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quinnylouhughesx43 · 1 month

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middle of the night - lh43

summary: in which luke and rutger’s twin sister have been dating for months and no one knows. now it’s summer and the siblings have joined them at the lake house

word count: 2.5k

warnings: fluff, angst(?), pet names, not edited so probably has grammar issues,

notes: i left my notes for after :)

In the cozy game room of the lake house, the clack of pool balls echoed against the wooden walls. The air had the scent of distinct masculinity from the four boys’ cologne mixed with sweat, mingling with the faint smoke tainted clothing from the fire that had been lit earlier in the evening. Luke leaned over the felt-covered table, eyeing the perfect shot, while Y/n sat on a barstool, sipping a lemonade and watching with a knowing smile. Jack urging his younger brother to hurry and get on with the game. Rutger, y/n’s twin brother, lounged on the plush couch, his gaze flicking between the game and his phone. Quinn accompanied him on the couch, but his attention was focused solely on his phone.

Y/n’s eyes remained glued to Luke as he took his shot, the muscles in his arms tensing and flexing. She felt the warmth of his presence and was lost in the familiar rhythm of their secret romance. The summer vacation had brought them closer than ever before, allowing them to cherish moments like these without the constant shadow of their college lives looming over them. As Luke sank the eight ball into the pocket with a triumphant grin, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for the boy she had come to love.

Attempting to stifle a yawn, she suggested, "Why don’t we all watch a movie to wind down?" The room fell silent for a moment before Jack chipped in and nodded, "Sounds like a plan. What’s everyone’s pick?" Rutger and Quinn perked up, eager to participate in the selection process. Luke’s eyes met hers, a silent agreement passing between them. They had spent countless nights cuddled together, watching movies in the dorm, whispering sweet nothings and sharing secrets that only lovers knew. Now, with the comfort of his family's lake house surrounding them, the intimacy of their stolen moments seemed all the more precious.

Quickly scanning the DVD collection, Y/n selected a classic rom-com, one she knew would be a safe choice for the group. She popped it into the player then turning around to see the only places to sit were either sharing with Jack or between her brother and Luke. She settled onto the couch between her brother and Luke, her heart palpitating with anticipation. The opening credits rolled, and as the movie began, the room filled with laughter from jokes Rutger and Jack continued to make. Y/n felt the tension ease between her and Luke dissipate as they sank into the familiar rhythm of shared laughter and quiet glances. It was a simple pleasure, one they hadn’t had the luxury of in a while when not behind closed doors.

As the film progressed, the room grew quieter. The only sounds were the occasional giggles from Y/n and the distant croak of frogs from outside the window. Quinn’s head had lolled back onto the armrest, mouth slightly ajar, and his eyes closed in sleep. Rutger’s eyes remained glued to the screen, but his eyelids grew heavier with each passing second. Y/n felt her own eyelids drooping, the comfort of the couch and the warmth of Luke’s presence beside her lulling her into a gentle doze. She didn’t even notice when the last scene played out and the credits began to roll. The only indication she had of the passing time was the gentle weight of Rutger’s arm as they slid under her legs and around her shoulders lifting her off the couch.

“Off to bed sis.” Rutger mumbled in his own tired state.

Over his shoulder, Luke and the other two sluggishly followed behind. Y/n’s sleep ridden and glossed over eyes met Luke’s and for a moment they were the only two in the house for the night.

Rutger kicked open the door to the guest room and gently placed her on the bed. The room was bathed in the soft moonlight that filtered through the blinds, casting a serene glow over the room. The bed sheets smelled faintly of fresh fabric softener and the faint scent of Luke’s cologne lingered in the air from when he had brought her suitcase up earlier. She felt safe, nestled between the comfort of her twin’s arms and the thought of Luke just outside her door.

As Rutger tucked her in, she mumbled a sleepy goodnight, her eyelids fluttering shut. He brushed her hair back before he kissed the top of her head, whispering, "Night, sis. Love you." His footsteps grew distant as he left the room, and she could hear the other boys bid their farewells and stumble to their own rooms. The house grew still, the only sounds the occasional creaks of the old floorboards settling and the rhythmic chirp of crickets outside.

Luke waited, anxiously and as if the word patient didn’t exist, until the darkness was absolute. He tiptoed across the hall, each step feeling like a mile. His hand hovered over the doorknob, and he took a deep breath, willing himself to be silent. He turned it gently, the door opening without a sound. He stepped into the room, his eyes falling right over to the bed where Y/n lay, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. Each time he looked at her he couldn’t believe she was his. He wanted to yell it from the roof of Yost. No from the top of the Empire State Building, but she was terrified of ruining relationships with her brother between Luke and him and herself and him.

He stepped closer, his bare feet making no sound on the cool wooden floor. The moon cast a silver path to her bed, and he followed it like a moth to a flame. He sat on the edge, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. His finger traced the curve of her jaw and the line of her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with a sleepy smile. She didn’t even question his presence, she just reached out making grabby hands for him. Luke took his place next to her and she immediately pulled him closer, her hand resting on his chest. He felt her breathing change, her heart rate slowed, as she snuggled into him, her head finding the crook of his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip, and held her tightly.

“Hi, baby.” Luke placed a kiss to her forehead. “I couldn’t sleep knowing you were right across the hall. I had to be able to hold you, kiss you, wake up next to you.” Luke pressed multiple kisses around her face before ending with a soft kiss to her lips.

“You’re going to get us caught, Luke.” She whispered but her words lacked any real warning. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him closer for a deeper kiss. They both knew the risks but the thrill of the secret just added to the allure.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. “We’re adults, Y/n. It’s just a kiss. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s up to hear us. Now, let’s get some sleep before we have to pretend to barely know each other tomorrow morning.”

With a sigh, she nodded and they lay there, the quiet of the night wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. The only sounds were their soft breaths mingling together, the chirping crickets, and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. The comfort of their shared silence grew deeper, the weight of their secret pressing down like a gentle lullaby.

As the night progressed, the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across their entwined forms. Luke’s thumb stroked gentle circles on Y/n’s back, her breathing evened out as she relaxed into his embrace. The warmth of their bodies seemed to push the coolness of the room away, creating a pocket of serenity that neither wanted to disturb.

But the peace was shattered when Y/n’s eyes snapped open, her body jolting with a scream that pierced the quiet of the night. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she thrashed about in the bed, lost in a nightmare she couldn’t escape. Luke’s arms tightened around her, trying to soothe her, but she pushed him away, her eyes wild with fear.

"No, no, no," she murmured, her voice frantic and trembling. Luke sat up, his own heart racing, and gently touched her shoulder. "Y/n, babygirl, it’s okay. It’s just a bad dream, you’re safe. You’re safe with me always."

Her eyes snapped open, and she took in the sight of him, the fear in her gaze slowly morphing into relief. The moon had traveled further across the sky, casting new patterns of light and shadow over their tangled forms. She took a deep, shuddering breath and reached out to him, her nails digging into his skin as she held onto him tightly. He held her trembling body against his firm strong body, her body heat drastically increased from fear against the coolness of the room.

“It’s okay, it’s just me. You’re safe here.” He whispered against her ear, his breath warm and soothing. He felt her body begin to relax as his words sank in, the tension slowly seeping out of her like water from a squeezed sponge.

But just as Luke’s heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm, the door to the room flew open with a bang, making them both jump. Rutger stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with concern, the light from the hallway spilling into the room and highlighting his features. He had clearly heard his sister’s distress and come to her aid. However, the scene that greeted him was not what he expected.

Y/n sat up in bed, her eyes red and puffy from the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. Rutger’s gaze flitted from her to Luke and back again, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched out like a tightrope, each second feeling like an eternity as they waited for him to speak.

"You okay, sis?" Rutger’s voice was gentle, belying the storm of emotions that had to be raging within him. He stepped into the room, his eyes searching hers for any signs of distress beyond the nightmare. - Silently communicating with her about the boy next to her. His close friend, his teammate, but at the moment his enemy.

Y/n nodded, her voice shaky. "It was just a bad dream." She didn’t dare look at Luke, the secret they’d been keeping from Rutger suddenly feeling like it was written across the room in flashing neon lights. Rutger’s eyes narrowed at her as he nodded.

“And you? Why are you in here?” Rutger asked dropping emphasis on the second you.

Luke swallowed hard. Unwrapping his arms from y/n, he sat up straight, the cold air of the room hitting him like a slap. “I heard her scream and I came to check on her.” He tried to keep his voice calm and even, but the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Rutger's eyebrows shot up, the tension in the room thickening. “Really?” He stepped closer to the bed, his gaze unwavering. “It’s just a little odd, don’t you think?”

Luke’s eyes darted to Y/n’s, the weight of their shared secret palpable between them. He knew he couldn’t lie to Rutger, not anymore. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I can’t lie to you, man. Y/n and I are together. We’ve been seeing each other since November.”

Rutger’s expression froze, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, no one said a word. Then, a chuckle escaped his lips, turning into a full-blown laugh. “You’re kidding, right? This is some kind of sick joke?” But the seriousness in Luke’s eyes told him it was no joke. The laughter died away, and the room grew tense again.

Y/n looked up at her brother, her eyes brimming with tears. She knew this moment had been inevitable, but she had hoped it would come under better circumstances. With a trembling voice, she said, “Rutger, it’s true. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We didn’t know how you’d react, and we didn’t want to ruin your all’s friendship or how close we are..”

Rutger’s laughter had turned into a scoff. He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. He looked at his teammate, then back at his sister, his jaw clenched. “You two are together?”

“Yes, Rutger.” Y/n’s voice was firm, her eyes never leaving brother’s .

Rutger’s gaze bore into Luke, his voice tight. “You better not be playing games with my sister, Luke. You know she’s had enough of that already.”

Luke’s face grew serious, his eyes searching Rutger’s for any hint of understanding. He took a deep breath, his heart racing as he gathered his thoughts. “I can’t believe you would even think that of me. I’m not playing games, Rutger. I love your sister. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. She’s my everything, and I’d do anything to make her happy. Before you even ask me, yes that includes keeping our relationship a secret from everyone for months on months. Even though I’d love to go out somewhere with hundreds of people and just scream that she’s mine. Not in a territorial way but an I love her way.”

Rutger only saw pure sincerity and a fierce protectiveness that matched his own feelings for his sister when he searched over Luke’s features.

Rutger looked at the two of them, his twin, so vulnerable and Luke, so earnest. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "If it has to be any of my friends, I’d rather it be you than any of the others." He paused, looking at them both, "But you guys have to promise me, you won’t let it affect our friendship, the group, or the team."

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest, she had been holding her breath without realizing it. "We promise," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Luke nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving Rutger’s. "We'll do everything we can to keep things normal. Now leave so I can celebratory kiss my boyfriend and go back to sleep." Y/n shoved at her brother.

Rutger rolled his eyes, but ultimately listened to her. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

notes: i really didn’t vibe with the prompt chosen after i started writing and i think you can tell in the writing - i will most likely be rewriting this but since the poll chose here we go. Thank you for reading, i appreciate all the love and support!

#cay writes #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #luke hughes x you #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x sister!reader #nj devils fic #nj devils fluff #nj devils #umich #umich fic #umich boys

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diabolikangel158 · 21 days

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Can you do the Vees x reader (separate) where they see you watching an edit of them and you start fangirling, despite already dating them? Thank you!

Alas, I’ve finished this post. Honestly wasn’t even to hard, I just got busy. I’ve got so much stuff I need to do and want to do, but no time to do it.

Vox x Reader, Velvette x Reader, Valentino x Reader (separate)

Disclaimer: Hints of unhealthy relationships, borderline stalking behaviors, some hints at abuse and anger issues, controlling behaviors from the Vees, suggestive content

Vox:

You lay quietly on your bed, scrolling through TikTok. You remember when you first arrived in Hell, you were simply relieved that there was technology at all, and even better, there was your beloved app. When you met and hit it off with the tech overlord himself, you were thrilled (almost as thrilled as Vox was with you). Vox had mentioned at some points that he was concerned with your “addiction” to the app, sometimes silently wondering if he had accidentally hypnotized you into being so enthralled with it. However, after a few random checks, he realized that it wasn’t his doing at all; you just really liked doom scrolling on there. In all honesty, he felt some kind of pride seeing you spend hours using his tech. Plus, it kept you busy while he was running around his company and discussing various things with other overlords.

You chuckled to yourself, repositioning your body to alleviate some of the stiffness you felt from reclining in the same posture for so long. You swiped up once more, your jaw dropping open. You had seen edits of other people before, whether they were famous actors, idols, and even fictional characters, but this was the first time you’d seen this. It was an edit alright, a sexy song playing in the background. However, there was no actor or idol, but your very own boyfriend, Vox. Vox, CEO of VoxTek, Vox.

A couple things ran though your mind as you watched it on repeat. Hey, it was a good edit. He would kill them if he ever found out who made this. Or would he? Maybe Vox would like this. You giggle a little at the thought. Of course he would like this. You may love Vox, but you’re not blind to how egotistical he can be at times. For all you know, he probably already had a folder titled “Me Edits” on his phone. You went ahead and liked the post, pressing the bookmark icon to save for… future use?

Of course, the TikTok algorithm figured you out pretty quickly. You continued to see and like more videos, finding a new way to pass time on the app. You were so enraptured, you didn’t notice Vox walk into the bedroom, slipping off his jacket with a yawn. He grumbled a small greeting to you, but you didn’t even notice that. Vox narrowed his eyes suspiciously; he was used to you being obsessed with your phone, but not so much that you’d even ignore him.

He pulled out his own phone, clicking on the app that he used to keep a close eye on you… for your safety of course. No other reason. He maneuvered to the section that allowed him to view what you were viewing on your phone live. What he found… surprised him to say the least. You were watching on repeat one of those TikTok edits of him that were floating around on the internet. He pressed a button on his phone to access your camera on your phone, viewing your expression. There was a light blush on your cheeks, and your eyes barely blinked, as though you were afraid that blinking would cause you to miss something important in the edit.

Vox’s screen displayed a toothy grin as he put his phone away in his pant’s pocket. He went over to you on the bed, leaning in behind you close to your ear. “Damn, doll, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is a whole new level. Even for me.” You whip your head around to look at him, losing the grip on your phone. Vox takes it in between two of his claws, holding it up. “Oh, so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with…” He pauses, turning the screen towards himself to view it. “Oh, yes, me.” He laughs a little.

You sat up in the bed, crossing your arms angrily. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t have a folder saved up for yourself, of yourself.” You spit back, trying your best to cover up your embarrassment with anger.

Vox simply smiled back at you. “Why? Want me to share the link with you?” He laughs some more, your attempt to embarrass him being brushed aside.

You groan in annoyance. Of course this whole situation was going to inflate his

ego even more than it already was.

Velvette:

Velvette walked through the halls of the Vee tower, making her way without even having to look up from her phone. She tapped her thumbs along the screen to update her various social medias, hitting the upload button with a grin as she arrived at your room.

Not bothering to knock or make her presence known in any kind of way, Velvette easily opened the room to find you laying in bed on your back, head resting on a pillow, with your phone raised above your face. Usually, you would have noticed her by now. She cocked out her hip in annoyance, placing one hand on it as the other still held onto her phone to the side. Velvette’s eyes narrowed when she noticed you grin dazedly at your phone, pop music blaring out from it on repeat.

Velvette gives you a couple more seconds before clearing her throat loudly. You finally notice her and in your surprise, let go of your phone that you had above your head and unceremoniously drop it on your face. You give a yelp in pain before quickly picking up your phone and trying to lock it. However, the pop music continued to play, and if one listened closely, someone was saying something over the music.

“And what’s got you so enthralled that you can’t even bother to greet your girlfriend when she walks in the room?” She huffs out, crossing her arms across her chest. She walks over to you and peers at your phone, which is locked but still playing the sound. “I know it’s a damn tik tok, since that insufferable music keeps–”

Velvette stops speaking as she is interrupted by…herself.

“Ugh. No! Unacceptable. You're fired. What is this? Wrist ruffles? Is it 1750? Burn it like the witches who wore it!" Again, the pop music ensues.

Velvette looks at you blankly, before a smirk tugs at her lips. “Are you… watching edits of me?” She can’t help the chuckle that slips out of her mouth. “Seriously? Open it up, let me see what you’ve been watching.”

