#then have him rotate in my brain for days on end

[arcadeplayer-nickonz]

he bites and smells like freshly cut grass

finished re-watching Adventure Time and finally watched Distant Lands for Fionna and Cake prep, my brain is making happy sizzling bacon sounds now -

oh yeah and i missed Fern alot so watercolor and colored pencil doodles of h e

[pumaskulls]

struggling to like anything I sketch tonight, so instead of AF stuff I returned to an old sketch of Cloudy's brother to finish designing him! now if only I could remember what the fuck I wanna name him

[arolesbianism]

Y'know I don't even go into rain world tags much but I get the feeling I should block the nsh tag ahead of time (<- has started actually giving a shit abt them but also knows ppl can get Rly weird abt this stupid green robot)

[parfaitblogs]

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour.  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended. 

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore. 

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas. 

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets. 

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug. 

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin. 

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet. 

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?" 

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down. 

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks. 

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you. 

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom. 

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was. 

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done. 

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining. 

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling. 

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile. 

"Hi," you chirped. 

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly. 

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you. 

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils. 

"What if I want to?" 

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face. 

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't. 

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further. 

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon. 

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs. 

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face. 

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know. 

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed. 

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them. 

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints. 

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers. 

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted. 

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin. 

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless. 

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good. 

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too). 

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back. 

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you. 

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it. 

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further. 

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly. 

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head. 

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched. 

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know. 

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over. 

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit." 

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning. 

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands. 

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything. 

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own. 

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him. 

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his. 

"By a mile," he replied. 

"Just one mile?" 

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?" 

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident. 

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs. 

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[workingwhileidream]

Okay Burrow's End had me thinking some thoughts... So here are my favorite Dimension 20 moments that rotate like a rotisserie chicken in my brain (in no particular order other than the order I thought if them).

- Riz goes into the butthole of the Corn Ooze Monster (Fantasy High). The first absolutely insane shenanigans move anyone makes on D20, setting the tone the show will have forever.

- Raphaniel kills Queen Pamelia (Ravening War). I think I saw Brennan's soul leave his body briefly when he got that How Do You Want To Do This from Matt. Time was an absolute flat circle that day.

- Hank convinces Brennan to let him role savvy instead of sneak (Mentopolis). Hank is one of the most famous content creators, having him on the show was phenomenal to begin with. Then right out of the gate, he pulls this move in his first episode. And it just works. Hilarious, instantly iconic.

- Jet Dies (A Crown of Candy). When Lapin dies, it is shocking but I wasn't attached to him as a character. Lapin was a bit antagonistic and his death happens early in the season. On the other hand, Jet is instantly likeable. Emily and Siobhan are amazing as siblings, their performances this campaign are some of my favorites. I have siblings and I am very close to them, so this hit me like a ton of bricks.

- The entire epilogue of Burrow's End. "Are you pitching and Air Bud ending?" is one of the instant hall of fame quotes from this show. I started crying I was laughing so hard.

- Ylfa's bottleneck and the TPK (Neverafter). There are so many close calls for total party kills in Dimension 20 history, but this is where it finally happens and it's only 3 episodes in. I was on edge, expecting another TPK at any turn, for the rest of the campaign.

- 3 nat one initiative rolls for the battle that literally opens the season (A Starstruck Odyssey). The beginning of a new season is always full of excitement. This season was extra special, having everyone back in the dome after the pandemic and the season being based off Brennan's Mom's comics. The zoom energy is still in the air and I still think about this season opener a lot.

- Mother Timothy Goose breaks Snow White's concentration with a cantrip (Neverafter). Only Ally Beardsley could and we all damn well know it. Still didn't stop me from being so far in disbelief that all I could do is laugh.

- Hob's "You will never know another lonely day" speech to Rue (A Court of Fey and Flowers). I will still cry about this if I think about it for too long. Rue and Hob's romance is the heart of this season to me. I won't be over it ever.

- Gertrude convinces Nyruth to give the Questing Queens very powerful boons after the Queens tried to rob them only a few hours earlier (Dungeons and Drag Queens). The fact that this season exists drives a level of serotonin into my brain that is unimaginable. This is the definition of a big swing and when Bob rolls well, Brennan has no other choice than to honor it. This is one of the moments I have made a meme of. I cannot wait for season 2.

- Wuuvy shows up to the duel and she did not come to play (A Court of Fey and Flowers). Aabria has talked about how Wuuvy is one of her favorite NPCs and I feel the same. Wuuvy and Rue's relationship has such a great arc and this moment is so pivotal.

- Fabian's no good very bad day (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). An iconic moment in D20 history that was truly wild to watch live. For everything to go so fantastically bad for Fabian and Lou was unprecedented. There is a reason why people still talk about this moment to this day.

- Amathar survives being pushed off the castle (A Crown of Candy). Brennan tried to kill Lou so many times in this campaign. I really thought Brennan had gotten him with this one, my stomach sunk. But Lou pulls it out and Amathar lives once again.

- Pib plays "Smoke on the Water" (Neverafter). "I stepped out to play 'Smoke on the Water' " is also a hall of fame quote to me. This list could be all Pib moments if I'm being honest, he's my favorite Zac character. And the fact that Zac doesn't roll well makes this moment funnier to me.

- Buddy Bear gets planted with the All Blossom (Dungeons and Drag Queens). Jujubee and Brennan owe me a therapy session for this one. I sobbed. My cat is my baby and I will be ruined the day she leaves me, so I get it. I really do.

- "Eat your dice, Brennan" (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). A great bit made physically possible by Siobhan. I hope Siobhan gives him gummy dice or something like that so that Brennan can continue to eat his dice for Junior Year.

- Orange Top Hat Fairy (Neverafter). It's a horror season and the cast is doing bits about how hot a mini is the entire finale and the Adventuring Party that followed. I felt the stress and off the walls energy through the screen. The Smooth Criminal pin was the first piece of Dimension 20 merch I bought.

- Viola's epic takedown of Phoebe (Burrow's End). Watching Rashawn absolutely crush it her first time in the dome was amazing. I loved Viola from the jump, her arc was so satisfying and fun to watch. Also the idea of a tiny stoat kicking a gun just the right way to get it to fire is hilarious. No notes other than please have Rashawn come back on every season she possibly can.

- Evan Kelmp warns the Rosemont student not to duel him (Misfits and Magic). Brennan's deadpan warning matched with the reactions of the other players and Aabria really make this scene. An underrated Brennan moment for sure.

- Stacey Fakename turns out to be real (Mentopolis). This was such a good reoccurring bit, so to have Stacey be real at the end of the story was too funny. In a season of bits, tropes, and puns - this one has the most payoff to me and is definitely my favorite.

[puckinghischier]

Neighbors

nico hischier x fem!reader

summary - reader can’t bring herself to talk to her new neighbor

notes - guess who’s backkkkkk!!! y’all i have missed writing so much, and i’m so happy i could get this out to y’all. i’m a bit rusty so keep that in mind while reading, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. and as always, happy reading 🫶🏼

request - from my 400 follower celly - “Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission!” “What do you mean abort mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” “Yeah, and he’s too attractive. I can never speak to him again” with either luke or nico

[3.3k]

“I really think today is the day, Mia,” you speak in to the cell phone wedged in-between your shoulder and cheek, putting away a few decorative trinkets on the newly hung shelf above your TV.

“You’re telling me you’re actually going to talk to him?” She questions, her tone telling you she doesn’t believe you in the slightest.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you miss ‘I don’t believe my best friend has the guts to talk to a cute guy,’” you huff out, stretching your arm as much as you can to reach the high shelf.

“I mean, your track record precedes you, Y/N. You’ve said for three weeks now you’re going to introduce yourself and the universe has given you every opportunity possible,” she references the several hallway and elevator encounters you’ve told her about. “but, instead of hearing about a meet cute to an epic love story each week, all I get are stories of why you couldn’t say more than a garbled hi to him before darting into your apartment.”

Finally reaching the shelf, you huff both in response to her statement and the large reach you just accomplished.

After moving in to your new apartment a month and a half ago, you learned on your second day here that your neighbor directly across the hall from you is the most attractive guy you’ve ever met.

You ran into him while carrying a few boxes up to your new space, almost plowing him over while stepping out of the elevator because of your blocked field of view from the stack of boxes.

You apologized profusely, your line of sight still blocked, telling the stranger you know you shouldn’t be carrying this many boxes at once, but you really didn’t want to make another trip down and up. You made a bad joke about deciding to test out your sonar detection incase your eye sight ever left, and gave a few low, drawn-out beeps resembling those you’ve heard on TV.

When you heard the deep chuckle from the other side of the boxes, you turned yourself sideways to see who you almost ran over.

The man standing before you was simply the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. His dark, incredibly soft looking hair matched his dark brown eyes perfectly. The light dusting of facial hair covering his face was definitely working in his favor. The smile on his face was really what made your cheeks heat, though.

Feeling the embarrassment of your terrible joke creep up your neck, you slipped out one more sorry and then all but sprinted to your (thankfully) unlocked door, not even offering your name.

It was that night you told Mia about the handsome stranger, vowing that you were going to redeem yourself one of these days.

Since then, you’ve ran into him what seems like every other day, but never could find the brain power to actually speak to him. It’s either the cliché of both of you leaving your apartment at the same time, or you both end up in the elevator together in complete silence due to your avoidance of uttering anything embarrassing in the confined space. There was one time you unknowingly parked your car beside of his, the two of you walking together the entire way up from the garage to your floor with only a small hi and a wave from you, because you pretended to be listening to your headphones in order to avoid awkward small talk.

“Well, I was never ready all of those times,” you rotate your shoulder in a few circles, trying to work out the small sting you caused. “This time I’m ready. I can feel it.”

“If I was the one living next to him I’d be feeling something alright,” Mia quips back in a suggestive tone, leading you to scoff at her raunchy joke.

