." Shayla slid her fingertips down to press against her lips, unable to form any other words. She could only shake her head, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Do you want us to look? See if we can see him?"

"I don't think I wanna know."

"Where is he seated?"

"E6."

"Oh." Sara briefly grimaced at Jory, but didn't stop rubbing circles across Shayla's back. "Front and center. Of course."

"Yep." The way her lips popped at the end of the word only served to emphasize how mortified she was. "Wouldn't want him to miss anything."

"Well, of course not. He's your guest," Sara replied, jerking her chin in a way that suggested Jory had been volunteered for reconnaissance.

"Oh gods!" Shayla raked her claws past her horns to twist them into her hair. "I even told him he could invite his mother!"

"Well that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, one would think."

Jory understood his assignment. He sauntered away but paused at the door frame. The show wasn't over yet. When the technicians finished collecting their gear, they scrambled off to safely stow their rockets and retrieve the set pieces for the final scenes. They were dragging the staircase away from the main thoroughfare when Corinne, the woman who played the narrator, whipped past them.

"Coming through," she chimed, racing out to center stage, taking her place before the curtains could rise once more. Her final soliloquy would lead them into the epilogue, and would give Jory the opportunity he needed to cast his eyes past the orchestra pit and across the section of seats that lie beyond.

Front and center.

He would only have a minute or two. Sara would need to replace Velanthyr's wig. Erik needed a drink and Nelsyn's makeup needed a touch up. Very soon they would be on stage, the lights burning holes through their retinas, leaving them blinded and oblivious to all but each other and the saga they would spin to its end. He reached up to buckle the clasp on the bear pelt that draped across his shoulders.

For now, it was the narrator's turn. But he was ready. And then the curtains rose.

He smashed his face against the door frame like a cat burglar. A shaft of light swung down upon the stage illuminating Corinne at its center, and Jory peered out into the darkness it left in its wake. He squinted until he found the end of the section behind the orchestra pit, and he started counting backwards from there.

But seat E6 was empty.

Certain he'd made a mistake, he counted back again to double check, to be extra sure.

But he was right the first time.

"It's empty," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Shayla cried as she spun to face him.

"Yeah," he told her. "I counted twice to make sure I had the right seat, but no one's in it."

"Oh gods." She began to pace, wringing her hands. "What about the one next to it?"

"Which side?"

"Just tell me if you see an older woman."

"Umm, okay." At first he wasn't certain. There was a child on the right side, but on the left was a person who'd stood up, and was bent with their back toward him, like they were reaching for something. "I think… maybe. Yeah. I think so. It looks like she's getting up. She's picking up a bag or something. Is that a cat?"

"Tara?"

"Who brings a cat to a -"

"She's not a cat. She's a tressym."

"What the hell is a tress- holy shit, it's got wings! It just flew over - oh! Oh, I think I see him!"

"Where!"

The tressym sailed through the air to float beside a tall, slender man who was moving quickly up the aisle toward the exit. He wasn't running, out of proper respect for social decorum, but he had the energy of a man who wished he was. His shoulders were hitched up near his ears and he was stifling his mouth with the back of one hand.

And a shiver ran down Jory's spine.

This was the guy. The wizard. The real one.

Gale Dekarios, of Waterdeep.

In the flesh. Right there.

From what little Jory could see, the play had done him justice. He was a very handsome man, lithe and lean, long-legged with a powerful stride, and every bit as comely as Erik had depicted him to be.

Yet it was hard to imagine, through simple sight alone, that this was a man who had once been the Chosen of a god. Or that this was a man who had once vanquished the avatar of Death itself. A man who had put an end to the Cult of the Absolute.

A man who had once made his own decision about whether or not to plunge a dagger into his heart.

But it was easy to see why Shayla would want to stop him. This man clearly meant something to her.

He didn't know what providence deemed it necessary for him to ask. It certainly wasn't any of his business. But the question tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden. Perhaps the gods themselves just wanted to hear someone finally say it out loud.

"Does he know how you feel about him?"

Shayla slumped and let her hands fall limp to her sides. She pulled her lip into her mouth, and her eyes swam with visions of regret. "No," she whispered to him. "It was never the right time."

Oh, how irony could be so cruel.

"You should go after him, then," he told her. "Go quick. If you hurry, you can catch him before he gets to the front door."