You unlock your phone, ashamed, handing it to her. “To be fair, they’re pretty good edits, Vel.” She snatches your phone away and begins to watch the video. She watches it without much reaction and hands the device back to you. She says nothing for a moment. “Um… are you upset about it?”

Instead of answering, she opens her phone to an app, taking a picture of the both of you, not allowing you any time to prepare for it. “H-hey! You could warn me! I don’t even look good!”

Velvette rolls her eyes, typing a message on the photo, preparing to upload it. “Please, I’m your girlfriend. I make sure you look good all the time.” She gives you a snarky grin, finally uploading the image. You get a notification on your phone– you’ve been tagged in a post… Velvette’s post. You open it to look and find the picture that she had snapped of the two of you with the caption “If you don’t catch them watching edits of you in their freetime, do they really love you?” and of course, your username is tagged in it. Various comments already start rolling in about how cute you guys were as a couple, jealous comments about how envious they were of the relationship; the usual.

You look at her, your mouth agape. “Did you really have to put me on blast like that?”

Velvette looks rather satisfied with herself, giving you a shrug. “Anyways, save your little edits for later, the car is ready for us.” You sigh as you get up to follow her.

Valentino:

You honestly weren’t surprised that Valentino had fans that made edits of him and posted them on social media. Let’s be honest, if you had the talent for editing, you’d probably be one of those fans. If you found anything surprising, it was the fact that there were so many that weren’t raunchy. Of course, you supposed, that if someone wanted to see something raunchy about him, they’d have to pay a subscription fee. Surely, there were videos of him in his prime somewhere.

You scrolled through, finding some sort of joy in the fun videos, even adding some of the music that the users had chosen to your playlists. You rolled over onto your stomach and continued scrolling. So enthralled you were with the silly videos, that you were only brought out of your stupor upon feeling a light, yet confident touch on the back of your thigh. “Hey amorcito… and just what are you looking at on your phone, hm?”

Your eyes widened and you quickly turned your phone face down, craning your neck to look back at him. You didn’t expect that he would be back so soon. “Oh, Val! I thought you said you had a long shoot today and wouldn’t be back ‘till later?!” The words come out too rushed to be considered “normal.”

Valentino tilted his head to the side. “What? Did you not miss me? Or do you just enjoy being alone nowadays?” He gives you a fake pout. “Don’t tell me that’s the case, amorcito. You’re going to make me upset…” The tone in his voice held a slight edge to it; the production from today must have pissed him off and so he cut early for him to flip this quickly. You were used to his short temper, but ordinarily you’d have at least a little leeway.

“Of course I missed you!” You reassured quickly. You sat up in the bed, crossing your legs together and looking at him with what you hope is a “Valentino-can’t-be-mad-at-me-like-this” look. Fortunately for you, he gives you a grin and pats your head, sitting down next to you.

“Well, don’t be shy, let me see what you were looking at, hm?” Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and Val doesn’t miss a beat. He leans in to peer at you closely. “Don’t tell me you were watching naughty films… and without me! I’m hurt, amorcito.” Before you can explain that you definitely were not doing that, Valentino snatches the phone you left unguarded and unlocked on the bed with one of his arms. You start to protest, but quiet down when one of his hands holds a finger up at you, a silent command to shut your mouth.

You’re not sure what you expect from him when he sees it. Maybe to make fun of you, call you touch-starved, obsessed, a lost puppy perhaps? Can’t even be away from me for a second? You’re so pathetic it’s cute. You grimace in your head at the thought of such degradation to your person.

Needless to say, you’re surprised when Valentino squishes your cheeks with one hand, gripping your face hard to pull you close. You lips pucker due to the force and you couldn’t mumble out a preemptive apology even if you tried. Only muffled sounds would come out. “Amorcito, you’re so cute! You know, I was ready to be so angry with you for trying to hide things from me, but this is just adorable! Was my baby scared that I would embarrass them?” You nod as much as his grip on your cheeks will allow. He snickers and lets the hand on your face fall to your neck, softly grabbing ahold of it. Valentino kisses you, hard. It’s honestly rather messy, not that kisses with him were ever chaste by any means. It leaves you gasping for breath.

Val locks your phone, gently placing it on the bedside table. It’s a kind gesture if you’ve ever seen one from him. Vox loves to complain to you about how many phones Val has shattered in his fits of rage or moments of carelessness. Val lies down besides you, pulling him close to him. “You’re too good to me, carino. So, I’ll be good to you, too.” You feel one of his hands sneaking in between your legs as the other three busy themselves with removing some of your clothing. “After all, why bother with those silly videos when you have the real thing right here?” He flashes you a salacious grin before you close your eyes to endure the pleasure that you’ll be succumbing to… whether you want to or not.

#hazbin hotel #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #the vees #val x reader #valentino x reader #val #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin velvette

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if-whats-new · 3 months

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What's New In IF? Issue 10 (2024)

By Erika, Marjorie, Axelle, and Noi

Now Available!

Itch.io. - Keep Reading below

Due to Internal things, the June and July issues will only update on events and games. We hope to resume regular activities and include more pages by August. Note: while Axelle is mentioned, they are currently on a break.

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : NEO-TWINY JAM ~

Happening every June, the Neo-Twiny Jam is a jam with a simple restriction: you are only allowed 500 words to create a game!

Even though the wordcount is tiny, it is still larger than the one given by Porpentine's original and pivotal 2015 jam, the Twiny Jam.

With 200 more words (still excl. code and non-story screens), and the possibility of using any program (not just Twine), the jam is meant as a commemoration of Porpentine's influence.

Not just looking to make people think creatively about the restriction, the Neo-Twiny Jam is using its platform to raise money for charity!

Every submitted entry (up to 3 per creator) is matched for a donation to TransEquality, an LBGTQ+ organisation.

If you have 500 words in your IF pocket, come and submit it for a good cause! From kinetic to parser, experimental to conventional, and even visual novels, the Neo-Twiny Jam accepts all IF! The organisers are also looking for donors (matching or set donation). @neo-twiny-jam/@neointeractives

Looking for inspiration? Check out last edition!

~ CONFERENCE ~

The registration for the Narrascope ended last week, as the talks are currently happening. If you didn't manage to snatch an ticket, don't worry, they will be uploaded on YouTube down the line.

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

The Rayuela (Spanish IFComp) is also still in their voting period. If you are Spanish speaking, come support the entries!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Only a week left to submit to the ParserComp! Whether it's classic or more experimental, there is still time to submit a parser!

If you are looking to make a Visual Novel, the Otome Jam will be looking for entries until July 1st. There is also the Josei jam running parallel to it.

While it is not IF-focused, the Anti-Romance Jam is once again looking for anti-romance submissions!

Love/Violence is another unranked game jam looking for entries dealing with Love and Violence and all the things in between (also accepts non IF)

Only a week left to register an intent to participate in the IntroComp, a yearly competition where you can submit unreleased WIP and compete for cash prize… if you finish the game within a year!

From now until the start of July, you can participate in the Fix the Worst Visual Novels Jam.

Can you write something in French? Or use Google Translate? The annual Nouvim3000 is an unranked francophone IF jam where you need to write between 500 and 3k words. This year's theme is “INCOMBUSTIBLE”.

~ ENDED ~

The Narrascope Jam has also ended this week, with 6 entries. Check them out here! They will be played at the conference too!

While the RAFFLE FOR PALESTINE has closed their ticket submission (the winners being contacted shortly), you can still help donate and boost GSM!

~ OTHER ~

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

We didn't find new fully released game outside of jams and competitions. So you should check the events mentioned in previous pages!

There were a lot of really cool games!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Court of the Gilded Roses (CScript) is a harem court intrigue project inpired by the Sassanid dynasty and Persian mythology. @crazerk

Where We End (Twine) is a dark fantasy project, a prequel to To Death, I Embrace. @to-death-i-embrace

Brain Death - An Oracle’s End (CScript) is a sci-fi psychological horror project where you play as an Oracle.

Dark Justice (CScript) is superhero project where you play as a vigilante.

9.1.1. (Twine) is a romance medical drama.

~ GAMES UPDATES ~

As Gods Fall (CScript) has updated their Patreon demo build. @asgodsfall-if

The Night Market (Twine)'s last update is now available to all. @night-market-if

Drink Your Villain Juice (CScript) has completed Chapter 6 for the Patreon demo. @drinkyourvillainjuice

College Tennis: Origin Story (CScript) has updated the Ko-Fi demo again, as well as the Public one. @collegetennisoriginstory

The Operative (CScript) has updated the Public demo and looking for beta testers for the next update. @theoperativeif

Meteoric (CScript) has added Chapter 3 to the demo.

The Ultimate Magic Student (CScript) updated the demo on Patreon.

Thicker Than (CScript) updated the demo with new scenes for Chapter 10. @barbwritesstuff

Last Dream (CScript) is now complete. The game will be available until CoG approval.

Saturnine (CScript)'s demo received a short update.

Dawn of Heroes (CScript) added Chapter 24 to the demo.

~ OTHER ~

The Queer Games Bundle (@queergamesbundle) is live on itch.io. Support a bunch of queer creators (including Interactive Fiction authors!) by purchasing the bundle!

The new edition of the Choicebeat zine has been released this week. Check it out here!

Twine game makers beware: Twine updated for the new version of Chapbook.

We apologize if we missed an update or a release. We are but volunteers trying to find as much info as possible, but sometimes news pass through the cracks.

Please, let us know if something should have been added to the zine, and we will shout it out next week!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 10

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katy-133 · 2 months

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How Do Spy's Disguises Really Work? [TF2 Lore]

This is NOT a tutorial nor guide on how to use disguises in the game. This is a Team Fortress 2 essay about Spy's ability to disguise, how it works in-universe, and some implications we can deduce through it.

(This essay contains spoilers for the TF2 comics Old Wounds and The Naked and the Dead, and the Valve animation, Meet the Spy.)

Note: As of the time of writing, issue 7 of the comics has not been released.

Point 1) The Disguise Kit's Backstory

The Spytron 3000 is the personal device assistant Spy uses to disguise as the other 8 mercs. This name is listed in TF2's official website's page for Spy, while in-game, it's named as the Disguise Kit in your inventory. We also see the name Spytron 3000 printed on the model in-game.

The Disguise Kit is made to look like a cigarette case, and Spy keeps his cigarettes in it. Evidence that Spy smokes cigs kept in this case is seen in Meet the Spy, Expiration Date (seen pulling a cigarette out of it), and in-game (when you Taunt while holding the Disguise Kit, and animation can play of Spy smoking and flicking the cig away).

(Image: Meet the Spy)

(Image: Expiration Date)

The Sniper Vs Spy Update gives us this image, which is a catalogue advertising spy gadgets, with (assumedly) Spy circling the gadgets he wants to order.

(Image: Sniper Vs Spy Update)

The Dead Ringer (pocket watch) and the Cloak and Dagger (wristwatch) are items Spy can use in-game.

Another section on the same image shows Spy's catalogue order:

The Disguise kit doesn't appear here, but this image implies that the Disguise Kit came from the same manufacturer. This is significant, because it means that the Disguise Kit is something that Spy didn't make himself, and therefore has to rely on someone else for the Disguise Kit to provide what he needs from it (as he may not be able to edit or change the way the Disguise Kit works by himself). Keep this in mind going forward.

Point 2) How the Enemy Sees Disguises

In-game, enemy players see disguised Spies as whichever merc they are disguised as, from whichever team (as you can also disguise as one of your own teammates to fool the enemy). Enemy buildings (Sentry Turrets, Dispensers, and Teleporters) are fooled by this disguise.

In-game, as disguises are being activated, you can see smoke appear around an Enemy spy disguising. Remember that for later.

(Image: Weapon Demonstration: Disguise Kit, OfficialTF2Wiki, YouTube)

But what about outside of the game? In the comics, we see Classic BLU Spy (from Team Fortress 1) disguised as RED Heavy. The disguise is so flawless, it fools everyone. When he undisguises, there's a smoke effect.

(Image: Old Wounds, TF2 comics)

What about the animated shorts? Meet the Spy is the only example where we see a Spy use disguises in a Valve animation. In this example, a RED Spy is fighting a BLU Medic alone and Spy shapeshifts into Medic.

(Gif: Meet the Spy)

We see the following details in this scene:

Rows of red stripes of light appear over Spy.

Heat distortion (also called a mirage).

Smoke appear around Spy.

Spy's face changes into Medic's.

Let's break this down step by step.

I think we can infer that the stripes of light are red because it's a RED Spy disguising. This means that if a BLU Spy disguises, the stripes would be blue.

The heat distortion (the wiggly lines of air you see when you're looking past hot air) implies that there's some sort of release of heat that happens when Spy disguises. Another word for this is a mirage effect. Mirages are associated with illusions and being deceived.

The smoke implies something is burned when Spy disguises. It also adds significance to the Disguise Kit being disguised as a cigarette case (smoke = lighting a cigarette).

Then Spy's face changes to Medic's. It happens less like a morph and more like a liquid (or layer of a soft material) covering over Spy.

So the takeaway is that Spy's Disguise Kit allows Spy to look exactly like another merc, through some sort of process that involves extreme heat creating a cover over Spy. What is this heat and why does it change Spy's appearance?

In-universe, the technical mechanics behind Spy's shapeshifter effect are left vague. But we can look to another Valve game for inspiration to finding a possible explanation: Portal 2.

Poral 2 includes a technology described as hard light. They are used to create bridges in the game. Touching them is described as feeling "like standing outside with the sun shining on your face. It would also set your hair on fire," (according to GLaDOS). It is made from natural sunlight.

(Image: Hard light bridge in portal 2. Image from the Half-Life Fandom Wiki)

My theory is this: I think Spy's disguises are created using holograms that work in a similar way to hard light bridges in Portal 2. It is light bending around Spy, changing his appearance, feeling solid, and creating intense heat to form and unform.

Point 3) How Teammates See Disguises

In-game, teammates see disguised Spies wearing paper masks with an image of the merc they are disguised as.

(Images: Team Fortress 2 Official Wiki)

Why is this? How does this work? How does the Disguise Kit even produce the mask? Does it print it out? What is the smoke for?

Team Fortress 2's developer commentary includes this insight by lead designer Robin Walker:

"With nine classes of characters, and so many weapons and unique abilities, one of our biggest challenges was exposing all these combinations to players without overwhelming them. […] We tried to avoid attaching 2D elements to the HUD as much as possible, since we wanted players to be looking at the 3D world we'd built rather than some abstract representation. For example, players always see their own team's spies as a spy, but they need to know how the spy is disguised to the other team. We tried a quick hack where we put an icon representing the spy's current disguise floating above his head. The icon proved baffling to playtesters. When we tackled the problem by putting cut-out paper masks on the spy, it not only fit the humorous style of the game, but it let players get all pertinent information directly from a quick look at the spy's model, thus keeping them focused on the characters and on the action of the game." —Robin Walker, Hydro Map Developer Commentary

This is practical, because it stops teammates from trying to attack their fellow teammates whilst also being able to see what class (merc) the Spy is disguised as. Even teammate Sentries are not fooled by your disguise, and won't fire at you.

This is a play on an old trope in storytelling where a character is wearing a disguise that obvious to the audience, but fools the fictional characters. This prevents the audience from getting confused or fooled themselves. The TV Tropes dot org article for this is called Paper-Thin Disguise, making Spy's masks really on-the-nose in a funny way.

So can all teammates automatically see through disguises if the Spy is on their team? In-game, it appears so. What about outside of the game?

In the TF2 comics, we see just the smoke effect used. We never see Spy wearing a paper mask at any point in the TF2 comics. Nor in any of the Valve animations.

In The Naked and the Dead, Spy disguises himself as Tom Jones, which fools Scout. When his disguise vanishes, he emits smoke.

(Image: The Naked and the Dead, TF2 comics)

This is interesting because they are both RED teammates, but Spy was still able to fool Scout. This indicates that Spy can choose to have his disguises fool his teammates.

A Detour About Quantum Leap

Let's talk about Quantum Leap. It's a 1989 time travelling series about a man (Sam) who, through a sci-fi mishap, leaps into the life of another person each episode. Sam is always played by the same actor (Scott Bakula), but when he is seen in mirrors, we see another actor in his place. This other actor is how everyone else (the other characters) actually see him:

Scott Bakula as Sam pictured screen-left in both images, looking at his reflection.