“Mia, I’m being serious. I think today’s the day. It’s Tuesday, so I’m pretty sure he should be getting back from the gym around three, which means if I go down to the lobby and pretend to be getting back from a walk around that time I’ll have the perfect in,” you confide your plan in her, having thought about your strategy since last night.

“You are being so insane right now, can you even hear yourself? Just go knock on his door and ask to borrow sugar or something. Then, when he asks what you’re cooking, invite him over for dinner and BAM! a date you didn’t even have to try for,” she suggests.

“Mia, that sounds like the start to a bad porno, I’m not doing that,” you refuse her suggestion right as you hear several loud voices coming from the hallway outside of your door.

Walking over to look into the small peephole, you see not only your attractive neighbor, but several other insanely good looking-men standing outside of his door. You look down at the watch on your wrist, noticing it’s only two, confused as to why he’s home right now.

You can hear Mia chattering away in your ear, but you have no clue what she’s saying, your brain too focused on the men in your hallway.

“Mia, shut up. He’s home,” you interrupt your best friend, causing her to pause momentarily.

“What do you mean he’s home? Did you not just tell me he would be home at three?” she asks you.

“I mean, that’s how it’s been every Tuesday until now. But he’s home. And he has…friends over,” you whisper, worried that if you can hear them they can hear you.

“Friends? Like, other guys? Or does he have a bunch of girls over? Y/N, if he has a bunch of girls at his apartment right now maybe this isn’t the kind of guy you want to go after. Seems like he can’t make up his mind. Or maybe he’s trying to be the next Hugh Heffner and is holding auditions out of his apartment,” you listen to her ramble. “And if that’s true you definitely don’t want to involve yourself with all that. I mean, can you imagine-“

“Mia, so help me God if you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’ll hang up on you,” you snap out, not enjoying her wandering mind.

Watching the men on the other side of your door laugh and converse has you even more curious. You’ve wondered since you moved in what he does for work. The hours he comes and goes are often inconsistent and don’t line up with any job you know of. He never seems to have the same days off, and sometimes you even go several days without seeing any sign of him.

You’ve wondered if he was a doctor, because it would explain the late nights and odd hours, but you’ve never seen him wearing scrubs, all of the men in the hallway currently sporting athletic wear. You thought maybe he was a lawyer, because you see him wearing suits pretty often, but he never carries a briefcase or anything else to prove your theory. You’ve even contemplated that he owns his own company, seeing as he seems to work when he wants and would explain the random down time in the middle of week days.

Of course, you understand you also have a lot of free time during the week, but you have a typical, nine to five office job, you just haven’t started at your new branch yet. Which is partially to blame for the new found obsession with your new neighbor’s whereabouts. You have way too much free time on your hands.

“Damn, someone’s grumpy today. It’s all that pent up frustration from not talking to mystery man. Just go outside and say hi already. Or is today really not the day?”

Even though she can’t see you, you roll your eyes at your friend’s words.

She’s teased you endlessly about this since the second you mentioned him to her. She’s even made a tally of how many times you’ve claimed you were going to speak to him and then didn’t (13 times to be exact). You know she’s just poking fun, but you also know she won’t stop doubting you until you actually do it.

It’s this that prompts you to tell her “You know what, fuck it. Today is the day,” and open your door.

The voices in the hallway stop, all four heads turning to look at you.

Your phone is still being held to your ear with one hand, while the other hangs down at your side.

Your neighbor, standing in the middle of the group, gives you a warm smile, taking in your appearance.

When you look down at your stained t-shirt and your neon pink pajama pants, you mentally palm your forehead, not even thinking to change before making your grand gesture.

Looking back up at the group, heat rising up your neck and to your cheeks, you freeze, the simple “Hi” lost on your tongue.

With furrowed brows and a tilted head, your neighbor speaks out a soft, “Hey there, you okay?”

You nod your head a little too aggressively and manage to squeak out a ‘Fine! Peachy! Never been better!” before slamming your door.

Turning and leaning against the cool door, you close your eyes and try to block out the memory of what just happened.

“Girl…I don’t know what just happened, but that didn’t sound like a hi,” Mia speaks from the phone, startling you, having completely forgotten you were on the phone.

“Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission,” you shake your head no.

“What? Abort mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor? Just go back out there and try again,” she suggests, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah, and he’s too attractive. I can never speak to him again. Plan be damned, I’m going to have to move apartments again,” you whine out to her, letting the dramatics take over.

“Oh shut up, it’s not that bad. I’m sure he’s already back to talking about whatever with his friends. He’s probably not even going to remember it by the next time you see him,” she refuses to play into your drama. “Plus, you’re a catch. I’m sure he’s been as curious about you as you are about him. Sometimes the silent treatment works wonders.”

A knock on the door you’re leaning against startles you, causing you to jump away from it as if it’d burned you.

“Mia, someone’s knocking,” you whisper, looking out of the peep hole to see your neighbor’s smiling face looking back at you.

You let out a small yelp, jumping back again while covering your mouth with your hand, knowing it’s likely he just heard you.

“Mia it’s him. He’s literally knocking on my door, what do I do?” you ask he as he knocks again.

“Oh my god, you dumbass, answer it! This is your in!” she exclaims through the speaker.

“I can’t answer it! I’m wearing a ridiculous outfit! And I just opened and slammed my door in his face like a freak. Plus-“ you’re cut off by a muffled voice.

“You alright in there? I know you’re standing at the door, I can hear your voice. I just want to make sure you’re okay and didn’t need anything. Sorry if we startled you,” his accented voice carries through the thin door.

“I’m hanging up now, go talk to your man,” Mia chuckles and hangs up the phone, leaving you on your own to deal with the situation before you.

Cursing her, you bring your phone away from your face and wipe your hands on your fluffy pants.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” you speak through the door.

“You know, if you open the door I won’t bite,” your neighbor jokes, causing another wave of embarrassment to settle in your stomach, not knowing why you decided that talking to him through the door was a normal thing to do.

Taking a step towards the door, you reach for the handle and open it. You’re greeted with the handsome stranger standing not even a foot from your door, no sign of his friends.

He gives you an amused, but warm smile.

“See? It’s just little old me out here,” he brings his hands up in a surrender pose.

You give him a nervous laugh.

Observing his athletic attire, you admire the poorly hidden muscles peeking out from under his compression shirt. The sight makes your cheeks tinge red once again.

When he senses you’re not going to speak, he breaks the silence instead.

“So, you sure you’re okay? You seemed a little…frazzled a few minutes ago. Wanted to make sure we didn’t scare you or anything,” he starts. “I imagine four large hockey players standing outside of your door might seem a little intimidating to a single woman living alone,” he brings his hands down from his face, sticking them in the pockets of his athletic pants.

You wonder if the surprise is evident on your face. In all the time you’ve spent brainstorming about his career, hockey never crossed your mind. You knew your new city had a huge hockey following, but you never thought you were living across from one of the sports’ players.

Realizing you still haven’t said anything, you clear your dry throat.

“Oh, no, you guys didn’t scare me. I just…I don’t know why I opened the door, to be honest. Guess I had a major brain fog moment or something,” you lie, hoping he buys your lame explanation.

The man standing in front of you lets out a small laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, as long as we didn’t scare you, I guess we’re alright then.”

“Yup, we’re good,” you pop the ‘p’, rocking on your heels slightly, needing to channel your nervous energy somehow.

You expect this to be the end of the conversation, but he still stands there, observing you.

“So, do I get to know your name, neighbor?” he questions you, breaking the silence between the two of you for the second time.

His question surprises you slightly, not expecting him to drag the conversation out any longer.

“Well, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you hear the words come out of your mouth, with an unintentional flirtatious undertone.

“Nico,” he tells you with a smirk, leaving room for your own reply.

“Y/N,” you move to cross your arms over your chest.

“Since you didn’t protest, I’m guessing you are?” he asks vaguely, causing your brows to furrow in confusion.

“I’m what?”

“Single and living alone,” his smirk only deepens.

Well shit. Is he…flirting with you? While you’re dressed like this? And have only ever made terrible impressions on him before?

“Well, Nico, that depends on why you’re asking,” your mouth is apparently miles ahead of your brain right now, not knowing where this sudden burst of confidence and flirty personality is coming from. “Are you asking because you’re curious about your weird new neighbor, or are you asking because you’re some kind of serial killer that’s stalking his prey?”

This earns a real laugh from him, not just a short chuckle, and you want to melt at the sound.

“I’m asking because I think my new, ‘weird’ neighbor just so happens to be very attractive, but I can tell that she’s far too shy to ever make a move on her own, so I figured I’d help her out a little bit,” he leans forward slightly.

His words make your mouth snap shut and causes you to stand up a little taller, not at all prepared for the conversation to take this direction.

All these weeks of you avoiding Nico, dodging him in the hallway and the elevator, flat out ignoring him from the car garage to your doors, not even being able to say one coherent word to him, and it’s all been pointless? He’s been thinking about you all this time too?

You feel so stupid in this moment. Knowing that he caught you, and knew that you were running from him this whole time makes you squirm, and not in a good way.

Your mind immediately goes back to Mia’s words not only earlier today, but every other time you’ve discussed the man standing before you. Her insistence that you were psyching yourself out for nothing and all you had to do was talk to him echoes through your mind.

“Oh…uh…well…in that case, yeah. I live single. Wait, no, I mean, I’m alone,” you wince, hearing the trainwreck coming out of your mouth. “Okay, I’m just going to shut up now and nod my head,” you shake your head yes, preventing any more jumbled words.

Nico laughs at you once again, clearly amused and not at all repulsed by your awkward nature.

“Well, I live single too. Just incase you were wondering,” he echoes your previous word stumble, shoulders still shaking from laughter.

“Twinsies,” you blurt out, holding your hand out for a high-five.

Before you can make your brain work like a normal, functioning person, Nico slaps his open palm against yours, biting his lip to keep from laughing again.