"Shit!" she snarled and for a moment, Jory was afraid she'd scurry across the stage in the middle of Corinne's long and emotional speech. There was a wild streak in him that almost hoped she would. But instead, she bolted through the loading bay doors and flung herself outside, presumably to tear down the alley between the theater and the wine cellar to run around the building toward the front.

Nelsyn wandered over to them, sipping cold water from her mug and watching over her shoulder as the loading bay doors swung back and forth on their hinges.

"Jory," she stated flatly. "What did you do."

"What?!" he cried. Sara could only double over and laugh at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"Somebody did something," she said, eyeing the doors skeptically. "And it looks a lot like it was you."

"I'm serious! She asked if we could see him, and I told her yes. That's all."

"See who?"

"The wizard!"

"What wizard? You mean, like… Erik?"

"No!" He stuck out both hands and shook them. "The actual wizard! The real one, from Waterdeep! Yes, he's still alive! No, he didn't explode!"

"Well, everybody knows that…"

"She wanted to know where he was, so I told her, and then she ran out the door."

"Wait. So he was actually here tonight?"

"Jory," Sara accused him, still smiling pitifully at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not all you said to her."

"But I didn't -"

"You asked her a pretty personal question."

"Where was he sitting?" Nelsyn continued as she took another drink and leered at him over the rim over her mug.

"E6."

"Wow. Front and center."

"Yeah. She didn't want him to miss anything."

"So what did you ask her?"

Jory could only roll his eyes and sigh. None of them had time for this. He dropped his head and pinched his brow between his thumb and his forefinger but when he looked up, he found all eyes were on him. Even Erik and Velanthyr had paused their conversation long enough to turn around and stare. The technicians in the back tried to appear as if they weren't listening, but everyone knew they were. Suddenly, he could feel the heat that was trapped beneath the heavy mantle of his bear pelt.

"I asked her if he knew how she felt about him."

"What do you mean, how she felt…" And through the window of her eyes he could see her mentally calculating every single word she'd just sung. Right in front of the very man it was all intended for. Seated front and center, missing nothing. Her eyes flickered like golden flames.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "Like… feelings? Real ones? What did she say?"

He didn't get to answer. Just then, raucous applause erupted from behind them. The thunderous retort of clapping hands and cheers drowned all other sound, and signaled to them all that their time was up. Corinne came skipping backstage as the curtains fell behind her.

"And that's a wrap for me! Slam and a dunk! Go get 'em while they're - what's going on?"

"The wizard was here tonight," Nelsyn answered her without breaking her eye contact with Jory. "The real one. Shayla is in love with him. What did she sayyy?"

"No," he told her, holding very still while Sara dabbed a powder puff over his face. "She said no. He doesn't know."

"Are you serious?" Corinne gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

"Well he does now," Sara chuckled, wriggling her eyebrows as she dropped the powder back into her cosmetics case. "I hope she caught him before he got away. He deserves an explanation."

And all around them, activity buzzed. Scenic backdrops rolled by, the intern fussed with Velanthyr's wig on her tiptoes, Sara dug frantically around searching for her lip stain, and the other actors began lining up to take their places. But in spite of the jubilant bustle of life happening all around them, Nelsyn could only stand with her mug in her hands, awestruck by the revelation they'd just been given.

"Sweet tapdancing Asmodeus," she laughed, shaking her head with her eyes transfixed on some far away place. "You mean to tell me that this whole time," she jostled the water in her mug when she bellowed, "THIS WHOLE TIME?! This whole play has been just a great big love letter to some… man?! For months?! And he only just heard it? Tonight? For the first time?"

"I think that about sums it up, yep," Sara told her, taking the mug from her hands.

"That's genius!" She shuffled to her place in line, utterly befuddled, her eyes glassy and glazed. "They're star-crossed, it's perfect! I wish this would've happened months ago! Just you wait, you'll see. When all the little fan fic authors out there find out about this? They are gonna go berserk! People everywhere will pay money for a vial of our sweat! The contents of our chamber pots - we'll be famous!

"Gods have mercy on us all. There might even be a sequel. We'll be touring this show til the day we die!"

************************************************************************

[bettystonewell]

HELLO BEE👅EETH

Re: The WIP Folder Game -> Ahhh I see, Four Adults and a Baby got a new title! I like itttt

Have you decided yet whether you'll create an Aussie OC for Redacted / The Aussie Mistake? If so, anything you can tell us about her yet? :D Or have you got any other news / changes of the story? 👀

Hi Jolly!