(Images: Quantum Leap, 1989)

How does this work? The actor always being Scott Bakula is for the benefit of the audience. He is the main character in a revolving door of different settings, plotlines, and time periods. He is the anchor of the show that unifies episodes, and that's comforting for the viewer. It's non-diegetic.

Diegetic refers to an element in fiction that exists in-universe of the story and is able to be perceived by the characters. It's the soundtrack if the characters complain that it's too loud. It's the camera if they bump into it. It's meta.

So non-diegetic is something that doesn't exist in-universe and is perceived by the audience but not the characters. It's the title of the movie overlaying the screen without the characters commenting on it. It's a stage musical swapping set pieces as the characters talk and don't notice. It's for the benefit of the audience. It values encapsulating a feeling of something, over how something literally is. It's vibes.

Aside from the Quantum Leap example, there are other works of fiction that have done this type of visual style of using multiple actors for mirror reflections. Another example that springs to mind is the 2011 sci-fi film Source Code. In the film, the main character has to re-live a time loop whilst in the body of another passenger on a train in order to figure out which passenger left an explosive on it.

So in Quantum Leap, Sam still feels like himself (and is thus shown that way to the audience), but is actually projecting an "illusion of [the person's] physical aura" (Sam's words) through sci-fi tech that makes everyone around him see the person he's "leaped" into, instead of him.

Why am I talking about Quantum Leap? I think something similar happens when we see Spy disguised in-game.

The paper face masks are for the benefit of the audience. They don't exist to any of the characters.

Point 4) How Spy Sees Himself Disguised

In-game, he sees himself as himself. If you're playing Spy disguised, you see his (undisguised) hands and the weapon he's holding.

You also see a little portrait of the merc he's disguised as (at the bottom-left corner), so you (as Spy) still know how you appear as to enemies.

So Spy perceives himself as himself. He doesn't see his own body as changed.

Point 5) How Voices Work

When Spy is disguised, he also gains the voice of whoever he's disguised as.

In Meet the Spy, Spy disguised as Medic doesn't speak, so we don't get an example of this in any of the Valve animations.

In the comics (issue 5, Old Wounds), Classic Spy speaks as RED Heavy, and fools RED Spy, so we can assume Classic Spy was imitating Heavy's voice (as the webcomics, while they include scripted panel changes, don't include audio).

In-game, when you're disguised, all voice lines switch to the merc you are disguised as. If you call for Medic, you yell as the merc you are disguised as, etc.

This leads to two theories:

a) Spy can imitate voices himself and therefore can imitate voices while not disguised (example: He's on the telephone, he could imitate voices before he joined RED/BLU and can do it without the Disguise Kit)

b) Spy is only able to imitate voices using the Disguise Kit and can't imitate voices without it.

Both possibilities lead to interesting potential plot ideas.

It's worth noting that while on fire, Spy will still sound like the merc he is disguised as. This leads me to deduce that it's the Disguise Kit, as why would Spy bother to maintain the voice impression? He's already been caught and he's possibly about to die.

Point 6) How Spy Undisguises

If Spy's disguises by using technology, how how does he "turn it off"?

There appears to be two ways: Unintentionally or intentionally.

Unintentional examples would include getting hit with Sniper's Jarate in-game. It's like the liquid somehow disrupts or "short circuits" the disguise. Another example would be Spy getting shot while disguised in The Naked and the Dead comic, which seems more like an emotional/psychological/physical response (in this case, pain).

Intentional examples include trying to attack in-game, which instantly undisguises you as Spy. And Spy's disguise fading away after fooling Scout with it in Naked and the Dead. He doesn't say anything or make a motion, he appears to simply will the disguise away.

So it may be that Spy has some sort of "connection" with the Disguise Kit that lets it detect his intentions.

Point 7) Is This Body Swapping?

So when Spy is disguised, is he actually in a copy of the body of the merc he's disguised as? If so, there's multiple implications:

Does he need glasses when he's Medic?

Does he no longer have a right hand when he's Engineer?

Does he lose an eye as Demoman?

How does the clothing swapping work? Can he remove clothing, or would it cease to exist if it travels too far from his body/the Disguise Kit's influence?

There's multiple counter arguments suggesting that this is not the case and Spy is not body swapping:

Spy can switch weapon items of the other merc when he's disguised by switching to his other items (and pressing B).

If Spy was actually using Medic's real glasses, that would presumably mess with his vision. And Spy has no visible issues with his vision.

Spy can't run as fast as Scout, nor double jump, so he doesn't gain Scout's physical capabilities.

As mentioned in Point 4 earlier, Spy sees himself as himself. His body doesn't change from his own POV.

In the comics, when Spy is shot in the leg while disguised, he keeps the same injury afterwards. The person who he was disguised as was Classic Engineer. Who has metal prosthetic legs. And therefore wouldn't get injured from a shot in the leg at all.

(Image: The Naked and the Dead, TF2 comics)

In Meet the Spy, Spy's missing Medic's glasses when he shapeshifts into Medic, but that may have been done to make the scene cooler (he steals Medic's glasses after defeating him).

(Image: Meet the Spy)

Spies also can't use weapons of the merc they are disguising as. Attacking instantly undisguises the Spy. This implies that the new weapons Spy holds when he is disguised are the same weapon with an illusion cast over it, not a weapon swap.

It not being body swapping also opens the door to the potential that Spy can disguise as a person who doesn't exist, allowing him to create an entirely new persona.

Point 8) Spy-Checking In Game

In fiction, shapeshifters often have a "tell" of some sort, where they can't quite perfectly mirror the individual they've shapeshifted as. On TV Tropes org, it's called "Glamour Failure," in reference to glamour, an archaic term used in mythology for a type of beauty spell, or a spell to make the shapeshifter appear human. Common glamour failure examples in fiction include the shapeshifter's eyes being the wrong colour, or their reflection revealing their true form.

(Gif: The Little Mermaid, 1989)

Does Spy have a tell? Well, in Meet the Spy, the audience is surprised by Scout being the Spy. He looks like Scout, sounds like Scout, and acts like Scout. What makes the audience twig on that it's not Scout is when he does a trick with Spy's balisong (knife). Scout wouldn't do a knife trick with a balisong.

And I think that's illustrative to how you can detect a disguised Spy in the game. It's (in part) spotting a teammate acting oddly. Medic running around not healing anyone, that sort of thing.

Other ways to Spy check in the game (but not limited to) are:

You can't walk through enemy Spies like you can with teammates.

Teammate attacks don't hurt teammate Spies.

Sniper's Jarate instantly ruins an enemy Spy's disguise if it splashes on him.

Spy mimics the speed of the merc he's disguised as, but can't run as fast as Scout.

The speed difference between Scout and Spy is notable. Is the Disguise Kit making Spy slow down, or is the speed change just Spy trying to act more like the merc he's imitating? Could he run faster if he needed to? It's unclear.

There are also in-game support-type effects that affect disguised Spies differently:

Teammate's Sentries will always be friendly to disguised Spies. Enemy Sentries will fire at Spies unless they are disguised.

Medic's crossbow heals teammates and hurts enemies. It hurts disguised enemy Spies.

When Soldiers activate a banner, nearby teammates that do not emit a glow are disguised enemy Spies.

If Spy is disguised as an Engineer with a Beep Boy cosmetic, it will always appear with a sad expression, instead of happy with various emotions.

(Image: A Beep Boy with a sad, pained expression)

This means that some forms of technology are fooled by Spy's disguises, but others are not.

This raises the question of whether Spy's disguises can sometimes/always be seen-through by animals. Maybe the dove Archimedes isn't fooled by disguises?

Related to glamour failure, there is a trope in fiction where dogs, cats, pets, etc. are not fooled by disguises because they can sense the morality of the person in a way that humans can't, or because they know their human so well. (The TV Tropes article for it is titled, Evil-Detecting Dog.)

Point 9) Other Characters/Things Using Disguises

Can other characters who are not Spy use the disguise kit? What is stopping them?

Aristotle is a raven Spy has on his shoulder as a cosmetic (an item you can wear in the game). This raven is wearing a tiny paper mask with an image of Archimedes (Medic's dove) printed on it. This implies that other characters are perceiving Aristotle as Archimedes, which is very funny. This also means that other characters can use disguises. It's just that Spy is the one who uses the Disguise Kit, as it's part of his job.

(Images: Aristotle, left. The Counterfeit Billycock.)

The Counterfeit Billycock is an in-game hat disguised as another hat. This being an example of objects using disguises.

This also infers that inversely, Spy can use disguises to appear as an animal or an inanimate object. We just haven't seen him do that yet.

This leads us to...

Point 10) A Note on the Disguise Kit's Interface

In-game, a screen overlay appears when you select Spy's Disguise Kit. This shows the different merc disguise options, but it's for the benefit of the player. It's not what Spy sees in-universe.

What Spy sees is what's behind this overlay: His Disguise Kit being opened. As written earlier, it's made to look like a cigarette case on the outside. The inside of the case includes a screen and three buttons below it. I interpret the interface as a screen displaying portraits of different mercs, with the two yellow buttons being left/right keys, and the red button (or blue button for the BLU Spy in Meet the Spy) being the select key.

(Image: Meet the Spy)

So we can come to the deduction that what stops Spy from disguising himself as someone other than the mercs is the same reason we can't in-game: He isn't given the option in the interface. Not that he has the option, but he chooses not to. Or doesn't think to do it. Or a situation hasn't come up where doing so would be useful.

This doesn't explain how Spy was able to disguise himself as Tom Jones, but maybe the option was given to him at some point near the start of the comic series.

If only Spy were given upgrades to his Disguise Kit for plot reasons, hmm...

Point 11) Applying Canon to Fan Works

So with all this canon information, we can take this knowledge and apply it to fan works to create something new. This includes fan fiction, animations, webcomics, etc.

So let's start asking questions. In the restrictions of established canon, can Spy…

Disguise as another character, such as Saxton Hale, Miss Pauling, or the Administrator?

Can Spy disguise as an animal, such as Archimedes?

Can Spy disguise as an inanimate object? … without contravening canon?

Spy Disguising as Saxton Hale, Miss Pauling, and the Administrator

(Image: Jungle Inferno)

Saxton Hale is not one of the mercs (he's the owner of MANN CO., which RED/BLU get their weapons and hats from) and is much larger than Spy. Maybe Spy can't disguise himself as non-mercs? Again, size does not appear to stop Spy from disguising as Heavy, and Spy has canonically disguised himself as Tom Jones, who is not a merc. So in theory, Spy could disguise as Saxton Hale.

(Image: Meet the Director comic)

Miss Pauling and the Administrator bring up the question of whether or not the Disguise Kit allows the user to disguise as someone of a different gender. Spy's teammates are men, with Pyro's gender being unknown. So Spy disguising as another gender does not contradict canon, it's just unknown if he canonically has done so already.

(Image: Expiration Date)

While not a disguise, we do have official Valve art of Spy wearing the gold/blue "colour illusion" dress (the original dress being designed and manufactured by Roman Originals) in celebration of Steam's 20th Anniversary.

While wearing a dress is not the same as shapeshifting into a woman, this illustrates that Spy has not been stopped by gender expectations of the 1960s from presenting himself more femininely.

(Image: Steam's 20th Anniversary. Art by Claire Hummel)

So the thing stopping Spy from disguising as Saxton Hale, Miss Pauling, or the Administrator would not be because the Disguise Kit is incapable of ever doing so, but because the kit doesn't provide those options, out of the company's benefit. Remember back in Point 1 that the Spytron 3000 is an (unknown) company's invention that was shipped to Spy? It would not be in TF2 Industries' interest to give a merc the ability to disguise as one of their bosses or boss's assistants. It would be a infiltration liability waiting to happen.

Spy Disguising as Animals

This once again falls into the realm of size not stopping Spy from disguising as something, just in the opposite direction. Spy can disguise as Engineer and other mercs shorter than Spy.

Is there a limit to how small? Can Spy disguise as a mouse? A Spycrab? Again, it's just unknown if he can because hasn't happened in the canon.

(Image: Spycrab cosmetic)

Spy Disguising as Inanimate Objects

There's a reoccurring joke I've seen in different fan works of Spy disguising as a lamp by wearing a mask that has an image of a lamp printed on it. I saw it enough times that I had assumed it was from canon, but I couldn't find a canon example of it anywhere. I'm unsure of its original origin in fan works, but it has since been embraced by the fandom.

Another example of a fan work letting Spy disguise himself as an object is Fortress Film's (the creators of Emesis Blue) fan film, Spy's Disguise. In this 28 minute animated film, Spy figures out how to disguise himself as a sentry gun.

(Gif: Spy's Disguise by Fortress Films, YouTube)

12) Conclusion: So How Do Disguises Actually Work?

In conclusion, Spy's disguises can be interpreted as a smokey aura or hologram that surrounds Spy through a piece of tech known as the Spytron 3000.

It is a perfect visual and audio disguise to all the mercs, both for teammates and enemies. We see Spy's paper mask for the benefit of the audience and is possibly non-diegetic (metaphorical and not existing in-universe). The paper masks are not seen by any of the mercs, teammate or otherwise.

A teammate Spy can choose to allow teammates (and possibly enemies) see through this aura, whilst still knowing that the Spy is disguised, and who he is disguised as.

Nevertheless, part of the fun of fan works is that they can deviate from canon. Want Spy to body swap? Yes! Want Spy to be able to remain disguised while attacking someone in a fight? The power is yours.

Fan work is universes within universes.

#tumblr won't let me add links sorry #essay #team fortess 2 #tf2 #my text #storytelling #tropes #quantum leap #portal #emesis blue #long post #the little mermaid

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

Text

—reading glasses

SUMMARY | schlatt might not seem like the guy to help you with your insomnia, but sometimes an act of kindness can come from where you least expect

PAIRING | cc!schlatt x reader

REQUESTED | no

WORD COUNT | 1.6k+

WARNINGS | none

AUTHORS NOTES | id like this to happen to me irl please and thank you <3

🧢 Masterlist 🧢 Navigation 🧢 Rules 🧢

If there was one thing you knew, it was that insomnia was a bitch.

Sleep had always ben unkind to you. Sprouting up and disappearing just when you had gotten settled in for the night. Lingering like a poisonous mist before bleeding into your morning routine when you would have to be at your sharpest. And most certainly plaguing you at the most unfortunate of times—like during the middle of an important lecture for exams. Or the one time when you had gotten up at night to use the bathroom, only to find yourself still on the toilet come morning with numb legs and a sore back.

But it seemed tonight that sleep was the one thing you wouldn't be getting a lick of—if the dark circles under your eyes weren't already proof enough.

"Jesus Christ toots." Was the first thing Schlatt said when you lumbered into the living room, looking like an extra from the set of The Walking Dead. His ide eyes and parted lips told you nothing new, just that you were as tired looking as you felt.

"Carful. Not in front of the cutout. What would Pope Francis say?" Your joke hit about as hard as a feather to the arms, humor missing Schlatt by a mile as he cringed while taking in your current state.

Said man had been reading a book before you so graciously entered the room, only setting it down once he had heard the shuffling of feet against carpet.

"It's one in the morning dude. Didn't you say you were going to bed like five hours ago." He poked his tounge around inside his mouth, eyes softening a bit while looking at you.

"I did say no promises." You flopped on the couch parralel to him while referring back to the last conversation you had had with the brunette. Where, indeed, you had responded with 'no promises' to the call of you to get some rest.

"So, what. Did you just sit in there doing nothing?"

"I mean, Jambo came in at one point and slapped my face a few times before leaving. If that counts."

"No. No, my bastard of a cat terrorizing you does not count." He ran a hand through his hair with a cackle, scrunching his eyes up at the lopsided smile you tossed his way.

As more seconds ticked by, you could feel exhaustion practically seeping into your bones like a weird form of gray matter. But it never seemed to sink it roots into you, the feeling always clearing up for a few minutes before appearing again with twice as much intensity. Rinse and repeat for a couple of nights and you had yourself some good old fashioned sleep issues.

