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hainge · 3 months ago

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Women in male fields

kaiser x fem!reader summary: You and Kaiser share a home and an almost dangerously close friendship, built on endless teasing, playful banter, and moments that toe the line between affection and annoyance. One evening, you decide to mess with him just for fun, setting off a chaotic back-and-forth that leaves him suffering and you very entertained. warnings: none word count: 3.7k

You and Kaiser had been friends for what felt like forever, so close that sharing a home wasn’t just convenient, it was natural. There was an ease between you, the kind built on years of stolen hoodies, late-night talks that stretched until dawn, and bickering over the dumbest things only to make up minutes later.

He had a way of getting under your skin, testing your patience just as much as he made you laugh. But despite the teasing, despite the constant push and pull, there was something almost intimate about it, like an unspoken understanding that, no matter what, you were his person just as much as he was yours. ————————————————————————

After a long and draining day at work, you had barely settled in when, not even half an hour later, the sound of the front door unlocking broke the quiet. The rhythmic clatter of keys against the wooden surface was a familiar one, signaling Kaiser’s return from yet another gruelling soccer practice. He barely hesitated before stepping inside, exuding an air of casual confidence that seemed permanently woven into his very being. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted with ease, his voice carrying that characteristic lilt of amusement, as if everything he said had the potential to turn into a joke at any given moment.

“Sup,” you replied absentmindedly, your focus largely absorbed by the university project displayed on your MacBook’s screen.

He took a few steps closer, his gaze lazily drifting toward your notebook before tilting his head in mild curiosity. “What are you up to?”

You sighed, the exhaustion pressing down on you far more than you would have liked to admit. “Another project,” you muttered, the weight of academic obligations evident in your tone. Rather than responding, Kaiser simply hummed, a soft, almost contemplative sound, before, without any warning, he let himself collapse onto the couch beside you, resting his head on your thighs with the kind of familiarity that came from years of shared space and blurred boundaries. His hair was still damp with sweat, strands sticking out messily in every direction, and despite the usual sharpness of his features, there was a certain weariness in his expression, as though the day had drained him more than he cared to acknowledge.

“Sounds boring,” he remarked, his voice muffled slightly against the fabric of your jeans, his presence a heavy but not unwelcome weight on your lap.

“You should shower first, you stink,” you retorted, though there was no real bite to your words, only the resigned acknowledgment of his less-than-ideal post-practice state.

“Aww… Do I really?” he drawled, lifting his head just enough to glance up at you, his lips curving into a faux pout as he fixed you with a pair of exaggeratedly mournful eyes, as if your words had delivered a fatal wound to his fragile ego.

“A little,” you admitted, “but your cologne is saving you.”

That, apparently, was all the encouragement he needed to launch into a theatrical display of exaggerated offence. With a dramatic flourish, he placed a hand over his forehead, exhaling as though you had gravely insulted not just him but his very existence. “Oh my! How cruel… I am wounded,” he lamented.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you warned, unwilling to entertain his theatrics for too long.

Kaiser groaned—long and exaggerated, as if the very act of standing was a punishment in itself—but, eventually, he pushed himself upright, stretching lazily before making his way toward the bathroom. Just as you thought you had won, however, he paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk that could only mean trouble.

“Come with me” You shot him an unimpressed look. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

“But you don’t have to be my girlfriend to shower with me,” he countered, delivering the statement with such casual ease that, for a split second, it almost sounded like a perfectly reasonable argument.

You scoffed, unimpressed by his audacity, though you should have known better than to expect any different from him.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before,” he added, his smirk deepening, his tone laced with unmistakable amusement. He was enjoying this far too much.

And unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. You had, in fact, seen him naked on multiple occasions, not in any scandalous context but simply as a byproduct of sharing a home with someone who had an utterly ridiculous tendency to walk out of the bathroom in all his bare-skinned glory, completely indifferent to concepts like modesty or personal boundaries.

“And do you know why?” you shot back, your expression caught somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement. “Because you have this stupid habit of leaving the bathroom naked.”

Kaiser merely grinned, utterly unrepentant, as if he took great pride in being a perpetual source of your frustration. He chuckled softly, clearly amused by your words. Leaning against the doorframe, he crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk playing at his lips as he watched you. “Stupid manner? Well, I just like walking around naked.”

“To show off, obviously.”

You barely glanced up from your MacBook, but the sarcasm in your voice was unmistakable. “I mean, we get it. You’ve got that deep, philosophical tattoo about how nothing is impossible, big muscular thighs, nice biceps, a strong back, defined abs, a dick, blah blah blah. Yes, message received loud and clear.”