Yup, new working titles!

At the moment, I’m playing with the original version, where the person is me running into Sam and Dean in an Aussie supermarket. The thing is, I kind of want them to stick around in the end and make them my house husbands above all else, but do you really want to read that?

Reducted comes from you mentioning that it’s the reverse of Abducted. We’ve got a parody, potentially more Aussie references, more of a chance for me to make fun of my own story/writing, plus them getting upset when they realise I wrote fanfics about them and what I’ve put them through... I’m not sure who will be more pissed about Snickerdoodles…

Only whatever the reason Sam and Dean are in Australia, it’s not as complicated as why Glowworm was brought to the States, not that I know how they got here yet. It’s a parody, I can turn something lame into a joke 😂

ETA - I just thought of something. Balthazar is upset with me for 1) never using him in a fic, and 2) my prior infatuation with THE SONG and Leo… And when I say, “But I can’t be the only one that fits the profile,” he’ll say, “No, but you’re the only one whose friend Jolly asked the question that inspired this mess.” - extreme 4th walling

So I’m going to leave you with some notes I have made for this version (I actually have some scenes written down in dialogue-point-form already):

They’ve been pulled from 2010 when the episode takes place, it’s 2025 here and still after the cyclone we had

That means their flip phones don’t work, but their credit cards do because I said so technology. I didn’t think about how they bought their groceries before that…

That also means it’s post COVID 😁 guess who gets to explain that?

So I will be getting them out of the raging hoard of bogans (Aussie rednecks) when they get noticed

I will drag them out to my car - Dean will not be impressed

Technically we should rearrange the car seats for Bobby-John and one of the big lugs in the back, but there’s not really time and I’m lazy so we all cram in

Conversations in the car will ensue, to which I will start to believe them or think they’re really deranged - a thing poor glowworm had to deal with

At some point we will have to try and call their agents right? Am I going to jail for kidnapping them?

First stop is picking up my oldest son from school though in which Dean insists on going with. This is where Covid will come into it

I’m not dragging someone who looks like Jensen fucking Ackles through my kids school, but luckily, I still have masks in my car’s glove box… pretty sure I wouldn’t put them on my own face, but he does

Which leads to questions about why I have face masks in my car. “Guys it’s 2025 . A lots happened in the world since—” she trails off. “2010?”

At some point we will Google the real Jared and Jensen and see if they’re missing or not. They’re not ✌️

Dean will hate my car so much, especially when he suspects my oil is low (my dad always does) and will try to fix it and get pissed off that I’m not all that interested

He will insist he should drive of course, and then fuck up the road rules here - near death experience

Oh, and mow the lawn for me

Sam will be too busy doing research

I will be stuck looking after Bobby-John along with my kids. However I can picture a scene of waking up to them having made breakfast or something and trying to make my life less stressful

Dean will flirt, maybe Sam too if I’m feeling that egotistical

The problem is, this could become very long if I let it… Honestly though, it’s so fun to write, and as long as I don’t go too deep - I can see one of them asking about my separation circumstances, which brings me to, they will shit on my ex - it should be okay 👌 and so I keep going! Whether I post it is another matter…

What do ya think? ❤️

[melercies]

✧ INTRODUCTION + RULES ✧

✧ Who am I and what are my pronouns?

You can refer to me as Mel, Melercies, or anything that you're comfortable with calling me by. I go by any pronouns. :]

✧ What am I currently writing for?

As of right now, I'm only writing Forsaken, specifically the survivors, until I manage to understand and try my best to write for the killers, killers will be hold off. I have been contemplating writing for Block Tales in the future. My writing will consist of x readers (Gender-Neutral), SFW content, headcanons, oneshots, drabbles, and scenarios. This is only a small fun hobby of mine that I will do when I have the motivation to do so.

✧ Am I taking requests at the moment?

Unfortunately, no. I have thought about it, and I'm sure that requests will eventually come to this blog, allowing everyone to request freely (with more direct rules that will be added for what I write and don't). I will announce when they will open once I'm in a more comfortable setting.

My ask box is currently open for any rants/comments/headcanons/ideas you'd like to share as of right now!

✧ Small Note About My Writing...