"Fuck, you look dead on your feet." Schlatt's hands found a home in his pant pockets, bundling up the fabric while swaying back and fourth on his heels. "Do you want to uhm, stay out here for a bit? I could turn the light on for you."

A breathy laugh made its way out of your lips. As dead beat as you were, it was heartwarming to see his attempt to make you feel better. It was a softer side of him you rarely got to see, so you'd treasure every moment.

"No need big man." Your arms reached for the skies in an attempt to soothe the ache between your shoulder blades. "I'll pass out eventually. I just have to hope it isn't in the shower again."

"Sure there isn't anything I can do? I've spent one too many nights of my life pulling all nighters editing videos, or god forbid—" He shuddered dramatically. "—playing five nights at freddys."

A joking response was halfway out of your mouth before you suddenly stopped, brows dipping with consideration as you actually considered his offer for a moment.

"Yeah, you could do something for me actually."

"Really? Becuase you know how people say things to be nice but don't really mean it?"

One deappan look at the foul mouthed man had him shutting up, a small grin staying despite your efforts to burn holes into his head.

"What were you reading before I got in?" You asked with a clearing of your throat, shuffling around on the couch to sit up straighter.

Schlatt seemed confused at the sudden turn in conversation. But he reached for the paperback he had tossed down at your arrival, holding the front up for you to see.

"It's upside down genuis."

"Shut the fuck up I knew that."

He flipped it back round to a legible position, his turn to scowl at your bemused grin.

"Seriously?" Small giggles filled the room as you read the title as clearly as you could in your sleepy state. "Business 101 for beginners? Committing to the bit I see."

"You forget I'm planning to buy Gamer Supps this year. Gotta lock and load the old noggin with the proper information." He paused to blow out a resigned sigh. "And I realize that the last sentence made me sound like a fucking boomer."

"All the greatest businessmen are Schlagg, my boy. But they're also heartless asshole that's probably get off on watching landlord's raise rent." You were straight up rambling from the lack of rest at this point and you both knew it. But to be honest Schlatt didn't really care. He was probably one of the only people able to keep up with your antics, one of the reasons you appreciated him so much.

"Who says I dont either?" Schlatt joked, watching as you rolled your eyes.

"You only jerk off to men. We all know that. Besides, would a heartless asshole offer to read to me until I fall asleep?"

"I am?" His voice rose at the question.

"Yes. Yes you arem"

Schlatt noticed his blunder as soon as a tired, but still annoyingly smug, smirk made its was across your face.

"You know you could have just asked me instead of twisting my words. And taking some hits to my ego." He scoffed in fake frustration. But your grin of victory widened as he picked up the book and began to flip back to the page he had previously left on.

"Well that's not as fun is it. Besides—" You swiftly moved couches to throw yourself down smack dab across from Schlatt, the latter barely looking up in the process. "—I have a feeling I'll really sleep this time."

"As opposed to what. A warm glass of fucking milk?"

"Can you just read already? And try your best to sound boring, I really want you to nail home this college proffessor roleplay situation we have going on."

"What?"

You blinked. That had come out a little wrong.

"Sorry. I had this proffesor in college, boring guy super dull, always managed to make me fall asleep in class and—" You cut yourself off, face warming as you noticed that Schlatt has only been teasing you about your previous sentence. "Eat shit Schlatt. Just read the damn book."

"Whatever you say."

Five minutes later and halfway through a paragraph about the importance of not making your business seem like a pyramid sceme, it was just Schlatt sitting awake at the foot of the couch as he quietly observed your snoring figure.

"Jeesus." He winced as another loud snore ripped its way through the late night air. "You could cut trees with that fucking chainsaw."

But he would be lying if he didn't admit he was happy you were finally getting some rest. He had been in the same situation before too many times than he cared to count, so Schlatt knew you would wake up the next morning feeling better than you had in days. Something he liked seeing, although you could pry that confession out of his cold dead hands.

"Fucking asshole, making me get all soft jusy so they can fall asleep." The lamp light behind Schlatt was shut off as he grumbled under his breath, smoothing the blue hoodie he had been wearing down in preparation to leave the couch before faltering.

With a sigh he resumed his position on the couch, pulling a baseball cap that he had seemingly gotten out of nowhere over his head only after making sure to toss a blanket over you.

As he continued to softly watch over you, a little blob of orange entered the corner of his eye, freezing him for a moments notice.

Schlatt turned slowly to be met with Jambo, who he sternly pointed a finger straight at without hesitation.

"Tell anyone about this, and you're not getting any of that shitty catnip for a week."

He just got a meow in response.

"Good."

Jambos tail swayed back and fourth. He watched as Schlatt curled up on the couch next to you, doing his best to respect your space before giving in and stealing the tail end of the blanket around you.

"Night Jambo. Wake any of us, and you're a dead man."

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littlejuicebox · 6 months

Text

A Pocket Full of Rainbows, A Star Up My Sleeve (1950s AU) / Chapter 1: The Drive In

Click here to read on AO3.

Summary: It's 1957, and for the first time in his life, Astarion Ancunin is happy. He's a newlywed, his spouse, Gustav Adler, is the editor-in-chief of the city's second most prominent newspaper, and they play keeping up with the Atherwindes next door. They are picture-perfect domesticity. Or so it seems. Secrets Astarion has kept hidden from his spouse begin to surface around their first anniversary, and Gustav is left to wonder... who exactly did he marry?

Tags/Warnings: This one starts off with smut (light BDSM if you squint and tilt your head) in Chapter 1 so there's that. This longfic will have a lot of hurt/angst/comfort + mild gore + mentions of Astarion's past trauma. I will update with a warning if there is a significant concern in any chapter.

Notes: Special thanks to @leomonae for beta-reading and holding my hand while I write this entire thing that has taken hold of me body and soul. And special thanks to all the awesome supportive people on my discord server that have hyped me up enough to give me the courage to post this.

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Cigar smoke spirals out of the barely cracked mahogany door and into the newsroom as the editor-in-chief, Gustav Adler, finalizes the layout for this weekend’s edition of the Baldur’s Herald. He’s running late — he should have been halfway home, by now. His wife is going to be furious with him if they miss the beginning of the movie.

But this story has a chance of finally getting the Baldur’s Herald ahead of the Baldur’s Gate Gazette; he has to get it just right. There is still more investigation to be done, of course, but no one can deny several missing persons and multiple eyewitness reports of a mindflayer in the lower city. It’s certainly enough to sell papers and promote intrigue.

The paper had gotten a decent boost when he’d been promoted to editor-in-chief a few years ago. The promotion of an openly gay man – a half-drow, nonetheless – to the position had garnered quite a bit of attention. Good and bad, of course. But as the saying goes, all publicity is good publicity.

In the Herald’s case, that had been true. The groundbreaking move had put the previously small paper on the map and quickly catapulted it to second place in the rankings, where it had been ever since. Tav was convinced it would only take one powerful story to overtake the Gazette; he felt confident the culmination of this story would be the one to do it.

A rapid knock on the door pulls Gustav from his work as he takes another drag of his nearly finished cigar; his top investigator, Karlach, is leaning against the door jamb.

“There’s been another mindflayer sighting. Dekarios is on the ground now, I’m on my way to meet him,” she says, her eyes alight with excitement. The tiefling had been chasing this story for weeks and finally had enough for her article to make the front page of this weekend’s issue.

“Excellent — I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning, Kar. I expect an update then. I would go with you two, but the wife won’t forgive me if I cancel two weeks in a row,” Gustav responds as he extinguishes his cigar in the unfinished coffee that sat atop his desk all day.

Karlach chuckles good-naturedly as she straightens from the doorframe and moves to put on the suit jacket she’d been holding in her hand. “Tell Astarion I said hello; and thank him again for mending this for me.”

“Will do— oh, and Karlach, can you run this by the printers before you head out? It’s the final layout for the weekend edition,” the editor-in-chief says as he moves to exit his own office. He hands the mock-up to his journalist and heads out of the building for the night. In the parking lot, Gustav rushes to his car and hopes his wife isn’t too terribly upset with him for being a bit late.

Astarion had been Gustav’s secretary for nearly six months before he finally worked up the courage to ask the other man on a date. It was never easy for Tav, doing such a thing, although sexuality laws had changed in his early adulthood and it was common to see people just like him about the city nowadays.

He couldn’t have assumed Astarion was interested in men simply because he alternated between wearing suits and dresses – which had been, of course, one of the things that caught Tav’s attention and fascinated him early on. Astarion managed to look breathtaking in both; Gustav had never seen anything quite like him and spent more time than he should have admiring his secretary sitting just outside his office door. As it turned out, Astarion had been flirting with him for months; he had always worried he was misinterpreting the signals.

It wasn’t until Karlach hassled him for a week that Tav finally broke down and asked Astarion to dinner. They dated for just under a year, and married as soon as they were legally allowed – all legal documentation still required assigned roles of husband and wife, and in the public sense, these designations were required across the board. They’d randomly assigned titles with the flip of a coin.

It seemed ridiculous, in the beginning. Bureaucracy and politics could be so short-sighted; the world never seemed to dot all its i's and cross all its t’s before moving on to the next agenda. In public, the couple always used the assigned titles; at first, this had been mostly to avoid confusion or ignorant comments. But then one night, Gustav had jokingly called Astarion his “wife” and it had instantly ignited something within his lover. He’d never seen his spouse so excited in bed until that moment.

From then on, in public and in private, Astarion was his wife. The word just had different meanings depending on context. As an editor, Gustav could wholeheartedly appreciate the subtleties of the phrase; as a husband, he loved the effect the word had on his wife when they were in bed.

As Gustav pulls up to the brownstone townhouse he and Astarion share, he immediately notices the new gardenia shrubs and mulch surrounding the Atherwinde’s front stoop. A soft groan of annoyance escapes his lips; he’d planned to tend their own garden next weekend, but now he would have to move that project up. He was not about to let their annoying nextdoor neighbor, Edmund Atherwinde, throw subtle remarks at him for an entire week whenever they ran into one another while leaving for work. Gustav is almost certain Eddie waits to see when he comes out in the morning, just to harass him as they both climb into their Chevrolet Bel-Airs. Gustav’s is the most recent model; Eddie’s is last year’s model. Not that he’s comparing, of course.

He glances at his wristwatch; it’s twenty minutes past the time he was supposed to be home. They should still be able to eat dinner and make it to the drive-in. He grabs the bow-wrapped box from the backseat and then makes his way into the townhome.

A quick jangle of keys echoes through the short foyer before Gustav calls, “Astarion, I’m home!”

“You’re late,” a cool, clipped voice replies from the kitchen. “I’ve had to keep dinner warm in the oven for twenty minutes, Tav.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Gustav responds as he moves to join his wife. He presents the box to Astarion with a toothy smile and a wink. “But, perhaps this will make it up to you.”

The scowl that had been painted across Astarion’s face soon pulls up into a grin as he takes the box from Tav. A quick tug of the black grosgrain ribbon reveals the present inside – a mink stole. A soft gasp escapes Astarion as he removes the fur shawl from the packaging and wraps it around his shoulders.

“Gorgeous,” Gustav compliments as he admires his lover. “I think it will go well with the gown you plan on wearing for our anniversary dinner.”

“Of course it will, darling,” Astarion responds before lifting onto his toes and pressing a kiss against his husband’s cheek, right upon the old scar Gustav got back in his military days. “It’s beautiful, thank you. Now, dinner, dear– and we’d better hurry.”

Dinner was nothing to write home about. Astarion was a fair to middling cook nowadays – in the beginning of their marriage, he’d burnt nearly every meal he made. Almost a year later, he’d managed to get the hang of a few simple recipes. Gustav, to his credit, never complained. All his time in the military taught him to accept far meager offerings than his wife’s creations; if he could eat cold beans from an aluminum can, he could handle a slightly charred meatloaf.

They made it to the drive in just as the last previews finished. Astarion had been exceptionally excited to see this film – a horror movie about vampires, of all things. Gustav was not particularly interested in the movie, but willingly endured for his wife’s happiness. Until, of course, Astarion pressed up against him a little over halfway through the film – an innocent reaction to the scene playing on screen – and gripped dangerously high on Gustav’s thigh.

Desire immediately flared through Tav, and when he turned to look at his wife, he wanted nothing more than to smear the perfectly painted red lipstick on the other man’s lips. So he did.

They were locked in a passionate kiss for several minutes, the movie all but forgotten. Their tongues wrapped around one another in a familiar embrace, a comfortable dance the two of them had become accustomed to. It did not take long for Gustav to begin advancing eagerly upon his wife.

“You’re insatiable,” Astarion chuckles as his lover playfully nips into his neck. A delighted shiver ghosts up his spine.

“Can you blame me?” Gustav asks as his lips trail to his lover’s chest, just exposed by the neckline of Astarion’s collared dress. His tongue swirls along alabaster skin before a sly hand moves under the skirt hem. “You’re delicious… and I’d very much like to have a taste.”

Gustav’s thick, purple-gray fingers run along the inside of Astarion’s pale, muscled thigh and travel all the way up to the edge of a sheer, nylon stocking. He quickly finds a garter strap, pulls, and releases the elastic band. Astarion jumps and gasps as the skin on his leg turns into gooseflesh; his husband palms insistently between his legs.

“S-surely you don’t mean here, Tav,” Astarion whispers, his legs spreading slightly, making more room to accommodate the hand teasing his hardening cock. But even as Astarion says it, he’s hoping his husband actually does mean here – the mere thought of such a scandalous act is causing arousal to dampen the front of his undergarments.

“Mmh, and why not?” Gustav asks, already beginning to slide from his seat, down to the floorboard. He wanders his hand down under the seat and pushes it back as far as it will go. It isn’t much, but enough for him to comfortably kneel between Astarion’s legs. He brings his hands to his wife’s knees and slowly presses them open with a sly smile.

“I…” Astarion tries to respond, his face suddenly feeling quite hot as a blush of both embarrassment and desire spreads across his skin. His mouth goes dry as he looks down at the man between his legs. Gustav is slowly pushing up the hem of Astarion’s skirt and peering up at his lover as he licks his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions, cocking his head just slightly. When his wife doesn’t respond, he begins to lower Astarion’s skirt; his purple-gray hand is suddenly caught between slender, milky-white fingers.

“Keep going,” Astarion quietly urges before casting a glance out the window. They’re in the final row of the drive-in. Only one other car is in the same row as them, and the couple in that car are far too distracted by one another’s mouths to pay any mind to the two men.

Gustav hums happily as he unceremoniously lifts Astarion’s skirt and drops his head underneath; he’s greeted with a pale, leaking cock straining against a pair of sheer, silk panties. The sight causes his own cock to stir in his trousers.

“Now be a good little wife and hold very, very still for me, baby,” Gustav commands with a final snap of Astarion’s garter strap. His wife gasps and squirms in his seat before obediently stilling. Tav doesn’t waste any more time with foreplay; his hands come under Astarion’s dress and quickly tear the underwear in two – he’ll buy a replacement pair later. Astarion’s cock springs proudly from its confines, bobbing slightly and begging to be sucked.

Tav brings both hands to the pale thighs on either side of his head as he pulls Astarion’s cock into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the head languidly, causing more pre-fluid to leak onto his tongue. The salty, musky taste makes his mouth water in delight. He’s certain he will never tire of tasting his wife.

A whimper escapes Astarion’s lips when his husband takes all of his length. Gustav’s warm, wet throat contracts around Astarion’s cock and then, much too soon, he retracts and begins to swirl his tongue around its pink, swollen head. Tav repeats this several times and each time his throat squeezes around Astarion, it takes everything within him to not buck upwards. His thighs are trembling. He so badly wants to move, to seek the heat of his lover’s mouth. But he wants to be a good wife, so he forces himself to obey the command.

The excited keening becomes louder and more insistent the longer Gustav teases him. By now the movie is almost over, and Astarion is catching flashes of the end scene through blurred vision and panting breaths. He clamps his eyes shut as Gustav, once again, swallows him to the hilt. This time his husband holds the position and hums, both hands squeezing into Astarion’s thighs.

“Aah, Tav–” Astarion whimpers, his tone pleading, “Tav, please–”

But Gustav retracts and his wife whines. He cannot help but smile at the neediness. He forces Astarion’s skirt up over his thighs, exposing his arousal-slicked face and his lover’s hard, weeping cock all at once. He peers up at his wife with a pleased smirk; Astarion meets him with half-hooded lids and blown pupils.