“Aww, you know my body by heart.”

His tone was dripping with amusement, fully revealing in teasing you. He thrived on moments like these, on pushing just enough to see how flustered you’d get. And, of course, he was undeniably proud of his physique, always finding ways to show it off, whether by casually strutting around the apartment naked or wearing obscenely tight shirts that left nothing to the imagination. “You can find all that information on Google.” “Oh? And did you look it up?”

His smirk deepened, eyebrows raising slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest, exuding confidence. He was such a menace when he got like this.

“No. One day…you came up to me and started reading your own article out loud, don’t you remember?”

He let out a low laugh, a soft hum of acknowledgment as he tilted his head slightly, recalling the memory. “That’s right… and you were blushing, just like you are now.”

Without a second thought, you grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “Go wash yourself, your ass stinks”

“Ouch…”

Michael groaned dramatically but quickly recovered, scooping up the pillow and tossing it right back at you with a playful flick of his wrist. “Fine, I’m going. And my ass smells like baby powder!”

At last, he disappeared down the hallway, and for a blissful fifteen minutes, peace finally returned. ————————————————————————

When he reappeared, freshly showered, his hair was still damp, stray droplets trailing down his neck. A towel hung loosely around his shoulders as he made his way into the kitchen, where you were already preparing dinner. Without hesitation, he walked up beside you, absently drying his hair as he observed you cooking.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slipped his arms around you from behind, pulling you into a loose embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder. His body was warm, fresh from the shower, and the scent of his cologne lingered faintly beneath the crisp, clean fragrance of soap.

“I’m hungry,” he murmured against your skin, voice slightly muffled.

You nudged him away with your elbow. “Patience.”

He let out a dramatic whine but refused to move, clinging onto you like a petulant child. “Can’t I have a little snack?” He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply. Your perfume mixed with the aroma of the food, and he exhaled in quiet satisfaction. “You’ll ruin your appetite.” “Says who?”

His tone was smug, defiant, and before you could respond, he began pressing soft, lingering kisses against the side of your neck, his lips barely ghosting over your skin.“I have a big appetite after practice.”

Without even sparing him a glance, still entirely focused on the food in front of you, you simply lifted a hand and placed your palm flat against his face, pushing him away with a firm but effortless motion. It was a casual, almost indifferent gesturing. Michael let out a muffled grumble of protest but didn’t immediately retreat. Instead, he paused, staring at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly contemplating his next move.

He groaned softly, clearly displeased that you had pushed him away. Michael was clingy on a normal day, but after practice? He was unbearable, needy, whiny, and entirely convinced that his exhaustion entitled him to unlimited affection. “You’re so mean,” he muttered, voice carrying the weight of his fake suffering.

Of course, he knew there was nothing he could say to change your mind, so instead, he simply huffed like an oversized child and resumed clinging to you, resting his head on your shoulder once more.

But when you reached for something on the counter, you pushed him away again,just briefly, just enough to get what you needed. And if looks could kill, the one he gave you would’ve sent you straight to the afterlife.

Michael stared at you like a puppy that had just been abandoned in the rain. It was pathetic. He was not fond of being separated from you, not even for practical reasons. If it were up to him, he’d stay attached to you like a koala, but unfortunately for him, you had things to do.

He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, as if you had truly wounded him, before slumping against the counter. His damp blue locks clung messily to his forehead, still dripping slightly because, of course, he never dried his hair properly.

“Make the sauce”

“Wha?—”

“Make the sauce. Mushroom sauce. Go.”

Michael blinked but hummed in acknowledgment, dragging himself upright. He made a bit of a show of gathering the ingredients, and for once, he actually looked serious as he focused on mixing everything together. Cooking wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but he still put in the effort, stirring with an almost thoughtful expression. And damn it, he looked cute like this, when he was concentrating, when he wasn’t actively being a menace, when he was just… trying. Once he was done, he turned to you, holding up the bowl like he was offering some kind of sacred treasure.