“I think I’m going to stop while I’m still slightly ahead,” you start, taking a step back into your apartment. “Thanks for checking on me, but clearly I’m lacking any coherent braincells right now, so I think I’m gonna get back to decorating,” you try to end the conversation, not wanting to give yourself anymore embarrassing moments to keep you up at night.

“Wait!” Nico quietly shouts, his face showing it was his turn to be embarrassed, clearly not meaning to have screamed in your face.

You pause the closing of your door, staring at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just, do you want to grab dinner sometime? If you’re not interested that’s fine, but I wanted to at least put the offer out there before I don’t get the chance to speak to you again for another month,” he rushes his words a bit.

You’re so shocked you just stand there and stare at him for a solid minute, the braincells you lacked mere minutes ago now bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Nico stands there expectantly, waiting on either an acceptance or rejection.

“Are you sure?” is what you manage to come up with.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Nico huffs out a laugh through his nostrils. “I’ll even do all the talking if you want.”

You knew you were already going to accept, but his offer made you feel slightly warmer inside. Obviously, he’s been victim to your inability to coherently speak during moments like these, but not pressuring you to carry a majority of the conversation and still wanting to spend the time with you despite your nervous habit sealed the deal even further.

Not trusting yourself to not botch your words once again, you nod your head yes, unable to hide the smile that makes its way onto your face.

Nico returns your smile, a triumphant look in his eyes letting you know he was genuinely worried you’d say no.

“Alright. Good. Awesome. Great.” Is all he says, taking a small step back towards his door.

“Well now you sound like me,” you tease, that small bit of confidence making its way back to you.

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me already,” he shrugs. “See you around?” he continues to walk backwards until he meets his closed door, jumping slightly when he runs into the solid material.

You giggle at him, nodding your head yes again, finding his sudden nervousness cute.

“See you around, Nico,” you give a small wave before shutting your door, taking in what just happened.

You unlock the phone still in your hand, clicking on Mia’s contact before bringing it up to your ear.

“Listen I know you’re mad at me, and I probably shouldn’t have hung up on you, but I knew you wouldn’t talk to him if I was on the phone and you needed a push, so really I did you a favor-“

“Mia, today was the day,” you interrupt another one of her rambles, grinning while hearing her screams to spill every detail.

[tblsomedoodles]

Here's an art/info dump about this stupidly cute idea that's been rotating in my brain for three day.

(the first comic here is just how they first met. they ended up in the same alley, pestering the same cat without noticing. Then the cat left and they notice they're not alone lol)

(Second is Donnie 'talking' with Mikey for the first time. He only uses Mind Mend to communicate and is just as surprised as Mikey to find it worked on him. (it has only worked with Leo before this))

I'll put the rest under a break b/c i will be going off about this and i don't want it to take up your entire feed.

I'm jokingly calling this "Mikey's Imaginary Friends" though that might change if i continue this.

Basically it's this, the twins grew up with Draxum while Raph and Mikey grew up with Splinter. Neither set knew about the other (b/c splinter though they were dead and didn't want his two remaining kids to worry about it, and Draxum was too focused on fixing his lab to pay much attention to the twins.) So, imagine Mikey's shock when, at age 8, he's out exploring topside (having snuck out) and runs into two more mutant turtles (who also snuck out and are exploring.) Thus begins an ongoing sneaking out to meet up thing between the three b/c Mikey's excited to have new friends and the twins are just as fascinated with Mikey as he is with them.

And before you ask, "hey, why doesn't Mikey tell his family about the two other turtles?" he does. Raph thinks he just made up some imaginary friends so he plays along but doesn't believe they're real. Splinter, on the other hand, thinks he's talking to Hamato ancestors due to some very big miscommunications (that i'll probably draw out at some point b/c it's silly)

Twins background wise, i'm still thinking through a lot of it, but i'll put my thoughts down anyways.

Draxum knew that training the twins at a young age would be counterproductive, so he doesn't train them beyond some basics a few times a week. Other than those sessions, he leaves them alone with their less-than-stellar caretaker, in favor of rebuilding his lab. The caretaker doesn't do much for them beyond give them food and very basic school like lessons. Beyond that the twins are left on their own.

they come to the conclusion that the only people that will care for them is themselves. They discover Mind Meld very early as a result of this and will not talk verbally b/c they found out early on with their caretaker, that if they tried to talk, they were just ignored anyways, so what's the point.

(I'm also thinking Donnie might be deaf or hard of hearing in this, with the pair of them using Mind Meld as a way for him to temporarily hear through Leo and thus keep Drax from finding out. but i'll have to do some more research before i decide for sure/figure out the specifics)

as for Meeting Mikey

That's why they became so fascinated with mikey. B/c mikey was the first person that treated them like a person and not a job or an incomplete experiment. (He's also so happy and bright, they can't avoid getting drawn to him lol)

Mikey's probably the only one they verbally start talking to, even after they teach him mind meld. (though Leo's the one to pick up on that more than Donnie. Donnie doesn't do much talking at all outside mind meld).

They also come out of their shells (hehe) a lot as they interact more with Mikey. Before they met him, they acted more like automatons, even when alone. The more they socialize with Mikey, the sillier these two get. Leo learns about puns and starts going mad with them, Donnie starts happy stimming about thing (which he has either been suppressing or just never had the urge to do before.) Basically they stop acting like little creepy statues and start acting like kids.

Honestly, it's just a cute idea with the kiddos meeting each other and Mikey inadvertently socializing his not-well-socialized brothers.

(also, the twins wear masks b/c Donnie doesn't like the smell of the city and he's worried about germs. Not for any ninja reasons, what so ever.)

Alright, that's it for my info dump. maybe more later? Maybe not? Depends on how much longer these kids keep my attentions (though right now, they're doing a pretty good job at it lol)

[natalievoncatte]

4. Garden

Kara waited as long as she could. Taking to the air, she lifted herself to cloud-height, ignoring the bite of the upper-atmospheric chill as the high winds snapped at her cape. Hovering in the air, she took a moment to unbind her senses, expanding her awareness to let in the cacophony of sounds she usually suppressed through years of focused willpower and concentration.

She rocked in the air, shocked by the sensitivity of her own ears. Jeremiah and then Eliza had taught her this, made the world in its vastness small enough that she could live in it.

Clark had taught her to reach out, to hear, as well as see and smell and taste and feel, beyond. Sol’s gentle kiss did more than expand her awareness and multiply her strength, it activated pathways in her brain itself, giving her a control over her senses that she could never match under a red star.

It took only moments to sift out the quiet sounds of Lena’s pulse and her gentle, hissing breaths as she fought back sobs.

Air folded around her as she shatters the sound barrier, flying high enough that the boom that followed her would be a mere puff to the ground. Another trick she picked up from Clark, using the earth’s rotation to speed her flight.

Kara touched down at a familiar but foreboding place: the Luthor estate.

All that had been the property of her family was hers now, a gift and a curse. Lena had talked about making it an orphanage or a long-term care hospital or a new children’s medical campus, but the building itself had held her back. What malevolent secrets had Lex left behind? Booby traps? Sentinel robots hiding in the walls? Caches of weapons or Lexosuits?

A Kryptonite bomb, to spit death at her for hate’s sake?

Kara hesitated, but Lena was here and upset. She went inside.

It was immediately obvious where Lex had reinforced walls and lined rooms with lead. Kara listened for Lena, finding that the trail of sound led her outside.

She had to use her x-ray vision.

Lena was kneeling in an hidden place, a walled off section of the formal gardens. Kara found the entrance cleverly disguised, a section of wall where one slipped through a gap and turned left then right and came out in a tiny, overgrown courtyard.

Kneeling, Lena was surrounded by pruning shears and garden implements, dressed to work outside. She looked so out of place it was almost a little silly to see, but there she was.

Kara could see that Lena had already been working on cleaning and clearing. She knelt before a small plumeria plant, resting in a well kept pot.

“Lex let it all die,” said Lena. “He knew it was here. He could have kept it for me, but he didn’t. I suppose I’m lucky that Lillian didn’t rip it up and install a septic tank.”

Kara walked over, standing next to her.

“My father built this. It’s a replica of my mother’s garden. We had a little walled garden next to the cottage where I lived with her before I came to live with the Luthors.”

Kara said nothing, instead brushing a lock of Lena’s now-curly hair back from her shoulder.

“He never showed it to me.”

“Why?”

“My parentage was his dirtiest secret. Lillian didn’t even tell me until she thought she could use it.”

“Do you think he loved her?”

“I have no idea. He loved me, I think. He loved Lex but in a different way. I don’t think he even liked Lillian.”

“You’ve never told me about him.”

“It wasn’t easy being his child. He drank too much, neglected the company, and drank more when things went badly for us. The family was actually in trouble until Lex turned it around. He started managing things when I was in grade school. By the end, he’d spend all day in his study and I’d spend half the night sitting with him while he talked and told me stories. Lillian hated him for it.”

“You miss him.”

“I miss them both. I miss Lex. I miss him so much. I mourn him every day.”

“I know,” said Kara.

“My mom died, my father died, my brother went insane.”

“Lena…”

“Is it me?”

“It’s not, you know it’s not.”

“Is it my witch blood? Am I cursed?”

Kara knelt beside her, pulling her cape across Lena’s shoulders to fight the autumn chill. Lena leaned into her.

“What if it is a curse? What if it gets our little one too?”

Kara put her hand on Lena’s belly, spreading her fingers. There was no bump yet. Kara listened intently, eagerly awaiting a moment she would never forget, when a second heartbeat joined Lena’s. It hadn’t come yet but it would.

“Nothing is going to get our baby,” said Kara. “Their moms are Supergirl and Lena Luthor. We can do anything.”

“It’s going to be a children’s hospital,” said Lena. “The house. A lot of the grounds are going to be torn out, but I’m keeping this garden. I’m going to give my mom a memorial. I think I might put one in for my dad, too.”

“I love you,” Kara murmured. “I love you so much.”