“Already, baby? Really?” Gustav purrs, one hand coming to caress Astarion’s scrotum. He applies a light bit of pressure and admires the way pre-fluid dribbles from his lover’s desperate cock. His tongue darts out to slowly lap up the string of clear liquid running down Astarion’s shaft. “I don’t think I’ve worshiped my wife quite long enough.”

Astarion impatiently squirms in his seat. He’d been doing a rather excellent job holding still until now, but the ache between his legs is growing increasingly insistent, and his husband has teased him long enough. When Gustav’s hands wrap around his cock he moans and his head falls back reflexively. The movie’s end credits are starting to roll.

“Please, Gustav… I can’t– I can’t any longer, please–” Astarion begs, through sharp shaking breaths. His hips stutter forward insistently into the other man’s fists.

“Very well,” Gustav responds, and with little warning he drops his hands and takes all of Astarion in his mouth again. Pale fingers clutch into Tav’s cropped white hair, pulling slightly just at the nape of his neck. He hums his encouragement as he bobs his head up and down the length of his wife’s cock, covering it in saliva and spreading the growing amounts of pre-fluid dripping from its tip.

Gustav can tell by the breathy keening sounds his wife is making that he is close to release. His own cock is straining within his trousers – but that can wait until they get home. The first orgasm always leaves Astarion desperate for more, anyway.

Tav swallows Astarion’s length once again, intentionally contracting his throat around the pale cock in his mouth. His wife bites back a moan and comes, hips thrusting up as warm seed spills down Tav’s throat. Astarion’s cock continues to pulse for a while longer, and Tav expertly swallows every last drop of his lover’s spend.

When he feels the other man’s fingers retract from his hair, Gustav carefully pulls back and releases Astarion’s slowly softening cock. He swirls his tongue around the tip one last time, forcing a final whimper from his lover before easing back and placing a few kisses against Astarion’s thigh.

“Darling,” Astarion pants as he runs his fingers through sweat-drenched curls. His lipstick is completely smeared across his face; he looks wrecked. “Take me home and make love to me.”

Gustav grins in response as he begins to climb back into the driver’s seat. Many of the cars in the lot have pulled away by now. “Anything for my beautiful wife.”

They crash through the townhome door, a mess of half-removed clothing and desire. Astarion shoves Tav against the front entrance as soon as it shuts behind them and grinds himself along Tav’s thigh. The rotary phone in the living room is ringing, but they pay it no mind.

Gustav quickly undoes the buttons of his wife’s dress and strips it from his body. He’s entirely naked underneath, save the garter belt and stockings – the ruined bits of underwear were left on the floorboard of the car. Astarion is undoing his husband’s belt buckle when the phone stops ringing; he moves to drop to his knees right in front of Tav, but he is quickly pulled back up.

“Not here on the tile, baby. It’s much too hard,” he murmurs as he guides his wife over to the carpeted living room. As soon as they’re in front of the couch, Astarion rips Tav’s trousers and undergarments off in one swift motion and then guides his husband to sit on the serpentine sofa.

“Now, darling, let me repay you for earlier,” Astarion purrs as his hands teasingly slide up his lover’s purple thighs. He’s just about to take Gustav’s cock in his hands when the phone begins ringing again; it’s a sharp, shrill, distracting sound.

Gustav groans in irritation. He quickly leans over to pull the handset from the stand and uses a finger to hang up on the caller. He tosses the receiver haphazardly, leaving it off the hook so that the phone will not ring and interrupt him and his wife again. It’s well past ten at night; whoever is calling can wait until the morning and call back then.

He turns his attention back to Astarion and smiles. Then, he reaches out and brings two fingers under his wife’s chin before he gently presses upwards. They meet one another with a slow, gentle kiss. When Gustav retracts, Astarion is staring up at him in wide-eyed adoration.

“Now, where were we?” Gustav asks. Astarion chuckles in response before wrapping two pale hands around the cock in front of him; it’s already leaking in anticipation as he slowly strokes up and down the length.

“I think we were just getting to the good part, my love,” Astarion murmurs, peering up at his husband through hooded lids before dropping his head to take Gustav between a pair of lipstick-smeared lips.

The phone stays off the hook for the rest of the night.

#astarion fanfic #1950s au #baldurs gate au #astarion au #astarion 1950s #wifestarion #house wife astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x male oc #astarion x male tav #astarion angst #astarion fanfiction #astarion modern au #astarion smut #bg3 smut #smut #male/male

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dontforgetoctober3rd · 11 months

Text

Come Go With Me

A Michael Gavey fic.

EDIT: Now with art! (just a sketch tho)

Summary: It's the spring of 2007 and Michael Gavey has so far kept to the vow he made to never socialize again after Oliver ditched him. Then he meets a cute girl at a coffee shop. Will the vow stand strong or immediately go down the drain?

Word Count: 3986

Rating: T (plenty of swearing, instances of misogyny, objectification of the female body, atrociously incorrect bagel eating, New York City slander, etc.)

Author's Note: yes, the title is the song by Expose. Also, I'm a corny writer.

Divider by @cafekitsune

“I don’t know or care what Oliver Quick is doing this summer,” Michael said, continuing to type on his laptop, not even making eye contact with whoever asked the question. The guy who asked left without saying anything further.

Some random guy in the library asked Michael if it was true that Oliver was going to be spending the summer with Felix on his family’s estate. It was more about prying into Felix’s business than him wanting to know anything about Oliver, Michael thought. Oliver was not on the same level of being interesting (in the eyes of the general student populace) that the Cattons were.

Michael didn’t give a shit that Oliver was going to fancy fucking Saltburn with his new, snobby, loser, nepo baby friends for the summer. Really, he didn’t. When Oliver humiliated him at the bar, he made the decision then to swear off any further socializing at the university. It was the best thing he ever did.

Already, he felt less anxious. He had more time to focus on his coursework. More time to read new books, attend off campus lectures. Walks in the park by himself were quite relaxing when he didn’t have to think about topics to keep a stilted, dying conversation going. He even went so far as to set aside time to play video games again. Every weekend, for one hour and a half, he lost himself in Fable on his Xbox.

Michael still felt the sting of the bar betrayal from time to time, as he thought he had finally found a true friend in Oliver (or at least, the potential for him to become one). The new, lone path taken had helped him realize that he was not the problem. Oliver was just an asshole, like the majority of those who went to Oxford.

Sometimes Michael wondered why people didn’t like him. Must be how smart he was. There was nothing weird about being good at math. What was so awful about being good at math, anyway? He guessed that most peoples’ biggest issue with his smarts was that it reminded them they were stupid. Oh well! Plenty of time for activities by himself now.

One of those activities was fast became his favorite, after only his fourth visit. Visiting a little coffee shop he had discovered near the river, he was able to “mingle” among people without having to talk to anyone. No one would bother him here and he would still get his dose of human contact which, after all, was vital to the psychological constitution of a person. As rigid as he intended on being with his new No Socializing At Oxford vows, Michael did not intend on becoming a psychopath. Besides, the baristas never got his order wrong. They never talked to him beyond the perfunctory taking of his order but after the third time, when he walked in, instead of asking what he would like the person at the register had asked “The usual?” and Michael would just say yes, thank you, and then pay.

Michael packed up his laptop, shoving it and the charger into his reusable Tescoe bag along with his notebooks. He stood and adjusted his sweater, checked all his pant pockets were buttoned up and zipped closed. He kept his visits only to every other day so as to not have the monotony grate on his nerves. The coffee shop made fresh bagels every day, however, and he had been looking forward to enjoying one all morning (his favorite was blueberry). He liked to eat his a certain way, scooping out the insides of each slice before finally eating the hollowed out crusts. Someone at school would surely have an opinion about his bagel-eating method (not that he cared) but at the coffee shop, Michael was left in peace.

Walking briskly through the library doors and outside in the crisp spring air, he didn’t even look in direction of Oliver walking up the steps into the library with Felix. They were laughing about something but Michael didn’t even breathe in their direction.

—---------

The delicious smell of bread baking hit him in a wave as he stepped into the coffee shop. It looked like a rush had just hit, the baristas busy cleaning and restocking various items.

“Hi! I’ll take your order right over here.” came the chipper voice. Michael turned.

Oh god, a new hire. An American one (he was pretty sure the accent he heard was American) Maybe he wasn’t entitled to feel irritated about changes in the store, it's not like he owned the damn thing, but Michael felt irritated just the same. This was HIS spot and someone new had just invaded it.

The new girl had long hair parted in the middle, tied back in a bun. The hair was turquoise. A very bright turquoise, almost neon, he would say. It pissed him off even more. Dyed hair was so fucking tacky.

He trudged to the register, hating every second of anticipating having to deal with someone new, someone chatty, even for something as impersonal as coffee.

The girl was almost as tall as he was, eye-level to him, smiling the fakest fucking smile he had ever seen. I mean, it had to be fake. Who looked this happy to be taking a stranger’s order? He didn’t even bother attempting to smile back. Whatever. Get my coffee, bitch Michael though.

“I’ll have a large vanilla coffee, sugar free, with a blueberry bagel.”

“Ah, so just cutting back on the sugar but can’t quite quit it altogether, eh?” the girl said with a wink and another smile, totally unperturbed by his attitude.

Michael pursed his lips and said nothing. The girl, still unbothered, looked down and clacked away on the touch screen. He quickly looked over her in the few seconds she imputed his order.

She had long, acrylic nails, painted a pastel kind of purple. Her name tag said Cat, which he guessed was short for Catherine. Maybe. Also her boobs were big. Not normal big, but stripper big. Not that he would know, but still. Too big for the word “boobs”, for sure. Tits seemed like a more appropriate word. If he had ever been to a strip club he was pretty damn sure stripper tits would look exactly like hers. And she had tattoos covering the entirety of her left arm. Classy, he thought condescendingly. No wonder she was working here instead of somewhere like a bank.

Michael wondered if she had tattoos on her chest as well…he was so sure he could avert his gaze before she noticed but suddenly her fingers snapped and her head lowered into his line of vision, a smug look on her face. Small wisps of hair hung in front of her ears, he noticed.

“You lose something. buddy?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean-I was just looking at your name tag.” he sputtered, fidgeting with a cuff of his sweater.

“Look, it's fine. They’re tits.”

Michael flinched slightly at her casual use of the word. It was one thing to talk like that with other guys, but girls? What was she trying to prove? Tits tits tits. He made a point to stare straight into her eyes and not look away while she continued to speak. “Its not a big deal, I promise,” she said, finishing up his order on the register and offering her hand to take payment.

Choosing not to respond, Michael set his Tesco bag on the counter so he could unzip one of his pockets to get at his credit card. The pocket it was in was hard to open and the zipper always caught, so two hands were needed.

“You can look, you know, just don’t be creepy about it.” she continued, as he struggled slightly with the pocket.

Michael did not look at her as he handed over the card.

Being branded a “creep” was the last thing Michael needed. He was already the Lonely Nerd at university, he really did not want to become the Creepy Lonely Nerd (that ogles stranger’s tits). Not that he would give a shit what people thought, but one less socially crippling label was better than one more.

“I mean, it’s not like I can leave them at home, right? I don’t mind a little look here and there!” she said with a laugh, handing back his card. Unbelievable. She was still talking about her tits!

“Can I get that to go?” Michael answered more than asked.

“Sure thing. Uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m Michael.” He was not staying here. He was not going to stay and become the Creepy Tit Guy. Given her outgoing nature, Cat would probably have something to say about the way he ate his bagel, too, he was sure of it. He would become Creepy Tit And Weirdo Bagel Eating Method Guy if he stayed. Maybe dealing with this at university would have been easier but this was supposed to be his relaxation spot. The coffee shop was ruined for him now, he would never come back. Ever. Fuck this place and fuck her.

“Alrighty, dude. Be right back!”

“My name is not…dude..” Michael stepped away from the register, his voice fading away to nothing as Cat got his order ready, unable to hear him. There was no one else coming in right now, it seemed he came during a lull. The other employees were still cleaning and restocking.

“Here you go!” Cat said with a smile, handing him his bagel in a paper wrap and his coffee.

Still not looking at her, he took his bagel and his coffee and got the fuck out of there, practically powerwalking away.

It was only until he made it to a nearby park bench that he finally saw what Cat had written on the other side of his bagel wrapper. A whole paragraph, practically. Michael, sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I was just trying to be funny, I swear. Enjoy your coffee. Hope you come back!

Michael felt relief for a moment, before loudly groaning and spilling some of his coffee as he made to slap his forehead with that same hand. He had left his fucking Tescoe bag at the coffee shop. His bag that had his computer, his notebooks, his finished papers for a couple of classes.

He had to go back. Fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, but she said she knew you.”

Michael swore. The cashier informed him that Cat had just left, her shift was over. She had taken the bag with her to the Oxford library. Apparently, she was a student there? Who fucking knew!?

“You need me to call the police?”

“No, that’s all right, I do know her.” Michael lied. “I told her earlier I’d be headed to the library later. She probably figures she can catch me there.” Without a single, civil ‘thank you’, Michael practically fled the shop.

He didn’t care how dumb it looked that he was frantically looking everywhere in the library for the familiar, turquoise hair. People always looked at him funny. It’s not like he could go to each of them individually and ask them hey could you please stop snidely whispering every time you look in my direction? Old Michael would go back to his dorm, have a cry, wonder why no one liked him and then quickly finish his homework in his dungeon of a bedroom before crying some more and then going to sleep.

New Michael didn’t give a shit. New Michael was focused 100 percent on his academics and self-care, and right now his academics were in jeopardy because that Tesco bag held papers he had yet to type (Michael liked to hand write his work first, he felt it was more thorough). Also, maybe New Michael should better remember to not forget his shit at random shops. Old Michael wouldn’t have forgotten. Whatever.

After scanning the entire first floor of the library, he stomped to the second floor. If she was a student here, how had he never seen her? The hair would have been hard to miss. Of course, it's not like he made it a habit to people watch anymore, especially in the library.

Suddenly, he saw her. Way in the corner, at a table right under a huge window, he saw her returning with her nose in a book from the shelves. On the table, his bag.

“Give it here.” Michael said, approaching the table. Cat looked up from her book.

God, she was pretty. He felt like a troll next to her. It was so fucking unfair. More importantly though…why was he telling her to hand the bag back? It was HIS. He should just take it and go, without a word. She had basically stolen it. The girl was a thief and took it to give him a hard time because she was a bitch, like every other pretty girl he had ever interacted with and been cut down by. Maybe he could like her if he gave it a try…but the days of trying to get people to think he was cool or amazing were over. She was a bitch and he knew it.

Mmm not what the note on your bagel showed, an annoying voice in his head began. That note could only have been written if she liked you because who would write that for a random customer? You should talk to her an-

Oh, fucking christ. Old Michael. Desperate-to-be-liked-by-someone-ANYONE Michael. Shut the fuck up, Old Michael. You are dead.

“Yeah, no problem, I mean it is your bag!” Cat said cheerfully, closing her book and holding the bag out to him. “Sorry you had to run all this way to get it, Michael.”

“Um, it’s ok. I run fast.” Michael said, immediately regretting it. God, that sounded so fucking stupid. He reached out for his bag.

Oh, so we’re no longer on that socializing ban, huh, Mr. Comedian? I mean, what was THAT?! Old Michael thought slyly. Shut up shut up shut up shut up!!!!! And, look! She remembers your name! SHUT UP.

“-couldn’t just leave it there, you know?” Cat had finished saying.

Michael froze. “Huh?”

What had she been talking about? Shit. “Uh, why not?” Please let that be the right response. Please let that be relevant to what she was fucking saying, Michael thought desperately.

Cat rolled her eyes, but still sounded…not like a bitch? “The laptop would definitely have been long gone if I hadn’t taken the bag. I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Oh. That was it. That had been all she had said. Michael nodded and mumbled his thanks, ready to go…except Cat still held onto the bag. And stopped him with her next words.

“You play Fable a lot?”she asked.

It’s a trap. She is going to make fun of you, he thought to himself. Just get your shit and go. His hand was also still on HIS bag. That she was not letting go of, for some reason.