“Did you season it?” He nodded, waiting for your approval. It was almost embarrassing how much he wanted some praise. In reality, he was actually a little nervous, knowing full well that his cooking skills were subpar at best. “Yeah, I did…” You dipped a finger into the sauce and gave it a quick taste. After a moment, you nodded. “It’s nice.” Michael practically beamed. He was so easy to please, it was ridiculous. Just those two words were enough to make him light up like he had just won some kind of award. But of course, this was Michael Kaiser, which meant that the moment wouldn’t stay innocent for long. He stepped a little closer, smirking in that way that usually spelled trouble. “So does that mean you’ll give me a little reward—” “No.” His face immediately dropped into a pout, and he leaned against the counter like you had just crushed his dreams.“Come on… just one reward. Just a small one.” You sighed. He wasn’t going to drop this. “Fine. What do you want?” A victorious gleam flickered in his eyes as he looked at you, a cheeky expression taking over his features. Before you could react, he gently took hold of your wrist, pulling you just a little closer.

“A kiss.” You didn’t even hesitate. “Hell no. Not happening.” Michael huffed, clearly frustrated at your immediate rejection. But instead of letting go, he simply switched tactics, his other arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you even closer, now properly trapping you against the counter. “Why not?” His voice dipped into a whine, like you had just denied him something of grave importance.

“You came from practice and immediately gave me a headache.” Michael gasped, an actual dramatic gasp, as if you had just accused him of treason. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression hovering between mock offence and amused disbelief. Of course, he wasn’t actually hurt. He was used to your sass. But he did love to act offended, mainly because he knew it annoyed you. “I gave you a headache? All I did was ask for a little kiss…” With a dramatic flourish, he placed a hand over his chest, exuding pure theatrical devastation.

Ah, yes. Michael Kaiser, award-winning actor of the century.

You could already feel the eye roll forming. You sighed, shaking your head at his dramatics before finally relenting.“Come here.” Michael’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, his eyes glinting with pure mischief. Oh, he knew he had you wrapped around his little finger. Without hesitation, he stepped toward you, exuding that signature confidence that made you simultaneously want to punch him and, well, not punch him.

He stopped right in front of you, tilting his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Finally realized that I’m too handsome to deny anymore, huh?” With an air of self-assurance, he closed his eyes, already anticipating his reward, a kiss, a soft peck, some form of affection to stroke his already enormous ego, instead, you shoved a carrot into his mouth.

The moment it registered, Michael’s entire demeanor shattered. His smirk disappeared so fast you swore you heard it shatter like glass. His eyes shot open, staring at you with pure betrayal, as if you had just personally ruined his entire existence. He tried to speak, but the carrot blocked his words, reducing them to a muffled, indignant sound And you? You just laughed. Michael swallowed the carrot with exaggerated difficulty, scowling the entire time. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before fixing you with a sulky stare. “What was that for?!” You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in and pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

His scowl faltered. For a moment, he just blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift from ultimate betrayal to unexpected affection. His lips parted slightly, as if searching for something clever to say, but all he managed was a mumbled, “That’s unfair…”

And just as he was processing it, as you turned around to resume cooking, he grabbed your hips and yanked you back toward him. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t in the mood to entertain his antics. Without even glancing back, you heartlessly shifted your hips, sending a very well-placed, very intentional hit to his crotch. Michael gasped.

A strangled noise left his throat as he doubled over slightly, one hand bracing against the counter, the other instinctively reaching down to his now aching groin. “Ow—! O-ow, f—fuck…” He groaned, his forehead momentarily pressing against the cool surface of the counter as he tried to process the betrayal(second betrayal of the night, if we’re keeping count). When he finally looked up, his blue eyes burned with a mix of pain, irritation, and disbelief. “You ass… fuuuck…” Meanwhile, you? Completely unbothered.

You simply hummed a tune under your breath, swaying your hips slightly as you focused on finishing dinner, as if you hadn’t just committed a full-fledged war crime against his lower half.

Michael took a deep breath, still rubbing at the pain, his cheeks slightly flushed, whether from embarrassment or the sheer audacity of what had just happened, he wasn’t sure. “You’re so damn cheeky…” he grumbled.

“Set the table.”

He opened his mouth, ready to protest, ready to argue, to demand justice for the brutal attack he had just suffered. But then… he just sighed. Fine. Whatever. He would let you win this time.

With a lingering grimace, he slowly straightened up, still rubbing at the residual pain as he begrudgingly made his way to the table, muttering something under his breath that was probably not very kind. Minutes passed, and Michael sat at the table, sulking, waiting, his patience wearing thinner by the second. Then, finally, you approached with his plate in hand, placing it in front of him. His irritation? Instantly forgotten. The moment his eyes landed on the food, they widened slightly. His mouth watered a little as he took in the sight, the aroma filling the air. “…Is that for me?” he asked, hopeful, his tone softer now. You sighed, placing the dish in front of him. “I decided to be nice today and make one of your favourites.” Michael visibly perked up, his earlier grumpiness melting away in an instant. His eyes practically sparkled as he stared at the plate, his pride momentarily replaced by something softer, something genuine. “…You’re forgiven for earlier.”