Lena leaned into her and Kara sat down to pull her in.

They sat for a long time, and listened to the wind that shook the leaves.

[astraystayyh]

The alternative

Brother's best friend changbin x reader. Fluff and slight angst. (Han is the brother).

Based on my interpretation of The Alternative by Lyn Lapid (if u can, play it after the •••)

You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.

skz song series masterlist

"Yn?" Changbin’s voice echoes clearly through the phone, and you startle, leaning away to check if you mistakenly dialed the wrong person. But there it is- Han's contact name illuminating your screen, confirming your intended call.

"Changbin? Where is Han?" you ask hesitantly, confused as to why your brother did not pick up his phone.

"He left his phone at home. I wasn't going to answer but I saw five missed calls from you, so I figured something might be wrong. Are you okay?" he asks, his voice softening at the last question.

His concern tugs at your heart, causing you to bite your lower lip forcefully. You've been sitting across from your date for the past two hours, and yet Changbin managed to pay more attention to you in the span of five seconds. 

"I'm okay, don't worry about it," you reassure, trying your best to sound composed.

"Did you need something?"

"I just... I'm on a date right now and I wanted Han to come pick me up. But it's okay."

"Did they do something to you?" he asks, his voice carrying an edge to it that hadn't been present moments ago.

"No!" you quickly reassure. "I just... I don't know, it feels off but it's okay. I'm sorry for bothering you." The practiced apology rolls off your tongue effortlessly, without you having to think about uttering it.

You're accustomed to shrinking yourself, trying your hardest not take up space with your feelings. It has become second nature to you to bury your problems in a dusty box at the back of your mind, as soon as they threaten to affect those around you.

"Where are you?" he asks as you hear shuffling from his end, "I'm coming to pick you up."

"You don't have to," you murmur, regret already welling up inside you. You should've stopped calling your brother when he didn't pick up the first time.

"You are uncomfortable. That's reason enough for me."

You attempt to contradict him, but the words dissolve in your mouth, swallowed back down your throat. There's something about Changbin's unwavering voice that makes you pause. You don't have the strength to contradict him.

"Okay, thank you," you exhale a ragged breath in relief. "I'll text you the address."

You hang up, leaving the bathroom you were hiding in and sitting in front of your date once again. They resume talking, but you tune them out, your thoughts solely revolving around Changbin- the way the planets rotate unwaveringly around the sun. His concern made a pleasing warmth seep through your heart, like a sun ray piercing through clouds after a gloomy day.

You dig your fingers into your palm, desperately trying to banish thoughts of him- just as you’ve been doing for the past few months.

You met Changbin before you knew he was your brother’s best friend. In the campus café, where he almost spilled his drink on you. You thought he was adorable, apologizing profusely to you, a faint pink hue tinting his cheeks. And then he bought you a cookie, three to be exact, because he didn’t know which flavor you’d prefer. A token of his remorse as he explained to you. He was a year older, and you found talking to him as natural as being with yourself.

But for some reason, your brain didn’t register that this was the Changbin your brother told you about. Until you’ve visited Han’s dorm for the first time and there he was, opening the door for you. Changbin was never yours to begin with, a reminder you continually admonish yourself with, but you still felt as if you lost him that day.

You knew it wouldn't be wrong, per se, to date him. But the potential confrontations that would unfold from it made you recoil into your hiding. Loving Changbin holds within it numerous uncertainties, and you cannot venture into the unknown, regardless of how much you yearn for it. For him.

“Yn!” a loud voice startles you, and you snap your head towards the entrance of the restaurant where you find Changbin. He’s clad in grey sweatpants and a snug black t-shirt, standing out like a sore thumb in the high-end restaurant. He didn't take the time to change, you realize, his sole focus on reaching you as quickly as possible.

"We have to go!" he says, as soon as he's in front of your table, and your date glances at you curiously.

"You do?" they ask and you chuckle nervously. "We do?" You didn’t think of an excuse as to why you needed to leave so suddenly, and you hoped Changbin did.

"Yes, come on," he urges, outstretching his hand toward you. "There is an emergency… You know, with Han, very urgent."

"Who's this? And who's Han?" 

"I already told you who Han is," you roll your eyes, grabbing Changbin’s hand and rising from your seat. "Maybe if you stopped talking about yourself for a second then you'd remember."

Changbin places a couple of bills on the table, a polite smile on his face. "For the dinner", he says, before pulling you outside with him.

"What was that?" you chuckle as soon as you're out. Changbin doesn't let go of your hand as you walk to his car, and you can't find it in you to drop it. 

"What?" he giggles, "did you not like my acting skills?"

"Did you have to shout my name from across the restaurant?" you playfully punch his shoulder and he feigns a wince.

"I had to be convincing," he nods solemnly, opening the door for you. His hand rests on the top of the car, ensuring you don't bump your head while getting in.

"Here," Changbin hands you a pair of slippers from the backseat, and you furrow your brows in confusion. "I assumed you'd be wearing heels and your feet are probably tired, so I brought you this," he explains, and you are suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the car that's hiding your crimson blush. 

"So, tell me, what did they do? Do I need to beat them up?" Changbin asks once more and you groan, leaning your head against the car window. 

"They're so... pretentious. The only thing they care about is themselves, their career and their achievements. They even tried to downplay mine so they'd feel better about themselves."

"It's their loss honestly, for wasting a date with someone like you." 

"You're the only one who thinks so," you smile sadly, trailing your fingers across your knee. 

"What do you mean?" he asks, turning his body around to give you his undivided attention. 

"This is my fourth bad date in a row. I think I'm just destined for horrible relationships," you try to joke, but it did weigh heavily on you. Was there something wrong in you that prompted everyone to treat you so lowly?

"You are very smart and witty and interesting. I like talking to you, especially about things you are passionate about. It's their loss for not seeing it. Doesn't mean you are any less incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine conviction.

A surge of emotion pulses through you, your heart beating wildly in your chest like a bird fluttering its wing to break free from its cage. You've always thought Changbin was all these things as well, but you never knew he held you with the same regard.

"Thank you," you beam at him, "for this and for coming to pick me up."

"Don’t mention it," he responds with a warm smile before sudden mischief dances in his eyes. "You know what? We should go on a date right now."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"A fake date," he clarifies and your heart chips a little more at your foolish hope. "So you'd see how well you deserve to be treated."

"You don't have to do that," you shake your head. 'You shouldn't do that', you wanted to add, 'it’s hard enough to forget about you'.

"I want to," he insists, his assurance evident in his smile. He leans in, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt, bringing his face mere inches from yours. His cologne envelops you, trapping you in a web carefully woven by him. It was unfair- for him to smell this nice and not be yours.

"You look pretty," he compliments, his penetrating gaze locked with yours as the seatbelt finally clicks into place.

"Is this how you start all your dates," you chuckle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"No, I'm just saying the truth," he replies simply, starting the car and resting his hand on the back of your headrest.

"So, what are you craving?" he asks, and you sigh in defeat.

"Can we have fried chicken?" 

"Of course, we can," he replies with a smile, shifting the car into reverse and leaving the parking lot.

•••••••••••

You hoped your time with Changbin would be horrible, you wished you’d feel bored or uncomfortable, just so it’d cement the idea that he wasn’t the one for you. But unsurprisingly, you had an amazing time. Your stomach ached from laughing so hard throughout the night, and there was a new found lightness in your steps as you walked around a picturesque garden.

You knew that you will revisit this night countless times, that you’d sift through every detail- every time your eyes met and every time you made him smile. That it’d keep you warm on cold nights when you’re all alone.

"Here," Changbin says, handing you a plucked rose. "You deserve a bouquet but I didn’t plan on this, I’m sorry," he smiles sheepishly and you giggle, taking it out of his hands.

"Thank you," you grin happily, before taking a step forward toward him. There, you tuck the rose behind his ear, smoothing down his hair in the process.

"I’m blushing, aren’t I?" he chuckles, bringing a hand to his flushed cheeks and you gleefully nod.

"You’re matching the rose," you point out and he shrugs happily. "Pink is my color."

You admired how Changbin didn’t shy away from his emotions, embracing them without reservation. It made you feel secure, in the sense where you’d never have to second guess his words and their truthfulness.

Changbin takes out his phone to play a soft melody, before putting it in his back pocket.

"Let's dance."

"Changbin..." you trail off. It feels bittersweet to get a taste of what you could have, of what you two could be. He'll move on, surely, going on real dates while you'd still be stuck on the way he makes you feel.

"It's part of the date package, come on." 

You sigh, before grabbing his hand in yours. They fit so naturally together, and you think you can easily commit the sensation to memory- the coldness of his palm and the callouses on his finger pads. With a few more holds, you're certain you could recognize his touch among a thousand others.

Changbin raises your free hand and places it on his shoulder, before holding your waist gently, swaying you from left to right.

Being with him felt like pressing on a blueish bruise, a pleasurable pain you would willingly endure to have him by your side. You're already in his arms, you told yourself. Maybe you should tune out the thoughts in your head berating you, and finally follow what your heart wants.

You suck in a deep breath, before tentatively leaning your head on his chest. He immediately brings his hand to your hair, smoothing it down gently. His chest is broad, serving as a shield for the delicate emotions flowing within him. Because Changbin is gentle with everything he does and everyone he meets. And you'd settle for this, for being his fake date if it meant experiencing his gentleness for the rest of your life.

"Can I tell you something?" you say after a while.

"Sure."

"I think this is the nicest date I've ever been on. I wish all of them were like this."

"They could be if you want to."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always liked you, yn. From the moment I’ve met you,” he confesses easily, and his words feel like the hands of an expert violinist, tugging at your vulnerable heartstrings.

He likes you, you aren't alone in this feeling, and for a second, raw happiness courses through you at this thought. But it's fleeting, like the sugar rush you'd get when you eat too much sweets. And so it naturally wears off, as the consequences of his words dawn on you.