“Yeah, I like it a lot.”

Oh, how riveting. That will make her swoon! Old Michael chimed in.

“Really?” Cat responded. Her tone wasn’t mocking. It was…interested? “I like it too but it feels unfinished, somehow. I wish they would release Fallout 3 for these new consoles already, I bet it would be 1000 times better than this crap that Lionhead put out.”

Michael nodded. She liked Fallout? She was impatient for the release?? Ask her to go with you to the midnight release next year!!! Ask her ask her ask her ask- No. Shut up. Be normal, for once in your life, be normal and chill about something.

“-able doesn’t feel like it’s TRULY a good rpg, where you can do whatever you want, you know? You can only go in one direction and can’t put off the main quest at all.”

She was still talking about Fable. She was still talking about video games, something they both liked, something they had in common.

This is your chance, you know. Old Michael piped in. Did any of those other people ever show even the slightest interest in the stuff you were into? Ever? Ask her out!

“Ok,” Michael began. “I see your point, but the mechanics of the game aren’t the star so much as the incredible story and character designs-”

While he continued to go on a tangent of Fable’s good qualities to Cat, trying his best not to sound too rant-y, Michael frantically gave the idea of asking her out some thought…

What if she said no? Hm what if she says yes?

It’s stupid. The release for Fallout 3 is next year. No, not even. It’s October of that year, so…over a year away! Almost two fucking years! What kind of weirdo would ask someone on a date almost two years from now?! Plus, she isn’t even into me. She just likes video games, like any other person.

Why is she still holding onto your bag, then? Old Michael thought smugly. Why did she write that little note on your bagel? Why did she remember your name? Why-

All right, all right.

“Right, so…want to come? To the midnight release for it? For Fallout 3?” Michael asked, throwing all caution to the wind and swallowing his preemptive rejection rage that already was bubbling up.

“For Fallout?” Cat said, still holding onto the bag. “Which store you going to?”

“Target.” Please say yes. I don’t even know you and I know it’s weird to ask you somewhere practically two years from now but PLEASE SAy YES, Michael thought.

“Mm, nah.” Cat, said, letting go of the bag to dig in her bookbag.

Shit.

Michael’s chest began to hurt, the hand holding his bag falling limply to his side. He could feel his eyes begin to water. She was just like the rest of them. Pathetic. So pathe-

“You should come with me to Game on Queen Street, they always price cut!” Cat said, whipping out her blackberry. “Whatever price we show them for the game, they’ll shave 5 off it! I mean, it’s not much but I’ll take what I can get! Here, put your number in.”

On sheer autopilot, Michael put his number in. He felt ashamed the entire time, having choked back a scathing insult at the last minute before Cat had shoved her phone at him.

“Are you ok?” Cat took her phone back, eyeing him with a concerned look.

“I’m fine! It’s just-probably something I caught the other day, I can already feel the sniffles coming on and whatnot. It’s nothing!” Michael babbled.

It cannot be this easy, Michael thought. It’s been this easy the entire time? Hanging out with a girl? Talking to her? Making plans? Why did Oliver never like him when they had so much in common?

Holy shit, forget about fucking Oliver! You have a date with your future wife! Old Michael practically screeched. Jesus fucking Christ, you are desperate. Shut the fuck up!! Be Normal!

“You wanna go back to the shop and get another bagel?” Cat asked, putting her books away and sliding on her bookbag. “ We could use my discount, that way-”

“Yeah, let's go.” Michael cut in. Grabbing her wrist and not waiting for her answer, he turned and began to swiftly move through the library. He tried not to get excited as Cat uttered a quick ‘cool’ and kept pace with him.

He also tried not to think about how awkwardly he was holding her hand. Everyone in the library was staring, he saw it in his peripheral. It had looked so cool in his brain but now everyone could see how his stupid hand around her wrist slightly resembled him holding his limp-no no no no noooo shut up shut up SHUT UP.

“Blueberry runs out quick.” Michael said, as they both briskly walked. “I went one time at around this hour instead of my usual time and I had to settle for onion, which is gross as shit.” You’re rambling, Old Michael chided. She fucking works there, she doesn’t need a play-by-play of bagel supply issues. Let her say something, idiot! The reason he never noticed her before, it turned out, was that she hadn’t dyed her hair yet. Cat also began to tell him about her history degree. Something about the American Gilded age and how she was deep into research of the British Astors or something. Michael surprisingly found himself not bored. Were her eyes fucking green? Oh, fuck, they were green!

They finally saw the shop in the distance. Right after his anti-onion bagel tirade and her talk of her studies, he set straight into a long-winded verbal onslaught on the statistics of how rare green eyes were. Micheal thought his heart would fall out of his asshole when Cat adjusted their hands so her fingers were laced with his. About halfway through the distance, he had cut in when she mentioned her favorite bagel flavor (pineapple) and talked her ear off the rest of the way about his bagel eating method, insisting on its practicality but really prepping her so that she wouldn’t be horrified when she saw him do it and ditch him like fucking Oliver. She laughed.

“That’s so L.A. of you. New York would hate your fucking guts, though.” she said, with a grin. “Good thing I’m a California girl! I’d rather deal with horrible traffic and scooped bagels than having to fight rats for sidewalk space.”

Right before they got to the doors, Michael went for it. “I’m telling people that you’re my girlfriend.”, he said seriously. She hadn’t run off when he had taken her hand (wrist). She had noticed the Fable stickers on his computer. She had remembered his name after one interaction. The American thing was a slight issue but hey, no one was perfect!

“Cool, because I already told the staff that you were my boyfriend when I took your bag!” Cat responded. “I told them you like to pretend you don’t know me when you get mad and I just play along to pacify you. It was the only way they were comfortable letting me take your bag!”

Be cool! Do not fucking freak out! Act fucking normal! Do NOT scare her away! Say something a fucking weirdo would never in a million years say! Old Michael reminded him.

“Let’s go back to my place after and study some calculus. Your grades in that sound horrendous.” Fucccccck. You just got yourself a girlfriend and this is the shit you respond with?! Old Michael panicked.

Cat smirked. “Only if you promise to fuck me into your mattress after.”

Michael stared at her, almost daring her to say she was kidding. When she didn’t and her gaze briefly dropped to his lips, he abandoned any doubts he had and turned to walk away from the shop, practically dragging Cat with him.

Cat giggled and adjusted herself to clutch at his arm with both hands, her legs and his in perfect sync as they made their way to Michael’s room.

—------------

“What the fuck?” Felix said to Oliver, pointing. Both were sitting on a bench, relaxing a bit before their next class.

“Didn’t he go fucking mental at you the first day? Not to be a dick or anything but is she safe with that guy?”

Oliver followed Felix’s finger and froze.

He gaped at what he saw:

Michael fucking Gavey, math genius slash freak of nature, walking happily with the pretty American girl who had said no to their bar hopping invite just last week. It was definitely surprising, but Oliver was now more determined than ever. If a fucking social reject like Gavey could get what he was after, then someone like himself was sure to have the same luck if he continued to put in the effort.

THE END

#Michael Gavey #Michael Gavey fic #ewanverse #Michael Gavey X Bimbo gf #Michael Gavey fanfiction #fanfiction #I DID IT I FINISHED IT #*jeb bush voice* please clap #I WAS going to put smut in it but despite some excellent advice i still couldn't do it!#I need to practice more! i really want to write a good fuck one day!#curse my catholic upbringing ugrrrrhhhh #yes this is corny but have you taken into consideration the fact that I DO NOT CARE???#i live life on the cob baby #and if the only way to improve my writing is by embarrassing myself on this hellsite then so fucking BE IT

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sonkitty · 3 months

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The Sideburns Scheme Post #74

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 5, The Ball, Crowley giving Gabriel hot chocolate

...

Sideburns Check

This scene is brief and mainly shows Crowley's left sideburn since the right sideburn is too blurry to confirm much of anything.

Still, that long left sideburn fits into the longest-length category that happens around Gabriel when humans aren't around.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

The more saturated red streak of hair can be found.

...

Hairstyle Changes

I don't really think the scene gives enough to work with on figuring out how the hair might have changed, but here is a composite picture so you can decide for yourself.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects | Crowley's Name Usage or Lack Thereof in Season 2)

There have already been signs that we are dealing with an outside force, such as the Metatron, reading and/or editing the story as it plays out.

He's been possibly censoring the alcohol use by having the camera cut away during certain drinks.

Now he's going to start censoring words. If it isn't him, some outside force from the character speaking is doing it.

The story will make this censorship more evident later with Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. Sandwich.

It is not as clear here, but I do think it's happening.

Gabriel is not allowed to say Crowley's name during Good Omens 2—ever. He's been allowed to bend or break the rules, but this rule is one he cannot break.

Who is against using Crowley's name?

The previous scene just told us Uriel is.

A later scene will show that Uriel says, "which there isn't," followed by the Metatron saying, "which there isn't," when the Metatron notes the "institutional problem." That implies Uriel has been conditioned to think that way as part of an institutional problem. Uriel will also later be shown to be very alarmed and concerned about if they have done anything wrong, to displease the Metatron. So, that's a set of tangential clues that this name thing is related to what the Metatron wants.

In every ball invitation scene, Crowley's name was not said. Crowley's name was not said during his own invitation to the bookshop. It wasn't said when he was in Demon Mode and told Gabriel to jump out the window.

Muriel is the one who got to say Crowley's name in the previous scene before getting the message that they shouldn't do that again.

Even though they are guided on that rule, they still got that name in while these specific events are happening to bring in that supernatural zone that will let Crowley and Muriel meet when and where they do later.

I think Gabriel tries to say Crowley's name after receiving the hot chocolate and before Crowley leaves the room.

The word doesn't come out, and music overlays where it would be. It's just before Gabriel says, "You're really nice."

Crowley himself reacts as if he heard his name said.

With this name issue in mind, maybe there are two standard sets for this scene.

I am not sure of the below. These are guesses.

Crowley holding the cup would be point #1.

The name "Jim" on the mug would be point #2.

Crowley and Gabriel having their hands touch while Crowley gives the hot chocolate would be reciprocal touch they have for point #3.

Gabriel's attempt at saying Crowley's name would still be credited or at least intended for point #1.

Crowley's touch on the rug outside the room as he leaves would be point #2.

Gabriel drinking from the cup while altering the physical touch on that cup would be point #3.

...

For paying attention to the pockets...

Crowley's Tied Hands might retie if a blurred strike on a lapel edge is allowed. The other signs are there. His watch is visible when he says, "Don't thank me," His right index finger is extended when he starts to turn, pauses, and says, "And I'm not." His left thumb joint meets a jacket edge as he is crossing the threshold out of the room.

In addition to that, the Belt Head is shown with some focus when Crowley passes the cup to Gabriel. There is a light in the room leading to this one that is to Crowley's right when this Belt Head is shown closest to the camera.

When Gabriel tries to say Crowley's name and says, "You're really nice," the cut reminds us of the nearby lamp that could have been an overhead light for the Belt Head in this scene. Then the Belt Head gets another possible overhead light through the lamp to Crowley's left as he exits the room. There is yet another lamp that's to Crowley's left and feasibly above his Belt Head in the room Crowley enters on his exit. It's the same lamp that was the Belt Head's right-side Overhead Light when Crowley first entered in the previous scene he had with Gabriel.

Crowley has a small self-made pocket with his legs when he says, "Don't thank me."

Otherwise, the main pocket that interests me isn't actually in this scene but that the preceding Muriel scene is pocketed between the Demon Mode scene and this one.

...

Story Commentary

This scene calls back to a scene in season 1 in which Crowley reacted angrily, or seemingly angrily, to Aziraphale calling him "nice."

With Crowley no longer working for Hell, he denies being nice here, but his reaction isn't as strong or angry as what season 1 showed.

Crowley was not nice when he entered the room and even with my theory of the supernatural zone, he has an ulterior motive.

Crowley's manipulating Gabriel as a catalyst to bring in this supernatural zone, but he might be doing that from a previous agreement he had with Gabriel. The storming out sequence in episode 1 shows us that something was cut, and whatever it was, appearance swaps involving Gabriel, Aziraphale, and Crowley replaced it. That means Gabriel was in on a plan.

That plan led to this draft of the story we see that's going to have Gabriel and Beelzebub end up together, leaving their positions vacant and ready to be replaced.

Crowley is still doing all of these various actions with the supernatural zone as part of something for Gabriel. These things aren't done exclusively for Gabriel. I'm sure Crowley gets something out of it too. Based on how things eventually play out, it was a mutual agreement. Theoretically, Crowley and Gabriel are not friends, but they were, and what was left from that previous friendship was enough for this story to happen. Muriel probably had a big role in the matter as well.

...

This scene focuses more on both Crowley and Gabriel compared to their last shared scene in that Aziraphale is not mentioned at all. Humans outside in the street are not shown, as Gabriel's head largely obscures the window he almost jumped out of.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

#crowley #david tennant #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens theories #good omens speculation

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alwaysteveswife · 1 year

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The Deal Day | Steve Harrington.

Here is the prologue 😃 I wrote it today in the afternoon and recently finished translating and editing it, I hope you like it 💕. Summary: Steve is about to get into a scandal and the only way to help him is to marry him. Warnings: Singer!Steve, Manager!Reader, anxiety issues, emotional support dogs, kind of love at first sight. Words: 3.9k

You took a breath, looking at your wet face in front of the mirror. Your cheeks were slightly reddened and, on your forehead, there were some unruly hairs that were out of your bun and were now willing to stay in that position permanently thanks to the humidity of your face.

You tried to check your image as best you could. Your perfectly pressed shirt was impeccable, your beige pants fell elegantly to your ankles where they clashed delicately with your white boots and, finally, your trench coat in the same color as your pants, which came down to above your knees. You were seriously hoping this was formal enough to make a good first impression.

"Relax, Y/N, you're a smart and capable woman, you'll be able to handle this," you said to the mirror in which you saw your mirror.

A noise behind you made you turn quickly. You felt the heat rise up your cheeks and cover your ears. Someone else was in the bathroom. You tried to grab your things as quickly as you could, ignoring the fact that your hands were shaking more than they should be. The lock on one of the doors rattled just as you exited the bathroom with a heavy sigh.

You began to walk aimlessly around the company where, as of today, you would be working. Diamond Entertainment was one of the most famous record labels nowadays, which became known in 2016 with Midnights' second album, "More Than Enough", composed of 14 songs mostly written and produced by the five members of the band. Undoubtedly one of the best works of their career, from the incredible instrument solos, to the high notes that Steve, the vocalist, had proven he was capable of.

You were never a fan of the band, to be honest, but you admired how hard they worked, and you couldn't take credit away from them either, they were very talented. That's why, when your ex-boss called you to tell you that he had managed to get you a job as his manager you didn't hesitate for a second to accept, it was practically a dream come true, a direct ticket to success.

You were practicing for weeks, contacting the former manager in charge of the group, getting information about the members, their career, their music, you wanted to learn as much as possible, you had to do it, you didn't want to disappoint anyone. Now, being here, in the fanciest facility you've ever played in with your boots that you found at a thrift store bargain, the thought of having taken this job was starting to eat you up inside.

"You must be Y/N, right?" asked a gravelly voice behind you.

You straightened up quickly, turning your whole body to the voice. You almost choked when you saw the man who had spoken to you. He was wearing black slacks and a half-tousled white shirt, his hair was slicked back and he had a slightly long beard, but, without a doubt, the most striking thing was his size. He was almost three heads taller than you, if not more. His cold stare didn't help his image much, but he didn't seem to mind either. You shook your head slightly, trying to get those ideas out of your head and concentrating on answering his question.

"Y-yes, sir."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, seconds that seemed like years to you. You were sure a bead of sweat had slipped down your neck thanks to how nervous you were. His intimidating gaze didn't leave you for a second, you could tell from afar that he was studying you in a very undisguised way.

"Did you talk to the members yet?" he said as he hid his hands in the pockets of his black pants.

"No, sir, I arrived a few minutes ago, I was on my way to the office to meet with them," you swallowed saliva as you watched him frown slightly, fearing had done or said the wrong thing.

"Fine, I'll walk you to the office."