With that, you sat down and started eating, leaving Michael to stare at you for a moment longer before finally digging into his food, completely, blissfully satisfied.

Michael ate like a man on the brink of starvation, practically inhaling the food with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t seen a proper meal in weeks. His fork scraped against the plate, his bites were large, and honestly, if you weren’t used to him by now, you might’ve been concerned. He hummed in satisfaction, clearly pleased with himself. “This is good. Thanks.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was the clinking of utensils against plates. Every now and then, he’d glance at you, just quick, fleeting looks, but he was too preoccupied with stuffing his face to say much else. Eventually, after clearing his plate like it was his last meal on Earth, he leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach with a sigh of pure contentment. “That was really good,” he admitted, looking at you with a small, satisfied smile. “I forgot how much of a good cook you are.”

You returned his gaze with an equally calm expression. Then, without so much as a blink, you spoke. “I put laxatives in it because you haven’t shitted in three days.” …

Silence. …

Michael stared at you, blinking once. Then twice. “…No, you didn’t.” You only smirked, tilting your head slightly. “Oh yes, I did.” His expression didn’t change. He refused to believe you. Denial was a strong defence mechanism, and right now, he was clinging to it like his life depended on it. “You’re joking…right?” He scoffed, leaning slightly forward. “There’s no way you actually put laxatives in my food.” You shrugged. “We’ll find out in what… fifteen?...Twenty minutes?”

Michael opened his mouth to argue, because, obviously, you were messing with him. There was no way you’d actually—his stomach rumbled. Loudly. His entire body froze. The shift in his expression was instantaneous. His cocky smirk vanished, his brows furrowing as realization dawned. He placed a hesitant hand over his stomach as if that would somehow stop whatever war was about to start in his intestines. “…You didn’t,” he repeated, but this time, there was fear in his voice.

You simply watched, amused, as Michael Kaiser, one of the most confident, self-assured, smug people you knew, slowly started to panic. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed as you watched Michael suffer, your smirk growing wider with each passing second. His face was still slightly pale, his posture slumped as he rubbed his stomach with a pained expression.

“I have no regrets,” you said, tilting your head with a satisfied grin. “Totally worth it.” Michael shot you a tired glare. “You’re actually insane.”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “And yet, I’m the one feeling just fine right now.” He groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a soft thud. “I hate you.” You reached over, ruffling his damp blue locks, making him groan again. “I hate you too, don’t worry.”

He peeked up at you from under his arm, eyes still filled with exhaustion but also mild amusement. “You should be making it up to me right now. I just suffered at your hands.” You snorted. “You deserved that. Consider it karma for all the headaches you give me."

Michael sighed dramatically, still slumped over the table. “I’m so weak… my body… it’s failing me…”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, grabbing both of your plates to put them in the sink. You walked back over to him, placing a hand on top of his head, massaging his scalp lightly. He let out an involuntary hum, clearly enjoying the feeling despite himself. “Good luck, sweetie.” Michael blinked, surprised for half a second, before his face twisted into the most offended expression. “THAT’S IT? That’s all I get after you literally poisoned me?” You shrugged, turning to walk away.“What more do you want? A parade?” “I want justice!” “Go drink some tea and maybe I’ll consider making you a snack,” you said over your shoulder. “Go to the bathroom before it’s too late” Michael groaned dramatically but forced himself up, still rubbing his stomach.

———————————————————————— Nearly an hour had passed since Michael had dragged himself to the bathroom, and you were still revealing in your victory. Watching him now, slumped against the counter with exhaustion written all over his face, you couldn’t help but smirk.

“So?” you teased, tilting your head as he let out a long, suffering sigh. “That was not pleasant…” he muttered, glaring weakly at you. His usual cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found, he just looked tired. You hummed, completely unbothered. “Is your ass sore?” Michael shot you the dirtiest look, lips pressed into a thin line. “Shut up…” he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. Yeah, that was a yes.

You chuckled, arms crossed as you leaned against the counter. “You so deserved that.” Michael groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder, too drained to argue. “I think I lost a part of my soul in there…” “Wouldn’t be the worst thing to lose,” you mused, running your fingers through his still-damp hair. His body relaxed slightly at the gesture, though he was still grumbling under his breath. You let him stay there for a moment before sighing.