"Changbin, we shouldn't," you shake your head vehemently and he frowns. "Why?"

"Because you're my brother's best friend." The excuse streams from your mouth instantly.

"But I'm still Changbin. Your Changbin if you'll have me," he adds softly.

"Han will find it weird, and if we don't work out then your friendship with him will become strained and-"

"Why are you thinking about everyone but yourself?" He interrupts. "Don’t you want this?" 

A few silent beats pass by, and Changbin doesn't stop swaying you around, his gentle place lulling your heart to calmness, clearing the foggy thoughts in your mind.

"I do," you finally admit, and a smile lightens up his face instantly. It's so bright that it makes you second-guess the words you're about to say. "But I don't want to risk our friendship too." 

"Love is a risk, I understand, I agree. But what's the alternative, yn? if it's not having you at all then I'd risk it," he drops your waist, his hands cradling your face tenderly. "You are worth the risk to me." 

You’ve stopped dancing, the music long forgotten by you. "You really think so?"

"I know so." 

"What if we things don't workout?"

"What if they do, hm? we can never really know until we try. And i want to try with you. Please, give us a chance?" he smiles at you, his vulnerability on full display. He's offering you his heart on a silver platter, not caring if you'll safely guard it or pierce it through, as long as it's yours.

You gaze into his warm brown eyes, before glancing at his tousled hair and the rose tucked behind his ear. And your fear doesn't matter anymore, not in the face of the man in front of you.

"You have amazing convincing skills. Have you ever considered being a diplomat?" you tease and his eyes widen slightly. "Is this a yes? are you saying yes?"

"I am," you giggle, an uncontrollable smile drawn on your lips. "And... I've always liked you too. I think Han might've suspected it because whenever I brought you up, he glared at me," you confess with a laugh, as Changbin presses a soft kiss on your wrist. Right where your pulse is. Beating wildly for him. 

"He’ll have to deal with it. Now tell me, is tomorrow at 6 pm good for you?"

"What for?" you giggle, as he waltzes you around once more, a cheeky smile adorning his face.

"Our first real date, of course.”

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Matching - Portgas D. Ace

Find more of my work here: Tumblr MasterList

This is a little idea I had for a larger Ace fanfic I'm working on. I might revise this! Please let me know if he's in character or not...I'm starting to have my doubts.

It had been the better part of a week. No, maybe a whole week at this point. While before you’d spend most of your free time around him, now you were constantly “busy.” Heck sometimes he even finds it difficult to find you on the Moby Dick! Was this the end of the honeymoon phase everyone warned him about?

Were you starting to get tired of him?

You kept sneaking around...without him! Before you used to sneak around together! Worse still is…every time he pops up to see you, you always seem like you're hiding something. It's like quickly stashed papers, and tightly clenched fists. It’s the way you spin on your heel, and tense up, when you used to not do that at all.

What was maddening was how when the evenings would hit, or even at random parts of the day, you’d run and crash into him with a huge hug. You’d beam at him bright and genuine just upon seeing him, heck you’d be practically vibrating with joy as you’d squeeze the life out of him. He’d almost turned to fire once.

Maybe you weren’t tired of him?

When you did cuddle with him, your eyes seemed to linger on the tattoo on his arm. He’d even woken up to you tracing it with your finger once before. You’d looked sheepish that he’d caught you admiring it…actually you looked a little…panicked too…

You’d squirmed in his grasp when he asked you about it. Saying things like how it’s pretty, and how it’s a tattoo unique to him, so you were admiring it. You're pretty good at dodging his line of questioning whenever he voices his suspicions about your behavior. You were also incredibly sneaky about distracting him with your affections, and by the time he’s regained his original line of thought, you’d already be gone. 

There's something fishy in the air and it's not the sea king he caught the other day.

He only finds out what it is you'd been scheming behind his back when he gets back from a mission. He was so distracted for most of it. He couldn’t figure out why you were so clearly avoiding him sometimes…were you having second thoughts? What was going on? Was this an elaborate prank?

He was still in a daze as he made his way back to the Moby Dick. You used to bring peace, yet right now you’d thrown him into turmoil. He hated the way he was doubting you. He hated not knowing what was wrong.

“Hey look Ace’s back!”

“How’d it go champ?”

“Aaaaaaacee!” It was your voice that pulled him back completely.

He’d barely had a moment to look up than you’d thrown yourself on him with a hug. The force of it all almost send him toppling backwards. His hat had been knocked off his head, and he could feel the press of its medallion on his throat. He's relieved at how genuinely happy you are to see him, yet still an unease twists up his stomach in knots.

You pull away much too quickly, pulling his arms and rotating them, checking for any damage. The way you're checking up on him to make sure he's not hurt and that he's okay floods his entire system with warmth. Yet he can't help the constriction in his chest and the nagging as to what it was that had you sneaking around before he left if you missed him this badly?

He can hear the crew laughing at the obvious display of affection.

“Being bold there little missy,” they taunt you.

You shrink in on yourself a bit, embarrassment catching up to you. However when you take his hand in yours, and whistles and cheers break out, “I was doing it for Ace,” the timidity in the lines of your shoulders and face brings the heat to his own face, “I thought he might like it.”

He squeezes your hand in his. Yet his brain screams at him, then what was all that sneaking around about?

Unsure how to deal with things, he just studies you closely as you ask him about how things went and how the mission was. You're not up to anything really, or at least it doesn't seem like it. You're as attentive and engaged as ever, things are just as they used to be before.

You drag him to the kitchen, knowing he must be hungry as he usually is after a mission. You even sit with him in your little corner of the mess hall while he eats, something you hadn’t done much prior to his departure. He's talking to you about the guy with the interesting abilities that he'd fought with his mouth full, and you're indulging him.

Yet even as he tries to fall into your old pattern, the confusion only festers further. What had been going on with you?

He feels absolutely awful, doubting you with the way you’re listening to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. To be fair, to you, he really is. He keeps talking and chewing and answering your questions, yet the thing he really wants to talk about is bubbling just below the surface. Somehow all the tension and excitement peaks and he goes head first into his plate of food.

When he finally comes back to, there’s no food on his face, and he’s resting on his arms on the dinner table, his plate off to his side. You’re still next to him, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, patiently de-tangling any clumps you come across. He groans while sitting up and blinking the sleep away.

“You’re up,” you observe aloud, “here let me clear these out of the way for you.”

You get up from beside him, unthinkingly pulling your sleeves up your forearms, and reach for the plates around him. He notices something odd about one of your hands as you walk away with the stack of plates in your hands, but before he can say much you're already on your way to the kitchen counter. He watches you, lethargically shoving food in his mouth as you hand the dishes over to Thatch, who looks at your hands, then looks his way for a moment with an amused grin.

He could actually hear the next thing as the cook raised his voice, “nah leave those dishes to me, go hang out with your loverboy.”

Had the pirate not shoved you away with a plate of food in hand, Ace got the feeling you would have pointedly ignored Thatch’s teasing to do the dishes. You walked back, your brow and lips pursed in a kind of indignation. He couldn’t help the little huff of amusement. You’d gotten much better at handling their teasing over time, but he wouldn’t deny it was cute how it would get to you sometimes.

You took a seat beside him again, sliding the plate the cook had given you towards him. Your…well he could only hope he was still really your beloved, just stared at you in silence as he chewed. For some reason it made you squirm.

That’s it. He’d had enough. He has to figure this out. You’d said it yourself, it’s really important to communicate things! That’s how relationships last!

“You’ve been real weird lately,” was what came out as he grabbed the new plate of food, “you been avoiding me?”

His brow furrowed at the way your gaze immediately fell, taking your expression with it, and how you began to fidget with your fingers - a nervous - wait. Ace’s hand extended to grab your left one, bringing it up to his face.

There on your left wrist, right where your pulse sat, in black ink sat the letters ASCE, arranged horizontally and smaller, but a perfect replica of his own otherwise. Instinctively he rubbed his thumb across it, almost as though he was checking to make sure this wasn’t an illusion and that wasn’t just normal ink from a pen.

You were looking back at him, he could see it in the way your shoulders bunched near your ears, and the wobble of your lips, and how you couldn’t keep eye contact for too long, but kept glancing back at him…you were nervous. He absentmindedly began drawing circles on your wrist, just staring at you.

“I was avoiding you, I guess,” you admitted, “I was hoping to surprise you with that,” your free hand moved to play with the hem of your shirt, as you shrunk even more, “was it presumptuous of me? Should I have asked first?”

“For a second I thought I’d managed to chase you away,” he admitted quietly, looking back down at the mark of permanence you’d etched into your skin, “that you’d gotten sick of me.”

You snatched your hand away before he could think, moving in to embrace him, “get sick, of you? Then I’d be a tasteless heathen or…whatever, unworthy of you- totally - completely - absolutely unworthy of you!”

Your arms tighten around him, “I’m so sorry I put you through that love.”

“All that sneaking around was for this tattoo?” He couldn’t help the involuntary little crack in his voice. “You really did surprise me darlin’.”

He pulls away from you first and his hands find your wrists, and his eyes again fall onto the symbol, the symbol of him, lovingly tattooed into your skin. A mark to let people know just who put the ring on your finger. 

He didn’t look up from it, even when you spoke up again, “Ace,” he just traced circles over the mark that sat proudly in bold black letters, “I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way - wait does that sound? It’s not-no wait. It’s my fault!” He glanced up at you for a moment as you struggled to put what you wanted to say into words, working strenuously to apologize sincerely.

His lips wobbled upwards.

He couldn’t help it.

You’d gone out of your way, to tattoo his mark onto your body. He couldn’t help but stare at it as he continued to rub circles with his thumb. Not only that, you were straining yourself so much all because he voiced that damned insecurity of his.

“I didn’t mean to put you through that?” You tried again. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I didn’t want to hurt you.” You paused, and he felt you move closer. “I’m sorry if what I did hurt you-no-I’m sorry that I did hurt you.”