Before you could say anything, the man - whose name you still didn't know - had already started walking briskly towards what you thought was the office. Almost without hesitation you hurried to his side, pressing your bag against your waist. The knot under your stomach was getting bigger and bigger, you hadn't felt that anxiety since what happened at the prom.

"How has your experience been so far?" the man murmured, resting his gaze on you.

You lowered your gaze to the floor, burying your fingernails in the palm of your hand. "Pretty good, to tell you the truth" the doors became further and further apart as you moved down the hallway to the top floor, by this point there were no more stained glass windows overlooking the city, just white walls and well-kept dark wood doors. "The people have been very kind and polite, and the facilities are in very good condition. I'm glad I was able to be accepted for this job, it's a great honor."

"The honor is ours, we've heard wonderful things about your work. I only hope they are true" he murmured, causing an even greater pressure in your chest, "But relax, there is no pressure."

You tried to laugh, but only a strange noise came out that made your throat burn. For the second time that day, your cheeks were tinged pale pink. You couldn't wait to get out of here as soon as possible, you desperately needed to lie down on your single bed and caress to Muffin and Berry, your emotional support dogs.

"Ladies first" said the man, opening a large door with gold-colored hands.

You walked in muttering a slight 'excuse me', walked to one of the available chairs across from the five people you would be working with from now on.

"Well, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Jim Hopper, founder of Diamond Entertainment."

You almost fell out of your chair listening to him. What a lousy first impression you had made on your now boss.

"The woman behind the desk is Joyce Byers, co-founder of the label."

You looked at the woman. She wore a friendly smile and her hair fell loosely over her shoulders. You couldn't help but think how beautiful she was.

"And these are the members of Midnights."

You paused your gaze for a few seconds on each of them. You watched Jim cackle as he looked at the guys. Almost immediately they let out a unison sigh.

"Alex" said the girl on the left. She was the drummer in the band. Her hair was brown and short, with some purple highlights. In her hands she had two drumsticks, with which she had been "playing" the whole time since you arrived.

"William Hargrove" said Billy, the bass player, with a wink in his right eye. You shuddered slightly on the couch at the sight of him, "at your service".

"Shut up, you idiot, you're scaring her" said the girl next to him, nudging him gently. Almost immediately she flashed you a gleaming smile, "Sorry, he's usually a bit insensitive, but he's a nice guy. I'm Robin, nice to meet you."

You smiled as best you could, nodding your head. You recognized her as the pianist of the group, a very talented and outgoing girl.

"Edward Munson" said the boy next to Alex. He had his hair tied back in a low bun and his iconic Hellfire t-shirt. He was the guitarist of the band, and definitely one of the best you've ever heard. "It's nice to finally meet you, we've all been looking forward to meeting you."

You felt a warmth in your chest. Unlike what you thought, he seemed nice enough and his voice was very soft, too much so.

"Don't say that, you'll make her nervous" said Steve. Ah, of course you knew Steve, he to you needed no introduction.

You always found him attractive, you had seen some interviews and concert clips, and it was almost impossible not to fall in love with him when he was so... him. So brilliant, so beautiful, so talented, he was such a role model for you, and working with him, with all of them, made your heart melt and reshape.

"I'm Steve, it's a pleasure" he smiled, causing your stomach to flip and your throat to go dry again, "I hope we get along very well, miss."

You almost choked when you heard the nickname. You tried to hide your face by avoiding looking at him, but you knew it would be in vain. The light here was coming in too well, and he had a direct view of your face.

"And what's your name?" asked Robin. For some reason you couldn't understand, she looked too excited about this meeting.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N" you said with a smile. Your nails pressing harder against the sensitive skin of your palms. "Nice to meet you, all of you. I hope we can make a great team. I promise to give my all so I won't disappoint you."

All the members looked at you in silence. Your nerves were growing too much, and so was your desire to cry. The thought of having made a mistake and being hated from now on made you lose your mind. You blinked rapidly, trying to make the phantom tears that were trying to leave your eyes disappear. This, you told yourself, is why you never made friends, why you were afraid to meet people.

The five of you looked at each other and, almost at the same time, began to laugh. You tilted your head to one side, frowning in confusion, you didn't understand why they were laughing. Maybe you had made a ridiculous face, maybe your presentation was too much, maybe-.

"Relax, manager," Eddie said with a chuckle, getting up from the red velvet armchair and walking towards you, "it doesn't need to be formal, after all, from now on we'll be as thick as thieves."

"Eddie is right, you don't need to be so uptight" Steve smiled warmly, as did the other members.

The urge to cry started to get bigger, but this time for completely different reasons. It had been so long since someone had smiled at you like that, someone outside of your family of course.

This time you smiled broadly, as did all of them. You also got up from the armchair you had been sitting in all this time, you looked at the five of them, hoping you could get along with each of them.

"Thank you" you said, feeling much calmer than when you entered this great company.

Inside you, deep down inside, you hoped you could be bonded with these people, have bonds you could never have before.

You looked at Steve, his brown eyes were so soft and bright. For an instant you stopped hearing all the noises around you. For an instant it was just the two of you. But that instant ended, just like any misconceptions you may have gotten when you remembered the article you read a few days ago in a digital newspaper; Steve was engaged and, in the next few weeks, he would reveal the identity of the very lucky woman.

You took off your glasses for a second, letting your weight fall onto the back of the chair. You had been working here for two weeks and you really loved it, but the person who had your position before was very... messy, so to speak. Concert schedules, scheduled interviews, collaborations, preparing the new album, you had to rearrange everything again, call hundreds of companies and labels to try to convince them to change the date and it definitely had you exhausted.

You were going over again the number of rooms to rent in Los Angeles when you heard a knock on the door.

You looked up, shouting 'come in'. You paid no attention to who came in, right now it mattered much more about the numbers you would have to dial for the next few hours, trying to make room for lunch and to check the cameras in your apartment and see your two little ba-

"Y/N,” said a tearful voice. The door rattled at the same time a sob came from Steve's lips.

You quickly got up from your seat, walking over to him and sitting him in the chair in front of your desk.

These last few weeks the guys have been very nice to you, you had gained a great appreciation for them, especially because they offered you a ride home every night so they wouldn't leave you alone so late, not to mention the times they came to your office with a snack so you wouldn't starve to death. That's why seeing Steve had you so worried. He was sweet, kind, perfect, and you didn't understand why he could be crying like that.

"Steve? What happened? Are you okay? Did something happen to a family member?" Worst-case scenarios began to run through your head as you tried to hold Steve back. You grabbed the tissues from your desk and used them to gently wipe his cheeks, completely ignoring how close you were to each other.

"I-it's Nancy," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes tightly and licking his lips, "my fiancée, she..."

"She what, Steve? Did she have an accident? Do you need to go see her?" you said softly, holding her cheek as carefully as you could. It hurt you to see it this way.

"No, she's not hurt," he shook his head, his eyes completely avoiding you, unable to see anything but his hands, "She called me a few minutes ago. She called off the wedding, broke up with me" and burst into tears again.

Panic began to consume you. Steve's wedding was on the itinerary, not only would you have to eliminate hundreds of scheduled activities, but they would also lose the money and it would cause them problems if the media found out this happened, they would be painted as liars, of wanting attention at the expense of any false news.

"I'm so sorry" he said between sobs and, for the first time since he came in, he really looked you in the eye. His face was red, his cheeks were wet and his eyes were puffy, his hair was in disarray and his shirt had some dark marks showing that tears had fallen there. "I know you've been so busy arranging our schedule and all, now I come here to cry to you about my problems and about the wedding cancellation. I'm just giving you more work."

"Of course not!" you said before you even realized it, "Don't worry about it, Steve, that's my job, you just..." you stood there for a few seconds looking at his state, how he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from letting out more sobs. "Go home, get some rest, I'll talk to Hopper, okay?"

"I'm so sorry, really," he said quietly, getting up and wiping away his tears. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Please," you begged him with your eyes, "ask someone to drive you, I'd hate for you to drive in that state."

He just nodded, running his hand through his messy hair and walking to the door at a slow pace.

"Steve?" you said as he opened the door, waiting for him to turn to look at you to continue, "it's not your fault."

He just put on a cancel smile, his eyes were much duller than usual. You couldn't help but feel a lump in your throat.

"I wish you were right," he said, walking out of your office and closing the door.

You took a breath and threw yourself back in your chair, closing your eyes and pressing the bridge of your nose.

"Looks like I'll be home late."

The first thing you saw when you entered your apartment were your two puppies, Muffin, the corgi, and Berry, the chihuahua. Both had come into your life when you fell into a deep depression as you started college. They were your babies, your emotional support puppies, your family. You loved them with all your soul, and you knew they loved you too.

"Hey babies, did you miss mommy?" you squealed in a childish voice, running to them, laughing as you saw them running to you too. "I missed you so much, did you miss me?"

You smiled happily as you felt them licking your face and jumping around you. You didn't know what your life would be without these creatures.

"I'm so sorry, Mommy had too much work to do, but I promise I'll be home earlier in a few weeks" you murmured, nuzzling behind Muffin's ears.

After a few minutes of cuddling your puppies, you took care of the housework. You did the laundry, took out the dry clothes, made yourself some instant soup for dinner, made your bed and washed the breakfast dishes.

All that time you were thinking of some way to fix Steve. You didn't know his fiancée, so you couldn't contact her, you didn't want to ask Steve either, and as far as you knew, she didn't get along with the rest of the group, at least not most of them, so you doubted they knew her number. You thought about looking her up online, but there were a lot of Nancy Wheeler's in the world, and you had no idea what she looked like. You also thought about taking a random girl and having her be the fake image of Nancy, since no one besides them knew her, but it was risky, too risky, you didn't know if you could trust them, so that wouldn't be an option either, and don't even think about Robin and Alex, they wouldn't accept even if they were paid a million dollars.

Tired, stressed, and with your head in a jumble, you lay down under your warm sheets and stayed there, with your eyes closed, listening to relaxing music so you could fall asleep, with each dog on one side of your head, and it was there, at that very moment when you almost fell fast asleep, that you came up with an idea that could save the situation. You grabbed your computer and turned it on, rattling your fingers on the desktop as you waited for the lock screen to appear. In less than 15 minutes you had drafted the mail with Jim and Joyce's address, waiting for the idea to be decent enough to be accepted.

You were reviewing some contracts when someone knocked on the door and walked into your office. Steve walked over to your desk and sat in the same chair as a week ago, only this time he looked a little better.

"Miriam told me you needed me, did you manage to find a solution?" he said with his cheeks red with embarrassment. He wasn't even able to look you in the face.

"Something like that" you mumbled, pulling a transparent blue folder out of your desk drawer. "We were talking about it with Hopper and Joyce" you looked sideways at Steve, setting the folder down in front of him, "it wasn't easy at all to make this decision, we took all this week to look at the pros and cons, but so far this is the best option we have."

You saw Steve's throat move as he swallowed saliva. His gaze shifted from you to the folder, almost as if he needed permission to look at it.

"It's a contract," you said, taking the coffee next to you and blowing on it, "for an arranged marriage." You didn't miss the surprise on her face when he heard the news, but you couldn't do much else. You were taking a big chance on this, it wasn't easy for you either.

"Arranged marriage? Of course not, that's a lousy idea, what if a stalker fan comes for the job and-?" Steve stopped when he saw your hand extended in his direction.

"Steve, we already have a reliable candidate" you said calmly, or at least you hoped it looked that way.

"Who?" you said with a frown, more out of confusion than annoyance.

"Me" you looked at Steve steadily, waiting to see his reaction.

"I beg your pardon?" muttered Steve with wide eyes, staring at the contract in front of him.

You sighed, taking a sip of your bitter coffee, knowing deep down that something like this could happen.

"I thought I said it clear, but I'll say it again" you set the coffee cup down on the table, your gaze fixed on Steve's dark eyes, "my proposal to solve your unnecessary drama is that we get married, you can think about it, but remember we have time on our hands."

"But..."

"I remind you that you were the one who brought the issue to light, Steven" you took a pencil out of your pocket, putting it down in front of him decisively, "and you asked me for a solution, here it is, do you accept?"

Steve looked at the contract again, running his hand through his face and hair. He bit his lower lip and looked at you uncertainly.

"Can I read the terms?" you nodded, relaxing a little more as you noticed he was willing to at least review the terms.

"We'll just pretend in front of the cameras. The wedding will be real, the expenses were already made and they weren't cheap at all" you explained softly, observing even the slightest gesture on his face, "We'll have to move in together to disguise, but we'll each have our own room. We have to go to any parties together, and we also have to answer some questions from reporters. Every so often we'll have fake dates in public so as not to arouse suspicion."

He nodded, reading the pages of the contract where the conditions you had just mentioned came out, but much more detailed.

"When does the contract end?" muttered Steve, lifting his gaze and watching you under his eyelashes.

"A year and a half after the marriage occurs."

He returned his gaze to the contract, shifting his leg restlessly. It was starting to make you nervous.

"Okay," he said quietly, taking the pencil next to the contract and signing on the line with your name on it, "if we only have to pretend for a year and a half, then I guess it's okay."

You nodded, feeling a weight off your shoulders. You got up from your chair, ready to go tell Hopper and Joyce the news, but a hand stopped you.

"What are you doing?" you passed your gaze between his hand and him, not quite understanding what he wanted to do.

"Gotta close the deal properly" he smiled nervously, reaching out his hand again.

You smiled, taking his hand gently and smiling back. "It's an official deal now, isn't it?"

"Looks like it," he murmured, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I'm sorry I got you into this, Y/N."

You shook your head, laughing softly, ignoring the glint you saw in his eyes.

"It's my job, Steve, I have to keep your image as flawless as possible, no matter what."

His gaze stayed locked on yours, causing a churning to form in your stomach. His eyes looked so dark and mesmerizing and so... beautiful.

"I promise I will make you as happy as possible during this year and a half. You won't regret signing that contract, Miss Y/N."

General Masterlist.

Midnight Masterlist.

Taglist: @alex-walker-86 @bakugouswh0r3 @dorothe13a @gaysludge @inesven @mcueveryday

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bestpartofbe-lie-ve · 2 years

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I love the Avatar era on tik tok, the edits r amazing and I literally enjoy all the fuss, but, yk what I'm rlly not enjoying? the amount of people, no, the amount of ADULTS throwing hate and death wishes to Spider.

SPOILERS OF ATWoW BELOW ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Putting stupid and messed up captions like "it should've been Spider" or "I wish Lo'ak kills him" and even "Lo'ak is entering his Anakin era, Spider is so done", as if all the hate would, in some way, bring Neteyam back in the next movie.

And my whole problem with all this is the lack of empathy people have over Spider's backstory and EVERYTHING he went through. He was an outsider, an outcast, not only with the Sullys but with the humans back on the lab as well. He had no real family, and even tho he tried to fit in with Jake and his family, they never really cared about him. Not the enough. Quaritch literally took him, abducted him, and even though Kiri was worried, crying for him, all that Jake said was "he's gonna be alright" and then, ofc, he forgot entirely about him. He was more worried about him spilling out the beans about their operations and base rather than his safety. (and, btw, he was tortured and still never gave a single piece of information). Not to mention how Neytiri ignored Kiri telling her that Spider had fallen off the tree.

And the whole "he belongs with his own kind" thing Neytiri had going on was so out of pocket, specially, since his own very husband, Toruk Makto himself, was a human first. And Spider was a little kid atm, a kid playing and trying to fit.

Now, imagine how surprised Spider was when suddenly, out of no fucking where, the man whom he had been told all his childhood was evil, treated him decently. Stopping the scientists of keeping hurting him and melting his brain, respecting his decision to go by Spider even tho human Quaritch wouldn't have given a fuck about his preferences, listening to what he had to say (like the na'vi lessons); even listening to his pleadings on not to hurt, or kill, the clans. And, ofc, the cherry on top: Quaritch saving him from Neytiri, losing his chance over Jake (his WHOLE motivation and goal) even though Spider only cared for Kiri's well being all the time.

And yes, Quaritch may have been manipulating him, I don't doubt that, but Spider is a noble kid. He's noble, kind, caring and would never leave anyone to die not mattering if they're good or bad. Something that makes him entirely different from his dad. He didn't wanted to save him, we literally see him struggling with taking a decision, but deep down he can't just leave him to die. Not when, after all, he's someway his dad, and the one that saved him from Neytiri moments ago. It's a debt, and if you struggle with at least just an inch of daddy issues y'all may be familiar with that sensation of "maybe he's changing, he's not a lost cause. He cares about me".