“Alright, maybe I went a little too far,” you admitted.

He scoffed, though he nuzzled against your shoulder anyway. “Oh, now you feel bad?” “Not really,” you deadpanned, then softened just slightly. “But… I guess I’ll make it up to you.” Michael lifted his head with a small, hopeful smirk. “A real kiss?” You rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

He groaned dramatically, but the playful glint in his eyes was back. At the end of the day, he was still your overly dramatic idiot—and honestly? You wouldn’t have any other way.

a/n: this is like my first pics like eveeeerrrr so I hope you enjoyed reading it😭 I got this idea on a random Saturday while listening to kamisama kiss opening and thought...why not write something and this plot came to my mind. tbh I didnt like it very much because I mischaracterised kaiser a little too much but I’ll try my best next timeee feel free to send requests or questions!

#kaiser x reader #blue lock #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser #fanfic #girlblogging #women in male fields #micheal kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #one shot #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #bllk #blue lock fluff

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springtyme · 9 months ago

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𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 ♡

Emily Prentiss x BAU!Reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You and Emily takes a break from the case you're working on together.

word count: 875

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓) 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞

The leaves crunched under the tires of the SUV as you drive down the winding road, the vibrant oranges and yellows of fall foliage creating a picturesque backdrop that contrasted with the weight of the case you were working on. It is one of those crisp autumn mornings where the air feels electric, vibrant leaves swirling like confetti in the wind, the windows rolled down and crisp autumn air is swirling through the car.

Emily sits in the passenger seat beside you, her focus directed at her notebook, scribbling down notes. Every once in a while, she will look up, scanning the tree line as if the answer to the case might materialize from the colorful landscape.

You can’t help but steal a glance at her, your heart fluttering. Something about her is just so captivating—the way she focuses with such intensity, the slight furrow in her brow as she brainstorms, and the way her dark hair falls around her face, framing her features in the golden morning light. It would probably all be easier if you weren’t colleagues, you wouldn’t feel as bad or as complicated about your attraction.

The conversation had been light so far, but a lull has settled in the cabin of the car. When you had told the others that you would go for a little drive to clear your head and contemplate the next steps in the case, you hadn’t expected for Emily to ask if she could come. As you navigate the road, you think about what to say to bridge the silence.

“Hey, Em,” you finally break the quiet, keeping your voice casual. “A penny for your thoughts?”

She tilts her head slightly, pulling her focus from the notebook to meet your gaze. The sunlight catches in her dark hair, creating a halo effect that amplifies your stirring emotions. It takes a second for her to respond, her brow relaxing as she launches into her thoughts.

“I was just going over the timeline of the events,” she says, tapping her pen against the side of her notebook. “There’s still something off about the alibis we were given. I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s hiding something.”

She looks away, eyes drawn to the swirling leaves outside. “I just wish we could find a way to crack this, you know? It feels like we’re chasing shadows.”

“Right, and there’s still so much we don’t know about our suspect.”

She nods, her eyes narrowing as she considers the situation. “I feel like we’ve overlooked something crucial. Maybe it’s in the way the incidents are connected? We should try and see if we can get an overview over everything and see if we can find a common thread.”

You lean back in your seat, contemplating her words as you keep your eyes on the winding road ahead. Emily's passion for detail and her determination to solve the case only deepen your admiration for her. “A detailed overview is a good idea,” you reply, trying to channel your thoughts into a structured response.“Let’s map it out when we get back,” you suggest. “If we can visualize everything—the timeline, the suspects, the alibis—it might give us a clearer picture.

You nod thoughtfully, but as you shift your gaze back toward the winding road, a sudden gust of wind sweeps through the open windows. The vibrant leaves from the trees dance gracefully into the air, swirling around the SUV like golden butterflies. As one particularly daring leaf flutters in through the window, it makes a delicate spin before settling on Emily’s notebook.

Startled, she looks down, her eyes widening in surprise before breaking into a radiant smile as she picks up the leaf up between her fingers. The light filters through it, revealing an intricate pattern of veins that almost resembles a work of art.

You can’t help but grin at her delight. “Well, if that isn’t a sign of inspiration, I don’t know what is,” you joke lightly, grateful for the moment of levity amidst the weight of the case.

Emily holds the leaf up to the sunlight, allowing its golden hues to shimmer in the light, her expression a mix of wonder and thoughtfulness. “Maybe it’s the universe telling us to take a break,” she suggests, her tone playful yet earnest. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee and a pastry right about now,my treat.”