There was a pricking at the corners of eyes, as he finally took his eyes off your little gift to him to look at you. There was a kind of relief, or maybe it was appreciation? Maybe even a tinge of surprise? He was touched, that was one thing he knew for sure-if the fire that burned in his chest was any indication. He was a sick bastard for appreciating this, wasn’t he? Seeing you so genuinely apologetic - it was alarming really, did he really deserve this apology when he was doubting you? How could he ever hope to compete with this?

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, doll,” his voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he continued to rub circles into your wrists.

“No I do,” you insisted, “Ace, I’m happy you’re communicating how you felt to me,” you responded quietly, but firmly, “so don’t downplay how it felt when I was the one being sneaky.”

“You didn’t mean any harm though,” his lips pull into a gentle smile as he slowly brings your tattooed pulse up to brush his lips against it before flicking his gaze to meet yours, “you were here prepping this lovely gift for me and I was only thinking of myself.”

A smirk tugs at his lips at the way you have to shake yourself out of whatever spell he’d placed you under, “just because I didn’t mean any harm, doesn’t mean I didn’t do any harm,” you press on, shuddering a bit when he brushes another kiss to your pulse, “if you did the same, I’d probably have felt the same way too, you have nothing to feel bad about.”

“Forgive me for doubting you, cariña?”

He almost laughs at the affronted look you give him, firing back a, “forgive me for hurting you, love?”

“Nothing to forgive,” he’s smiling more now, “I’m glad you were being so sneaky, made this surprise all the better.”

“Don’t downplay your feelings Portgas D. Ace,” he could hear your frown, “your feelings are important to me, you’re important to me.”

“My full name cariña?” He couldn’t help but tease.

“Yes,” you answered immediately and he looked up to see how upset you looked - it was almost annoying - he’d rather not dwell, “I want you to get just how upset you were off your chest.”

That got a chuckle out of him, despite the irritation that was rising.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” his smile fell for a moment, “I don’t want to ruin this happy moment with stupid emotions in the past.”

“But I don’t want them to fester-” 

“Mi amor,” he looked at you, almost pleading, “it’s true I felt like you were ignoring me, but seeing your little surprise makes me the happiest man on the five seas.”

Seems that was enough to quiet you. Though… “six, if you include the All Blue.”

When you chuckled at him, he felt his smile returning. He honestly couldn’t care less about the past. He’d said his piece, you’d talked it out, he didn’t care anymore.

“So, you know I love you right?” The timid way in which you asked was enough to knock the wind out of him.

Yet, he grinned, and brought your marked pulse up to lips again, “I love you too.”

“Oi get a room!” The two of you startled at the sudden shout coming from the other end of the mess hall. “Sure we can barely see you in your little corner, but the lovey-dovey energy in here is off the charts!”  

“Shut up Thatch!” Ace fired back. “You’re just mad you can’t gossip to Marco about it!”

“You’re the one blocking the show!”

“Good!”

“It’s real funny though,” there was a pause, “who’d have thought the wild Fire Fist was actually a huge pile of mush!”

With the newfound yelling, people started to file into the mess hall. Which was when he noticed it was mostly empty prior to that. Of course among the people who filed in was the aforementioned first division commander.

“You like your little surprise Ace?” He asked the younger man.

“Wait you knew?”

“Who else would she ask yoi?” The medic gave him a lazy grin before turning to you. “So, did you get to say what you wanted to say yoi?”

Ace studied you as you shook your head looking both disappointed and sheepish.

“What did you want to say?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You huffed, a sheepish smile wobbling your lips, as you moved to his left side, your right hand pushing his upper arm to show more of his tattoo.

"See,” you held up your own tattooed wrist next to his arm, “now we match."

Extra:

Ace later: “I’m gonna marry her.”

Marco (who is next to him): “aren’t you already married?”

[incorrectbatfam]

Wayne Tower yelp reviews pls (wrong answers ofc)

★★★☆☆ Disappointed but not surprised

Was invited to the Wayne Gala held at the Tower this year to accommodate special guests from the Justice League. Was photographed by reporter Clark Kent. Wanted to meet Superman but he didn't show up. Food and atmosphere was good. Got told off for swinging from the chandelier. Why have a chandelier if not for swinging?

★☆☆☆☆ Not even gonna dignify it with a title

I'd give zero stars if I could. The CEO is a massive fucking asshole. He's full of nothing but smooth-brained takes. He claims he'll be there when you need him but never shows up. And when you RIGHTFULLY resent him, he'll turn around and pretend YOU are the bad guy. That isn't even touching on his AUDACITY to replace you so soon after you leave. You think you know this man, you think you've grown to trust him, and then he goes and stabs you in the back. Believe me when I say RUN. Get as FAR away from this company and that bastard Bruce Wayne as you possibly can.

★★☆☆☆ SOS

I work here. Too many emails. Half the execs are Boomers who can't export a PDF. The break room is out of coffee. My dad won't stop visiting the office. When will the nightmare end???

★★★★☆ Imperfect but respectable

I had the opportunity to visit Wayne Tower on Bring Your Child To Work Day. The building is up to code and I was able to view all the health code certifications. I admire that Wayne Enterprises takes care of its employees by allowing ample vacation time, in-house daycare, and well-maintained recreation spaces. The cafeteria did not have as many vegetarian options as I would have preferred, but I have been informed that they operate on a rotating menu, so I shall revisit again next week and possibly amend my review. I would leave five stars but I ran into Tim Drake on the way out and that brought the whole experience down a notch.

★☆☆☆☆ No Chipotle

Was told there was a Chipotle here. Did not find Chipotle.

★★★☆☆ Badge entry didn't work

I'm on the night shift at the company's call center. One time I was already running late but for some reason I couldn't badge in. The janitor wouldn't let me through even though I had proof I was supposed to be here. Had to escalate to the CEO. Still better than working the Batburger drive-thru though.

★★★★★ Hi Dad

Hi Dad.

★★★★☆ Good but...

I love the bathrooms. They're easy to find and very accessible for a wheelchair user like myself. There's plenty of space for me to navigate and the products are top-notch, especially the hot towels. The toaster oven under the sink also doesn't make sense, but then again, my lockscreen is Nightwing so I can't judge.

★★☆☆☆ No cats allowed

I got written permission from the CEO himself to bring my cat to the office, but the doorman turned me away. Next time, there should be better communication between the employees.

★★★★☆ Rooftop makes for good date

I brought my girlfriend up here for our anniversary date. The building has a beautiful view of the city and the restaurant was great. The bread was a little dry, but nothing that a little butter couldn't fix. Unfortunately, she's an on-call detective and we had to cut our evening short, but that's not the staff's fault.

★☆☆☆☆ Got called Bri'ish

Someone called me Bri'ish.

[complete-clownery]

Human SWK and Mac for the soul

Long rant about the au idea ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Actually they're for my detective au I'm not really talking about but I do have this fun little animatic idea in my head to Michael Bublé - Better be tonight, where MK and Wukong beat up a lot of people behind the scenes in the bar while Macaque distracts the audience with a performance lol haha how silly of me

But yeah the au would be Wukong is a private detective who has already retired, and MK (a young detective working for the police (dw were all about acab here, so Mk would realize how shitty the police system is and leave)) would seek him out for help with a case about some underground Mafia business

(probably something I would do with LBD and the Demon bull family but who knows), and Wukong decides to help him MK and also just teach him stuff along the way while also guiding him away from the police force

(probably something something Wukong worked as a detective in there, jttw event converted into detective cases idk, celestials as the justice system ect ect),

but they would ultimately work together on the case and would cross paths with Macaque (who needs a proper human name) Wukongs former partner (partner as in work related business but yeah they were also fucking), who will probably stab them in the back at some point in the story LBD pressure and whatnot,

but yeah on normal days Mac works a shitty job in an office, but Wukong swears up and down that Mac is up to something shady (and he is kinda right) (also side note: every individual in the office regardless of gender has had an office crush on Macaque at some point lol)

Also Wukong when he worked at the police actually got himself quite the name and so people know about him, kinda was the face of the police force at some point, and MK decides to be a detective bc of Wukong, (but that was kind of a given, even tho in the show before getting his powers MK wasn't really interested in becoming a here and this was also a key plot point in season 4 MK not wanting to do all the crazy magic shit and wanting to go back to being just a delivery boy and sometimes beating up the eventual villain of the week, but whatevs)

They're in their 40s maybe early 50s but Wukong somehow still looks 20-30 years old nobody knows how he does it, everyone else is kinda the same age in the show

They're also in America for this cuz--- this is a 90s 80s detective show just because I want it to be--- how did the characters from China end up here idk :| something something emigration or maybe the au can stay in China idk man Im making up half of this as I'm writing but it's fun I like the rotate my little aus in my brain

But yeah its just a fun little idea in my head that is going to stay just that, never manifesting into something more

[fanaticsnail]

Okay, so I've been slowly working on 'The True Bride' retelling but lately I've been feeling run down and low. Babysitting 3 - THREE! - Duracell batteries (aka kids) leaves me very little brainpower or energy and the days I'm off... I just want to do nothing but rest and be a couch potato. I thought I'd send this little request this way, you know, legal channels and all that.

Could you do something fluffy and sweet (smut can also be added if you'd like!) with either Shanks or Sanji? I'd throw in Law but these two currently are taking all the brain space.

The way I cannot wait for your contribution to the Storyteller Au! It's gonna be so much fun! I feel you on the Duracell babies, my two have been off like a rocket from about 5am (as per the norm). Shanks was not cooperating, so Sanji gets some love this morning. May a little bit of suggestive, sweet domestic fluff ease the burden for you, love.

By Feel

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: You challenge Sanji to demonstrate his impressive knife skills for you by chopping up vegetables while blindfolded. He becomes flustered by the amount of attention you give to him.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, established relationship, domestic fluff, flirting, knife skills, kissing, blindfolded Sanji, flustered Sanji, suggestive ending.