I do sincerely apologize as English is not my first language. My writing takes time since I like to edit, revise, and reread my writing to make sure that characters aren't mischaracterized and are interpreted well for my audience. Comments are always highly appreciated to help me for future purposes when it comes to writing/interpreting characters. Please do not hesitate to ask/comment.

One last thing I like to clarify, I am someone who is against the idea of using/feeding AI to improve or write for me, which includes chatbots. Yes, I do acknowledge that I have the usage of using em dashes, but I can assure you that I prefer using em dashes (which I usually google online for them to copy and paste) to make my writing more appealing than the simple "-". I find it more appealing when it comes to a cut-off of a scene or a character being cut off in dialogue. All my writing is always written in a Google Document that gets edited, revised, and reread before it gets finalized and posted.

Thank you.

✧ MASTERLIST ✧

✧ Forsaken

One Bed Trope [Sentinels]

One Bed Trope [Supports]

One Bed Trope [Survivalists]

✧ Divider Credits ✧

[captainsophiestark]

So something crazy happened this week - I hit 1.5k followers! 🥳

Genuinely thank you all so much for following me and supporting my writing. When I first joined Tumblr, I truly never could've dreamed how wonderful the community, friends, and fandom I've found would be. I love you all so much!

I've never done a follower celebration before, but I really wanted to do one for this milestone, so here we are! It's D&D themed, but no knowledge of D&D is required to join in the fun.

Our 1.5k follower campaign is going to be running from today, May 29th, to Wednesday, June 6th. During that time, feel free to send me as many things off the list below as you like! Interacting with people on here is one of my absolute favorite parts of Tumblr, so feel free to come into my ask box as many times as you like 😄

I'll be tagging all posts for this celebration as #Sophie's 1.5k Follower Campaign. You don't have to follow me to participate, but it would be greatly appreciated. Without further ado, here are the actions you can take during this campaign:

Zone of Truth - Send me an ask with a game, like KMK/FMK, Would You Rather, or anything else you can think of!

Roll Initiative - Roll some dice and send me a character from the list at the bottom of this post, along with the numbers you rolled! I have prompt lists left over from my Year of Fic planning, and I'll put your character and your dice rolls togeter to write a corresponding headcanon (or possibly longer fic, if the inspiration really strikes!). Roll one of the following, some of the following, or all of the following: 1d8, 1d10, 1d12, and 1d20. You can roll with real dice or by typing "roll dice" into google! Please specificy if you have a strong preference between a romantic or platonic fic.

Nat 20 (2 left) - Send me a character I write for and a request, and I'll write you a oneshot! My time's a little limited right now, so I'm capping these at 3 total requests. In the immortal words of Brian Murphy, "Roll three Nat 20s in a row!". If you want to also roll a d20 and send me the result, I'll add a dialogue prompt corresponding with the number you rolled to the request. Please specificy if you have a strong preference between romanitc and platonic fic.

Perception Check - I have a good amount of writing queued up for my Year of Fic and a few other projects, so send me this for a sneak peek of works to come! If you want to include a few fandoms or characters you'd most like to see included in the sneak peek, feel free to do that! Just no promises that I'll have something including them to show you

Behind the DM Screen - Send me the title of an existing fic of mine, along with specific questions if you have them, and I'll give you a little info on the process of creating the fic!

Free Action - Come into my ask box and chat with me! About fandoms, cute pet pitcures, or whatever else! Anons are welcome as usual, and if you feel like you want to be recognized without coming off anon, then you can claim an emoji and use it as a signature on your asks, so I know who you are! As of now, 🥰 emoji is the only one taken

Thank you again to every single one of you who's here with me now, from the beginning of this blog or from earlier today! I'm so happy to have you here and as a part of the party!

Writing Request Character Options:

Bridgerton: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton

Crescent City: Tristan Flynn, Ithan Holstrom, Lidia Cervos

DC: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Marvel: Grant Ward, Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa, Angie Martinelli, Harley Keener, Pietro Maximoff

*Riordanverse: Luke Castellan, Thalia Grace, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Jason Grace

Star Trek: Jim Kirk

Star Wars: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala

Top Gun: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

The Vampire Diaries: Mason Lockwood, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Damon Salvatore, Enzo St. John, Kai Parker, Caroline Forbes, Matt Donovan

*All characters in the Riordanverse are going to be book-based, since that's what I know best, and will be written as their ages at the end of Heroes of Olympus or older for requests involving romance

****************

Tagging a few mutuals who I've absolutely loved getting to this point with 🥰 thank you guys for being such a wonderful part of my experience in this place!