He's not a fucking traitor. With, or without Quaritch, they would've kept hunting the Sullys. The military lady said it herself, that with Jake being "the leader" they were on disadvantage, bc Jake knew how to strike them. He was already a target, Quaritch had been just the scapegoat to catch him faster.

It was dumb to save him? Yes, definitely. But it's understandable, and wishing that Lo'ak, his literally childhood best friend, kills him after finding out, or Neytiri, it's just messed up.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #jake sully #neytiri #loak sully #lo'ak #kiri sully #Kiri #neteyam #neteyam sully #miles socorro #spider socorro #avatar spider #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #recom quaritch

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psychopathseraphim · 6 months

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sammy lawrence x selfharmer!reader

tw: extreme anger from sammy's end, self-inflicted harm, forceful revealing of scars

as sammy lawrence's assistant director, you really only have one job (because sammy tends to do everything on his own); to check on how the music plays alongside the film. during your first few days as an intern, you had some issues with syncing the music, but now that it's been a few months or so, this task has come naturally to you.

one day, however, tension within the studio was high, mainly because a short was destined to come out tomorrow (anytime tomorrow) and the music department was rushing to create songs for it. not to have a complex but you were extremely certain that it was only you and sammy that deserved a place in the credits, with how the other interns (including jack fain) failed to cooperate and contribute.

sammy was extremely on-edge that same evening, especially due to the sleep-deprivation catching up to him. desperately he wrote scores and edited notes to be performed and recorded by you both; you were somewhat afraid due to your knowledge about certain instruments being short and cut-off. you didn't want to press the man, especially not tonight.

however, after submitting a scene you synchronized the music to, sammy found out about a certain error- a song for an extremely crucial part was mixed up with another song. . . this angered sammy extremely, especially because he didn't necessarily have extra time on his hands to tweak it. feeling like his trust in you was misplaced, he called you over.

"(y/n), look at this. haven't we talked multiple times about this song being for this scene?!" his voice started to get louder as his anger continued to rise. "you have ONE thing to do, (y/n)! you're in the luckier end of the rope- try being in my shoes! if I were you, I wouldn't make a single mistake!"

somewhat scared, you grab onto the hem of your shirt and look down. nervously, you try to reason with him: "I-I'm sorry, there must have been an error in the syst-"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY ERRORS IN THE SYSTEM! who else is behind the system if not you?! God, you interns are useless." he spat back, his voice booming and echoing throughout the whole studio, probably letting other late-staying employees know that you were being yelled at. before you knew it, your eyes were glassy and filled with tears, and crying in front of your boss would be embarrassing. turning around and gathering the work you made a mistake on, you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

self-harm was something you found comfort in, sad to say. you always kept a blade inside a mini-notepad you'd stuff inside your pocket; it yearned to be used when sammy was screaming at you. sitting inside of a bathroom stall, you sink to the ground, roll down your sleeves, and prepare your arms.

your arms were already littered with scars; old, new. . . it didn't matter because no one noticed. you weren't a little kid anymore, having your parents check your wrists to see if you were still doing the "bad thing". you were an adult and did whatever you want. . . so here you were, doing just that.

you idolized sammy, and being the cause of his frustration-

one cut.

how could you? as his assistant, you're supposed to help him-

two cuts.

not anger him. not make his stress worse-

three cuts.

by then, your wrists were dripping with blood that you made sure couldn't touch your sleeves. you wash your wrists, your blade, and exit the bathroom almost like nothing ever happened.

you were stressed, too, and you didn't need sammy to know about how you got rid of it. he'd find you weird and tell joey and the others about you. you could lose your job and get send to a hospital or a clinic. sammy could laugh at you; all up in your face, and send you off to find a better intern.

you didn't want to think of sammy like that, but you knew he acted exactly like that.

as you entered the music department office, you noticed that sammy didn't even lift his head to check on who entered. he's probably extremely annoyed of me, you come to think as you take your seat. for the next few moments, work goes on an usual, before sammy lifts his head to look at something in a shelf above you.

"(y/n)," he said, stern, but definitely calmer than the last time he spoke to you, "see that book up there? music theory is its name. get it for me now."

with no answer on your behalf, you stand up and reach for it. although you do grab it, your sleeve rides up and for a second, your raw, red-tinted scars are revealed to your boss, who has been staring at you this entire time.

trying to brush it off while praying to God he didn't see your scars, you hand him the book with your sleeve being held tightly by your fingers. some blood presses on your sleeve for a bit.

"here, sir," you said.

"... (y/n)- what was that?" he asked, his tone agitated once more which gave you a sense of fear once more.

"what was what, sir-"

"no, don't try to play it off like that, I'm being serious-" he grabs your wrists and forcefully pulls your sleeve back. with a gasp, you cover your scars on your wrist with your other hand. sammy, however, easily pulls it off to reveal scars and new cuts.

"(y/n)." he says angrily, "what the fuck is this?"

"I..." you're brought to tears once again with his tone of voice and the sense of fear you feel within you. please don't yell at me, or tell on me. I'm not weird, I promise, you think as if he could hear you. "I just... they're old..."

he inspects your new cuts and shakes his head with furrowed brows. "these are not old, (y/n). stop lying. tell me now- why would you do this?"

"the pressure, sir." you managed to say, praying to God sammy won't ridicule you or compare your stresses to his. "I didn't want to be the main cause of your frustrations. it's not as bad as it seems, I don't do that religiously... it's just a way to get rid of stress."

it's quiet for a bit, before sammy sighs, gets up off his chair, and walks off. he comes back shortly after holding a first aid kit, sits down, and grasps your wrist...gently, this time. he opens the first aid kit, grabs for a cotton ball coated with betadine, and places it on your cuts.

you wince first, expecting it to sting (as usual, whenever you'd cut yourself). sammy lets out a chuckle at this- "it's betadine, (y/n). it's not supposed to sting."

"oh. right." is all you utter out.

it's silence once more, and sammy breaks this once more- "(y/n), I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier- I really hope these cuts aren't as bad as you make it, though. I was irritated, that's all. I'm sorry." he continues on, "you're not useless- you're far from that. you're a good intern, and a better assistant."

these words make your heart flutter. perhaps there was more to idolizing sammy lawrence than you knew- than it was platonic. perhaps there was a bit of romance in it; something you'd never admit to him- ever.

the night ends with this, and you return home with treated cuts and a much better feeling within you.

the next day is the premiere of the newest bendy episode- that stupid dancing demon, the cause of all your stress. all of the staff members watch intensely; sammy watches for any musical errors, joey watches for any animation errors- that kind of thing.

fortunately, the episode ends without any errors spoken by the heads, and all of the staff members rejoice. two interns in the far back high-five, and joey returns to his office with a more relieved and happy expression on his face.

once everyone leaves for food and wine, sammy approaches you.

"(y/n), good job." he says with a rare smile on his mouth. "I knew you could do it. how are your cuts?"

"they're fine, sir." you respond. they were fine- alongside that, so were you.

#sammy lawrence x reader #sammy lawrence #bendy and the ink machine #i made this when i was tired #batim #batim x reader #bendy and the ink machine oneshots #batim oneshots #bendy and the ink machine x reader #joey drew studios #anger issues #angst to fluff #x reader #reader is a selfharmer #selfharming!reader #selfharm!reader

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nientedenada · 1 year

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Jungle Cyrodiil? Nah, says Decumus Scotti

Originally posted on r/teslore. Everyone's heard of the late lamented Jungle Cyrodiil, but this is Unjungled Cyrodiil before it ever was supposed to exist.

Another twist in the never-ending Jungle Cyrodiil tale. Perhaps others have noticed before but this one surprised me today.

From A Dance in Fire, first published in Morrowind. Decumus Scotti leaves the Imperial City:

Ten wagons in all set off that afternoon through the familiar Cyrodilic countryside. Past fields of wildflowers, gently rolling woodlands, friendly hamlets. The clop of the horses' hooves against the sound stone road reminded Scotti that the Atrius Building Commission constructed it.

Conventional wisdom has it that Todd changed Jungle Cyrodiil to the temperate climate we see in Oblivion, but here's Ted Peterson writing the Oblivion landscape for a Morrowind text. Scotti has never seen a jungle before he gets to Valenwood.

For Decumus Scotti, the jungle was hostile, unfamiliar ground.

Meanwhile, in Morrowind, sages will tell you

Cyrodiil is the cradle of Human Imperial high culture on Tamriel. It is the largest region of the continent, and most is endless jungle. The Imperial City is in the heartland, the fertile Nibenay Valley. The densely populated central valley is surrounded by wild rain forests drained by great rivers into the swamps of Argonia and Topal Bay. The land rises gradually to the west and sharply to the north. Between its western coast and its central valley are deciduous forests and mangrove swamps.

I have a hunch the out-of-game explanation is that Cyrodiil was never a jungle in the devs' vision in Arena and Daggerfall, and Ted Peterson as a Daggerfall writer, just didn't switch over mentally to it being the jungle Michael Kirkbride and Kurt Kuhlmann had defined it as in the Pocket Guide to the Empire, First Edition. I may be wrong. Please correct me if I am.

But it does put a different complexion on Todd's Oblivion landscape if it was a reversion to the vision they'd started with.

I'm all for Jungle Cyrodiil as the much cooler option, but Oblivion's Cyrodiil looks like it has a long pedigree too.

More comments I wrote from ensuing discussion:

I think you're right about it having multiple climates, in both incarnations of Cyrodiil: the PGE1's and Oblivion's. But I think the truth is simply that there isn't any overarching sense to be made of the whole issue. No disrespect to those who labour in the trenches to make something in-world that works for them, but nothing anyone puts forward seems convincing to me. I just go with "These are separate versions of the setting".

So, yes, the PGE1 has a humid "grassy plain" surrounded by tropical rainforest around the Imperial City. And if we had the same in Oblivion, we could wave away Decumus Scotti's version as a bad description of that. But instead we have an Oblivion landscape around the Imperial City that perfectly matches Scotti's version.

It's hard not to conclude that it was Ted Peterson's vision that prevailed, not Kirkbride's.

and

I find a lot of the responses bewildering, to be honest, trying to find ways in which Scotti's narration can be made to fit with the Morrowind dialogue. Sure, you can do that, playing the in-universe game of making sources fit, but there really was a change in development vision. We get to Cyrodiil and it doesn't look like it was described in Morrowind or Redguard. It does look pretty much like how Peterson described it in Scotti's book.

It's evidence for the development process, however awkwardly or successfully people then can try to make it fit in-universe.

#cyrodiil #tes lore #niente lore

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jujumin-translates · 8 months

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Event | 7th Anniversary: All Actors Aboard! | Chapter 1: VELUDO STATION MEMORY ✕ Sakuya Sakuma

Sakuya: Put this book away over here, and…

Sakuya: Huh, this is… the issue of “VELUDO” when I was on the cover!

Sakuya: That’s so nostalgic. I remember doing the photo shoot while the staff gave me advice.

Sakuya: (Wait, but I’m in the middle of tidying up right now! I can read it later, I’ll move on to where I have things stored next.)

Sakuya: (That reminds me, I need to think about what I want to do my article on for the web edition of “VELUDO”.)

*Something falls*

Sakuya: Hm? Something just fell…

Sakuya: This is--.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Manager: Hmmh~m ♪ Cleaning, cleaning~♪ Pretending not to see the fine details~♪

Izumi: Hey, don’t pretend not to see them, do it right!

Sakuya: Manager!

Manager: Sakuma-kun? What’s up with that box you’re holding?

Sakuya: I was cleaning up in my room and found some really nostalgic stuff! I found something I just had to show you and…

Sakuya: Remember when you… wait, h-huh? Where did it go? I swore I put it in this box…

Sakyo: …Is this what you’re looking for?

Sakuya: Sakyo-san!

Sakyo: It was on the ground over there.

Sakuya: Sorry, I must’ve dropped it. Thank you so much!

Sakyo: What’s with those pocket tissues anyway?

Izumi: Pocket tissues?

Izumi: (There’s a small advertisement on the tissues. “MANKAI Company! Now Recruiting Theater Troupe Members!”...)

Izumi: This is unmistakably a design by the manager…

Manager: Uwoah! That’s a blast from the past!

Sakyo: I know that badly designed ads are a very Matsukawa-like idea, but… what the hell?

Sakuya: …The manager gave me these tissues on the first day I came to Veludo Way.

*Flashback*

Announcement: “The doors are closing.”

Sakuya: (I’ll be there soon…)

Announcement: “Next stop, Veludo~, Veludo~.”

Sakuya: --.

Sakuya: (I’m almost there. To the place I’ve always longed to go to--!)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Waah…!

Sakuya: (This is it, the holy land of theater…)

Troupe Member A: “Alright, I’m gonna build the best invention ever!”

Troupe Member B: “Aah, my beloved…! How can I possibly convey to you how I feel?”

Spectator A: I knew this troupe would be good~.

Spectator B: I wanna see their next play! Let’s go get a flyer.

Sakuya: (This must be a street act. There really is theater going on everywhere in town.)

Sakuya: (I wonder if I’ll ever be able to act like that one day.)

Sakuya: Umm, MANKAI Company should be… that way.

Sakuya: (I saw that they had a posting on their site that they were taking applications for a live-in theater troupe and I applied without a second thought.)

Sakuya: (I’m sure there’ll be auditions or something. I’m kinda nervous…)

???: KYAAH!!

Sakuya: !?

Spectator A: …Is that a street act too?

Spectator B: It must be, otherwise he wouldn’t have fallen down in such a cartoonish way like that.

Sakuya: (Is it… really a street act?)

Shaggy-haired Man: Ow, ow, ow…

Sakuya: U-Um, are you okay?

Shaggy-haired Man: T-Thank you! I was so distracted by these boxes that I didn’t notice the step and fell.

Sakuya: Are you hurt? I hope whatever is in those boxes didn’t break either or something.

Shaggy-haired Man: Yes, I’m okay! And what’s in the boxes isn’t breakable anyway!

*Rustling*

Shaggy-haired Man: Here, these are promotional pocket tissues~. I’d love for you to take one!

Sakuya: MANKAI Company, Now Recruiting Theater Troupe Members…?

Manager: Yep! I’m actually the manager of the troupe… I thought that tissues would be easier to hang on to than flyers.

Sakuya: …Um! I’m Sakuya Sakuma!

Sakuya: I recently applied to MANKAI Company after seeing you were taking applications on your website!

Manager: Huh!? You’re Sakuma-kun!? Well, what are the odds~.

Manager: I’m glad to see that you’re so lively and kind. Please to be working with you from this moment on, Sakuma-kun!

Sakuya: Huh!? R-Right!

*Flashback end*

Sakuya: And in the end, I decided to join the troupe as it was.

Sakyo: I see.

Izumi: So you never really auditioned, after all.

Sakuya: Back then, MANKAI Company was just me and the manager.

Sakuya: But I’m really glad that I have so many friends now.

Manager: Yep, yep, same here!

Izumi: Fufu, right.

Manager: I never thought I’d end up living with the same Furuichi-san who tried to destroy our theater with an excavator~.

Sakyo: If you hadn’t been wastin’ so much money back then, I wouldn’t have had to get the excavator out in the first place.

Sakyo: Typically, theater companies with no money don’t go outta their way to make tissues for advertisements and… blah, blah, blah…

Manager: Awahwhoa… b-but the past is in the past!

Sakuya: For me, these pocket tissues are also a memory.

Sakuya: It’s thanks to this that I can remember how excited I was when I first got off the train at Veludo Station!

Sakuya: …I’ve got it!

Sakuya: Can I use this as the topic for my article for the web series?

Izumi: Of course. I think it would make a very good article.

Manager: HUH!? So you’re going to write about me too!?

Manager: If that’s the case, could you say that I, MANKAI Company’s manager, am sensible and reliable…

Sakuya: Yeah! Understood!

Sakyo: Don’t make Sakuma tell lies.

Izumi: C’mon, just let him have a little something.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

#a3!#a3! translation #sakuya sakuma #isuke matsukawa

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