As soon as the shroud covered Sanji’s eyes, all other senses were heightened. His nose pricked up with the fragrance of sweetness and spices, his tongue tasted the steam in the air wafting from the pan, his ears heard the rough pops and crackles rising in the pan from the contents being of an elevated temperature.

Most of all, his hands were hypersensitive to every soft ridge and divot in the chopping board in front of him, and his connection to his blade felt more sturdy and intentional in each motion. 

“Show me then, Chef,” you tease him, the playful tone in your voice propelling him to prove himself to you. He smirked and impressively twirled the blade in his hands before dropping it in the board. The knife stuck out and wobbled slightly beneath the light as Sanji sought out the carrots and his favored peeler with his fingers.

“Oh, I’ll show you alright,” he picked up one of the carrots in his hands and his peeler, “You watching closely?” Even without the blindfold, you could absolutely see the wink he shot your way beneath the material. 

Leaning forward on the bench, but still lingering far enough out of his way to continue, you witnessed him take the peeler with his dominant hand and wave it backwards and forwards along the length of the carrot. Each moment the blade end of the peeler almost reached his palm, he instinctively knew when to draw it away. Rotating the carrot within his fingers, he continued to drag it back and forward until he felt the flesh of the carrot glisten its dewy juices in his hand.

“Still watching?” he teased at you, his fingers hastily collecting all of the lengthy offcuts of the bitter skin and sliding it into the scrap bin beside the sink. You rolled your eyes before giving him a soft, “Uh huh,” in response. He smiled, shaking his head and collected his blade from beside him: still in the place where he left it.

“Alright then,” he scoffed, his light chuckle found in his tone, “Doubting me?” You shook your head at him, more to scold than to doubt him. 

“No doubts, Chef,” you slowly walk behind him, Sanji’s ears picking up and hearing the soft taps of your shoes on the wooden surface behind him. “Never doubted you to begin with.” As you slowly approach behind him, your hands reach out to collect his hips in your hands. He hissed a soft breath through his teeth and threw his head back as your hands caressed his skin. 

“You gonna let me show you what I can do?” he gasped, his breathing heavy as your hands teased at the waistband of his pants, “Or are you going to distract me on purpose?” You hum a soft chuckle through your lips before placing a soft kiss on his spine. He moaned at the softest touch, the deep rasp in his throat coming out with his breath hitching. 

“I won’t distract you. I just wanted to take a closer look,” you admit, looking down his arms from your position over his shoulder. He gulped his nerves, instinctively leaning his head away from your face in the hopes for more brushes of your lips on his skin. You laugh tight-lipped through your nose at him before tapping his hips to draw his attention back to the task. 

“Okay,” he uttered snarkily, twirling the blade and seeking out the carrot once more. Lining it up with the tip, he exhaled a huff of breath before immediately rocking his arm back and forward, slicing the carrot first into a long, rectangular shape. The ‘shinkt,’ sound of the blade colliding with crisp flesh at a hastened pace had you arch your brow, still watching intently as he expertly placed hasty ridges into the carrot. 

Turning the orange object, he began slicing the vegetable at a different angle. The diagonal cuts never tapped the board, holding it a whisker’s length away from the base of the carrot. As soon as he reached the tip once more, he turned in your arms with the rectangular carrot in his hands. Your hands never left his hips, holding him steady as he gave you a cocky smirk. 

“Watching closely?” he whispered to you. You hum in confirmation at him as you look at the orange figure in your hands. Drawing apart his hands, the length of the carrot extended into a lace pattern. The carrot was still intact, but the knife skills demonstrated by the blonde created a webbed net from the vegetable as he held his arms out to the side. 

His grin only broadened when he heard your gasp, your hands gripping his waist tighter in awe caused a rosy blush to rise in his cheeks. With the blindfold still fixed over his eyes, he lowered his hands with the vegetable reforming into a rectangle. 

“Something you wanna say to me?” his brow arched up under the shroud of the mask. You lean up on the tips of your toes and brush your nose with his. He gasps at you, fluttering his eyelashes beneath the woven material. 

“You are the best chef in the world, and can even craft mastery blindfolded,” you dull your tone, mocking his voice with a smile on your lips. He scoffs at you, moving his head away from yours and purses his lips up in a light pout. You giggle, reaching up to cup his cheek and turn his head back to face you. 

“You don’t have to make petulant bets to prove anything to me. I already think you’re amazing, Sanji,” you press your lips to his unoccupied cheek, your sweetness igniting a swell of heat pooling in his face and almost burning your lips with the intensity. Giggling against his cheek, you pulled away to witness him freeze in place with his lips parted. 

No matter how long the two of you had been together, it never ceased to make you smile with the amount of fluster you could bring to your partner. A simple touch, a soft caress, a gentle compliment all had that soft hue rise to his face, and you couldn't get enough of it.

“Th-Thank you,” he stuttered, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back his nerves. You decide to press him further, enjoying his light fluster. 

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you praise up at him, hovering your lips over his and tasting the warmth of his sweet air, “Show me what else you can do just by feel, hm?” He immediately whimpered, placing the carrot down behind him as he hastily reached for you and surged his lips forwards to engulf your own in them. 

His kiss was raw, intense and desperate. Lips mouthing and swirling against your own, hungry to consume all you had to offer him in the kitchen space of the Going Merry. The shroud over his eyes had him feel everything: the taste of your lips, the scent of your perfume, the sound of your soft moan, and the feel of your eager reciprocation. He simply couldn't get enough.

Reaching up, he carded his fingers over the back of your scalp and cradled your neck to deepen the intensity. Each press of his lips, swirl of his tongue, and whimper you collected from his mouth within yours had you smile and balance his expression. The flicker of his tongue brushing against yours had the softest taste of metal lingering from his frenulum piercing. The balled circlet brushed against you as he performed his sensual isolation, consuming you entirely.

Pulling away and panting briefly, he finally removed the blindfold to take you in. His eyes were glazed and glassy, lips bruised and swollen, and cheeks dusted with the frosting of a bright pink. Gently caressing your cheek with his palm and fingertips,he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. 

“Satisfied?” he chirped breathily at you. You chuckled back up at him, nuzzling against his forehead before pulling away to gaze into his eyes. 

“Hardly,” you smiled, “But there’s a remedy for that. Your quarters or mine?” He replaced his forehead with his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin while muttering his suggestion. 

“Yours.” 

“Perfect,” you quipped at him, reaching down and taking him by the hand, “Bring the blindfold, but finish what you're cooking in the pan first before it burns.”

"Yes, boss," he uttered snarkily, quickly turning to finish off searing the vegetables and placing it in a pot to simmer low and slow with a variety of meat. His anticipation only grew when he heard every slow and deliberate step taken towards the door.

Hastily completing his duty, he rushed to your side and eagerly followed you like a needy pup towards your quarters, where he showed you exactly what he could do by feel alone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

OKAY IVE GOT A REALLY CHAOTIC IDEA THATS BEEN ROTATING IN MY BRAIN FOR AGES BRJDFIF

M6 sharing a living space - and I’m not talking one of Nadia’s palaces where they can avoid each other, but like, a tiny safe house or something like that

Imagine the chaos 😭

Vesuvia Weekly: A Date With Disaster

"So, it's settled, then." You stand up and dust off your hands. "We're ... going camping ... all seven of us ... together ... in one tent."

"It would seem so." Nadia looks down her nose at her tea in poorly concealed disgust. "I'll make a note to bring a fair amount of wine."

"Can you double that?" Asra asks from the floor. Muriel, sulking in the corner nearby, seems seconds away from breaking his characteristic silence to ask if the amount could be tripled.

"C'mon, Noddy, nobody likes a party pooper!" You can see the bead of sweat trickling down Lucio's temple, but you appreciate his skewed levels of optimism for once. Portia takes her cue from him.

"Yeah, this isn't all bad! We can bring snacks, and games, and - ooh! I call sleeping next to MC!"

"Pasha, noooo ~" You don't think you've ever heard Julian sound so whiny in your life, but nothing brings out someone's inner child like the person they grew up with. "I wanted to sleep next to MC."

"You can always take their other side -"

"I'm calling it." Asra grins smugly up from Nadia's carpet. The Countess in questions meets their eyes with a sly smirk.

"If I recall correctly, you and our darling MC have been sharing sleeping arrangements for the last several years at least. I shall occupy their other side."

Asra shrugs. "Fine. I'll be their pillow, then."

"WHAT -" Lucio screeches. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Muriel silently holding the door open for a speedy escape. The two of you slip out practically unnoticed, just as you catch the tail end of Julian's demands.

"In that case, I volunteer to keep their feet warm -"

You glance up at the silent shadow next to you as he guides you through the fastest route out of the Palace.

"Did you have any requests?"

"Me?" He looks down at you in surprise, and then turns away with a pout. "No. I'll be sleeping across the door."

You laugh. "So you can be the first to escape?"

He shakes his head as you part ways. "So I can keep guard."

Well, you think, here goes our date with disaster -

----------------------------------------

Notable highlights of the trip:

Lucio figured out how to grill meat over the fire on his metal hand. He did not figure out how to wash the residue off

Everyone discovered Julian's fear of the dark as soon as Nadia turned off the last lantern and he immediately latched onto your feet, causing you to reflexively kick out and accidentally igniting a short, tent-wide wrestling match

Portia brought so much homemade food you were almost tempted to stay an extra day and finish it all. You did not.

Nadia's insomnia made a fierce comeback as soon as she was sleeping in a flimsy bag with cloth for walls and uneven ground underneath. She was very grumpy and uncharacteristically disheveled in the morning

Muriel accidentally stumbled on a lost baby squirrel, which promptly imprinted on him and followed him around everywhere. Portia and Lucio both threw whining fits when he couldn't force it to like them or willingly sit in their hands

Asra "accidentally" tripped Lucio right next to a cold, muddy spring and then so happened to have a change of clothes in his size - which is to say, an adult-sized goat onesie. They also had onesies for everyone else, including a puppy one for you!