@ghostofskywalker @bandshirts-andbooks @trekkingaroundasgard @arttheclown-coveredinblood @flowers-and-fichte @everyhazyday @dawn-petrichor-world @space-helen @ro-is-struggling @writeroutoftime @shadowdaddies @hawaiianpizzaenjoyer

[10zenn]

@lasciviouskrp hi, and thanks for getting back to me + taking the time to answer my ask. i am answering on this blog because it is my rp blog and i don't want to spam my main with this, but i am the person whom you pirvately replied to. first of all, i would like to highlight the fact that public posts and obvious attempts to gain your attention would not have been used had you acknowledged the issue at hand right away, in an honest manner. instead of doing so, you decided to turn off your ask box and keep on posting, which is your decision, but you cannot be upset that it resulted in people getting louder. when you try to ignore something this problematic, it tends to grow. like now, i have no choice but to answer this publicly since i have no means to reach out in private.

the second thing i would like to highlight, before diving in my response, is that i am not "passionate" about this topic for fun, as you have alluded to, and you honestly do not get to appreciate my "passion" for it. my parents have lived through a war, my parents know people who have been human trafficked and forced into slavery. i am a person of colour. and this isn't to throw a pity party at all, it is only to make you understand that the topics you are writing carelessly are real life issues that are happening in the world right now, and that touch people in the very community you are writing.

the third thing i would like to make clear is that you do not get to dictate how someone reacts to your collective. you do not get to create such a space and get upset when people are hostile towards you. to tell someone to lower their voice and be 'less judgemental/accusatory' when they are attempting to express why your presence in the community is harmful is not the move that you think it is. i am allowed to be upset, i am allowed to be accusatory, and no, i will not sugar coat my words and take your hand and walk you through why what you are doing is wrong. furthermore, through my many posts and messages to YOU, i have explained WHY what you are doing is wrong. you have mentioned the importance of fostering an open dialogue, and i agree! however, how can that open dialogue exist when you ignore messages calling out what you are doing, when you block people from answering you, when it takes five days and many public posts to even get a response from you? we know you are active because you are posting ads and instructions on how to join. quite frankly, if we did not answer your post and make new ones last night, you would not have responded to me.

you have mentioned work of fiction such as the handmaid's tale and i agree with you! to rectify, it isn't the theme you are writing, but how you are writing it. my question to you is: have you read and watched the works you mentioned, or did you simply google for examples to throw?

here is why your collective is harmful and not comparable: first of all, you went out of your way to make your collective as immersive as possible, which honestly, would be fine if it didn't include a whole auction system where asian people get sold. you target a specific group of people and enforce that your writers only write faceclaims that are asian, which is entirely tone deaf and disrespecful considering (1) the history of the people you are writing and (2) the current social + political state of south korea and adjacent countries that will be represented in your collective. now, why are those topics harmful in your collective as opposed as a work of fiction such as the handmaid's tale? i will answer this with a question of my own: do you think, whole-heartedly, that people who engage in these topics will not write threads of masters sleeping with their servants (therefore, noncon and r!pe)? will they not write, in detail, how they buy someone, and the sick thoughts linked to such a horrible thing? do you think that your writers will truly remain respectful? do you think that the entirety of your collective KNOWS in depth what is happening in asia concerning human trafficking, sex slavery, and all sorts of things that you are writing? because unfortunately, when you write deep, triggering topics such as this one, you need to be educated. you need to know what has transpired in the past. you cannot compare yourself to margaret atwood, who dedicated her life to writing literature that calls out what you are romanticizing. what are the odds, between me and you, that the topics you claim to be so woke about will get fetishized and romanticized by people who. . . well. . . do find these topics romantic and hot to write about? you are using margaret atwood and her work to back the existence of your rp up, however, atwood has studied in order to write this. the handmaid's tale tackles topic such as racism, sexual assault, islamophobia, anti-native racism, anti-blackness, slavery, female genital mutilation, residential schools, forced assimiliation, and the holocaust. the handmaid's tale has been written to speak up on said issues and defend them: atwood created a narrative to bring light to these topics and explain, through the work of fiction, why they are wrong. you are just writing them to write them. you are just writing them because you think they are fun topics to write about - 'interesting' storylines to be explored. your writers engage in these tropes because they think they are fun to write - atwood did not write the handmaid's tale because she enjoyed slave x master trope. (was this informative enough? i really hope i wasn't too aggressive :((((( did i protect your feelings enough while writing this?)

quite frankly, i think that you just want a space to write disgusting plots and fetishize asian people, and you are now angry that people of colour are speaking out against it. you are angry because you thought you could ignore it and you thought people would move on but we aren't moving on. collective like yours are harmful and rooted in racism - even if it isn't your intent. at the end of the day, you are encouraging people to use real life faces to write slavery with a high chance of writing non-con/r!pe, and you are angry that outsiders find it wrong.

i find it wild, honestly, that in 2024, i have to sit and explain to someone why fetishizing and writing about slavery of asian people is wrong. it is also very sad, because your response really shows that you have not taken what we have been saying to you at all. instead of focusing how people engage with you, maybe take a second to educate yourself and try to understand where we, people of colour, are coming from!

[sparktober]

Sparktober Bingo 2024!

Almost in time for the first Sparktober Theme Day: Get A Bingo Card!

Our standby bingo-creation website is inactive this year, so I have cooked up a homebrew solution that will hopefully work smoothly and also satisfy the primal human urge to tick boxes.

How To Play Sparktober Bingo:

Get yourself a bingo card (instructions below & on the google sheet).

Create Sheppard/Weir fanworks of any kind (fic, art, edits, meta) related to your prompts. A single fanwork can fill as many prompts as you can fit in it.

Prompts this year are sourced from other 2024 'tober lists and some new dialogue prompt posts -- see the "credits" tab for links to all the sources. This year's center square is "completed WIP."

Use the prompts liberally! “The Long Goodbye” could be an episode-related fic or a fic about saying goodbye or inspiration for a Raymond Chandler-esque Noir Detective AU. Go wild!

Tag #sparktober to share your bingo card and creations!

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go. Spontaneously declare victory whenever you feel accomplished.

How To Get A Bingo Card:

Visit https://tinyurl.com/sparktoberbingo2024 with a web browser or the Google Sheets mobile app. All tabs have instructions on them.

The Automatic Bingo Card tab is easy mode. Check off which prompt categories you'd like to include, add your name in the yellow box, and generate a random card!

If you'd like to curate your selection manually, the Manual List Bingo tab has the full prompt list and lets you check/un-check individual prompts and even add new ones of your own. If you want to get even fancier than that, copy the whole document and have fun.

Want to make a card of your own to fit your WIPs or un-filled prompts from previous years? Type your own card on the Blank Template tab.

Screenshot the card to share it. You may need to zoom out in your browser or on mobile if the template is too big to capture on your screen.

Please close out of the browser tab when you're done, so other users don't worry that they will interfere with your changes.

Please let me know how it works, and upload your cards to tumblr and/or the Sparktober discord for all to enjoy!

If you have any issues or this sounds annoying, I'll pre-generate some cards and make a post for folks to pick from. Just let me know!

-mod @mylittleredgirl

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Google does it again!

I had to replace my phone a few weeks ago. I updated it yesterday.

Then I noticed that the "Wi-Fi" notification button is now "Internet". Meaning the process to turn on the Wi-Fi was;

1. Swipe down for the notifications. 2. Tap the Wi-Fi button. 3. Swipe out of the notifications.

now it's

1. Swipe down for the notifications. 2. Tap Internet. 3. Look at the dialogue box to be sure I'm not about to accidentally turn on my Mobile Data, which is in the same popup. 4. Tap Wifi. 5. Hit "Done", or swipe Back, or tap outside of the dialogue box. 6 Swipe out of the notifications.

Twice as many steps.

I basically never, ever use my data plan. Never. That's why I had it as a on page 2 of the notification buttons, so it would take two swipes before I could even hit the Data button.

So, how do I get the old one back? I can't. Not practically. Not without modifying my OS, and I still have trauma from rooting my first tablet. 

Google, of course, claims it's "simpler and more intuitive".

You know what's simple and intuitive? Tapping a button. Once. 

Google says there are people who turn off their Wifi so they can use data, and forget to turn it back on, but that's really a them problem.

And I say this as someone who once wasted most of a 20 quid top-up doing precisely that. 

That's what Data Saver is for.

Like Chrome's side panel button, this is yet another Google 'improvement' that makes things just a little worse.