[queenburd]

The use of color in The Stanley Parable: HD and Ultra Deluxe (with honorable mentions to the Demo)

dedicated to @squuote who needs more TSP analysis to rotate

A little over a year ago, I (only somewhat jokingly) lay out the argument that while The Stanley Parable is notorious in its use of yellow, the color yellow is not actually associated to the Narrator. The color most associated with him, I argued, was red. [1, 2]

I've had plenty of thoughts regarding color and TSP in the interim and I want to go over those thoughts today in as much depth as I can manage. You know, for fun. None of this is to argue about creator intent, but it's a fun way to stretch the critical thinking and literary analysis portions of my brain. It's also super cool if you don't agree with my readings, since the point is to get you thinking about these things and studying them to interpret for yourself.

Anyway let's gooooooo

(note: all images are embedded with a link to the source page I pulled them from. For those on mobile, be careful with your scrolling and tapping!)

Yellow

Okay let's start with the “obvious” one. Yellow is seen as one of the main colors in the game, it's the color of the main office and the primary assets associated with the Parable. We see yellow PRIMARILY in the beginning of the office, before the two doors room. It lines the cubicles and the walls are often interpreted as yellow (eh, they're more of an off-white. They're actually absorbing color from the brown-yellow carpet, and they do the same in the lounge).

It's the color of the Line(TM), it's the color of the cargo lift in the warehouse, and, most strikingly, it's the color of the SKIP Button.

We'll get to you.

Okay, so yellow is a color with conflicting interpretations, which is par for the course for all of them, we're not going TOO insane on color theory and color psychology we will be here ALL DAY and I was an ART student. So let's just look at the most basic reading. Bright, oversaturated yellow is a color that can exhaust the eyes easily. It grabs our attention like a highlighter and burns our retinas.

It can be a color of excitement, but it can also be a color of sickness. I've been thinking about the short story The Yellow Wallpaper the past couple days. Or maybe I've been thinking about it for longer. It's just that I haven't reread it in actual years, but every time I saw someone talk about the wallpaper in TSP, I thought about the story. Here's some passing thoughts on the short story in comparison to TSP. [3]

Sickness, and madness, and beginnings, and infinity. In the end, yellow, to me, is the color of the Parable grabbing the player (and by extension the Narrator) by the nose and saying “let's get moving. We have a story to play. Play the game, and keep playing.” Notable to me is how the SKIP button is almost scathingly yellow in contrast to the room it's in, and as the room gets darker the glow gets more foreboding. The Parable did this. The Narrator might think he made it, but he doesn't control it. Yellow isn't his color, and it never was.

Red

“Stanley walked through the RED. DOOR.”

The use of red in TSP is probably the most interesting and fun to analyze for me. It's used extremely intentionally and it's commonly associated with power, anger, and passion. We see red in the Boss's Office, in the Countdown ending, as the door to the Starry Dome, and a TON in the TSP2 Expo. There's red doors and signs in the Escape Pod Bay.

So I've joked that the color red is the Narrator's color, and while it's still a fun interpretation, it's not one I'm married to. I think it's more accurate to say red symbolizes control. The Zending Door is you letting him control the story. The Countdown screens are him taking control from you. And TSP2 is the Narrator trying to exert control over what the developers have made. It's a response to New Content and to the SKIP button. I have a million trillion thoughts about the TSP2 Expo but I won't get into them here.

Anyway, red feels very obviously to me associated with the Narrator trying to take control, or things only being possible when he has control. I'm thinking about the signs in the Escape Pod Bay telling you that it won't work without him. (I'm thinking about how the same door asset for the Zending is used in the Escape Pod Bay. No. shhh. Staying on topic.) So I don't have much more to say on the matter because I feel like I've tread this ground before. Red is about control, and it is held in direct contrast with blue.

Blue

Oh, blue. Soothing blue, sweet relaxing lounge and ocean paintings and boss's bathroom and blue door that leads to broken textures and an irritable Voice.

If red is the color of control, then blue is the color of rebellion. Small rebellion, sure. Rebellion that means nothing in the scheme of things. Blue is the stepping stone to bigger deviations from the path. I mean, the lounge is only the first step to the right, and you can still get on the “correct” path. The blue door you have to go through repeatedly, you have to make the choice multiple times, for it to lead to the Games ending. The boss's bathroom doesn't GO anywhere until after the epilogue. These are “rebellious choices” in a game where you don't really have a choice, and it's the closest you get to defiance.

I like to make it Stanley's favorite color for obvious reasons.

(Hey, fandom, why you keep associating it with the Curator? The only blue in the Museum is in a couple assets on display.)

Green

I gotta admit, while there's definitely something to green and its use in TSP, a clear meaning for it is eluding me, and I've been thinking about it on and off for a couple days now. It's a fairly infrequent color in TSP as a whole, but it does make an appearance. Besides being the color of plants (such as the ever important fern, the potted plants scattered through the office and the ones in the TSP2 expo, and of course the growth in the SKIP button room), it's also the wallpaper in the Demo, and the same wallpaper is used in the Boss's Office in the Real Person Ending. Thinking further, it also appears in the small room before the stage in the Press Conference Ending, and it's the color of the carpet in the HL2 Office that is found under the Games ending. (It was also brought up by my pal glitch that green is the color of the cursor on Stanley's screen, the first thing you see before gameplay begins. Good catch!)

Thinking about it, it's hard to find a throughline. There's something familiar about the green. Not necessarily safe, but it usually comes before something much bigger. Maybe this is a bit of a stretch, though. Let's say for now green is associated with the familiar in the face of the unfamiliar.

(There's possibly a thesis here about green being associated with gifts and surprises. The Narrator makes the Press Conference ending something that teases but also praises Stanley, the Green Room in the Demo is the space where the Demo is meant to be revealed to you, and that alternate Boss's Office is supposed to, in the Narrator's mind, be the first step to a wonderful story made just for you.)

White

Most people, when they think of white in The Stanley Parable, immediately think of the Museum. And they're right to! It's one of the most prominent environments that uses white. With that in mind, we can't forget the other places it appears, since it's best to keep everything in mind when trying to formulate a meaning for it.

So, other places where white is prominent: We have the out-of-bounds ending, and the Art ending (aka play that Baby game for four hours). We also have a massive part of the TSP2 expo.

Honestly, there is a lot of white in the rest of the office, but it tends to be absorbing the colors of the environment in ways that make it less noticeable. White's really good at that, which means the times where it's by itself as the outstanding color are outliers and feel intentional. So what do these things have in common?

Well, they kind of show the seams of the game? Take this with a grain of salt, but the Museum is designed to show you some of the design process for the game, effectively taking you out of the setting to give you a top-down perspective (hehe, literally in the case of the diorama of the office up to the two doors), and the out-of-bounds ending is a joke about breaking the map, falling out of the world , which can break immersion in other games. The TSP2 Expo is the Narrator showing off all the features for his sequel idea, giving a “sneak peek” of what will be included.

The Art ending doesn't fit with this thesis, but it does involve the... revelation, I suppose, of the “character” of the Essence of Divine Art. What I'm trying to get to is that white is a color of revelation and display.

Gray

Gray is not a color that tends to stand on its own merit in The Stanley Parable, and that in itself is intentional. Gray is used as a texture of “unfinished” things, things the Narrator doesn't want you to look closely at, and would prefer you move past Right Now Right This Second Please.

It's the walls of the Broom Closet, as well as the walls of the maintenance room. It's also the walls of the room right outside the Starry Dome—the hall that leads right to the stairs. (Honorable mention, @chirpbudgie brought up that the desks in the office are gray, which is also an implication of the way Stanley's coworkers seemed to disappear with work unfinished. There is a sense of “wrongness” in how they've all vanished. Nice eye, bud.)

You're not supposed to dwell in these places. Go back to the story, please!

Black

“Blackness, and a rising chill of uncertainty. Was it over?”

Last and least is black, less used as a color in its own right and more a use of shadow. It really stars primarily in the Mind Control Facility, dark rooms with a sense of foreboding. Honestly, what is there to say about black?

Only, I tell a lie. You see quite a lot of black in this game, don't you? After all:

It's the Loading screen.

Blackness is uncertainty, and mystery, like the game tells us, because anything could be hiding in the darkness, and anything could happen when that screen is finished loading. It's white's opposite not just in value but in meaning. You don't know what's going on, you just have to wait and see. Any time you might have an answer, or an ending, here comes that loading screen to wipe the slate clean and say “hey, what haven't you found yet? What haven't you tried? What tricks does this game still have up its sleeve?”

(And now I'm thinking about the Figurines ending, and how the Narrator shouts to stop the loading screen, to go back and stay in the familiar please!! Because the fellow hates uncertainty, really he does. But that's a thesis for another day.)

(We also can't forget that Ultra Deluxe's Setting the Time is also set on a black background, and there's always, to me, a sense of foreboding and uncertainty there too. What happens after this is the game, right? Is this for something? Is this doing anything? Is it changing anything?)

Silver

It's a bucket :)

Okay that's the end of this post. There's probably plenty more to say about this subject, this isn't exhaustive by any means. Color is an incredible tool, and visual storytelling and color interpretation is not in any way a science. As I posted bits of this in my server for extra feedback and examples of color, other folks brought up an entirely different interpretation of the color green. And I didn't even bring up Mariella being dressed in full green!

Anyway I didn't bring up orange because there's only a couple instances of it in the game but its always about unfinished things/assets (Baby game, just a lot of Games ending things) but it also shows up in the TSP2 Expo (Button That Says The Name of the Player Playing The Game (Jim)) for features that uuuuuh. Aren't done. So that's funny.

Like I said, there's almost certainly more to say about color theory and the game, but this thing is hitting 4 pages long and that's not including images oops.

I hope this was a fun read! Some of this stuff has been percolating in my brain for a while and it's good to finally get it on the page. Talk to me about TSP I love this game.