You chuckle, unable to suppress the warmth blooming in your chest at her offer. “I’m always down for coffee and pastries,” you respond, glancing at her with a playful smirk. “Especially when you’re the one treating.”

Emily laughs, a sound that mingles with the rustling leaves outside, bright and infectious. It feels good to share this lightness with her, especially in contrast to the heaviness of your work.

As you navigate the road that leads to the quaint little coffee shop you have in mind, the vibrant landscape outside only adds to the cozy atmosphere you’re creating in your head, intermingling with the scents of pine and damp earth that waft through the open windows. The trees close in, their leaves glowing under the sun, and for a moment, all the weight of the case seems to fade into the background.

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 year ago

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Good Omens graphic novel update: April 2024

Admin & updates

PledgeManager

Earlier this month, we launched the PledgeManager, where shipping is being facilitated. If you missed it, you can read the initial announcement here. We have been adapting the FAQ page to add further recurring asks, so please do visit there if you have a particular query as a starting point. You can view this here. We are working through all queries received - some are taking a bit longer than others, as they need to be raised with PledgeManager, or others involved, so we appreciate your patience in these instances where we are yet to get back. The most common question, which we include here, is the sock sizes:

If you need to change your size, you have the ability to self-unlock your order and make any adjustments you need to. For socks that are part of a tier, there is a button to unlock and modify on the bottom of your receipt where you can alter your choice. If they were an add on, PledgeManager recommends that you remove the item from your cart and add it again with the correct size selected and complete their order to finalize the change.

Shipping

We are also aware of queries arising about the shipping rates themselves. While we have been open from the start of the project that shipping will be charged at a later date, we understand that the resultant cost has come as a surprise to some and that some prices are higher than expected. We want to be transparent on this: we have been working with our fulfillment partners on confirming product weights and the rates for shipping globally during the months since the project’s completion. The cost of doing this ethically - ensuring that everyone involved in the process from creators to those packing boxes is paid fairly, as well as ensuring the packaging is robust at this scale - is substantial.

We’ve done our best to minimise extra costs around shipping, while also not cutting any corners – we want your pledge rewards to reach you safe and sound. We have also subsidised costs across a number of territories, but costs for shipping to many locations remain high. The final thing we’ve done is lock in shipping costs now, a year out from fulfillment. We expect third party shipping costs to increase over the coming year, following the upwards trends across the board so far, but we will continue to absorb any subsequent rises.

We want to assure backers that the shipping does not include a profit margin for us, and every charge to our backers is something we’ve tried to minimise.

We absolutely understand that this is disappointing to many, and we endeavour to keep making the surrounding campaign the best it can be.

The timeline

The PledgeManager will run across 2024, and close at some point ahead of publication date (Spring 2025). When that date has been decided, we will give everyone as much notice as possible.

FAQ

As above, here is the centralised FAQ page. This will be updated over the coming year.

Cameos

Prior updates had noted the deadline for this has passed, however given the new publication date of the graphic novel, this has been extended slightly for God Tier and Archangel Tier backers. Please check your messages and emails if you backed either of these tiers and have not submitted your likeness.

Merch and more

Things are ramping up at Good Omens HQ, first of all with this delivery of one or two mugs at the warehouse:

We’ve also got David Aja’s print featuring Aziraphale, Crowley and Dog, in their glorious orangey hues which will appear in Serpent Tier+:

The trading cards are at the testing stage for game mechanics, while some of the early design prototypes are in for artist variants and we really can’t wait to start sharing these with you when they’re a bit further down the road. Almost there.

For those ready to capture your inner Pratchett and Gaiman on the page (Demon+), we have your notebooks:

More from Colleen…

We’ve continued to see gorgeous artwork arrive from Colleen and here’s one that slipped into our inbox this week:

And we thought we’d sign off this month with a glimpse at our favourite antiquarian bookshop:

#good omens #graphic novel #good omens graphic novel #wahoo!

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not-poignant · 4 months ago

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Daily excerpt from chapter 1 of Second Star to the Right (A Falling Falling Stars follow-on, featuring the development of Kadek and Efnisien's kink relationship - launches tomorrow!):

‘Did Arden send you my contract thingo?’ Efnisien said. ‘I don’t know, the form with all the limits I have?’ Kadek sat on the same couch facing Efnisien, and instead of a tablet like Arden used, he had a notebook. When Kadek opened it, Efnisien caught his own name in black capital letters, written out in a decisive style in fountain pen. It made him feel more nervous than he expected. Especially now Kadek was staring at him. ‘Ha, babe, no,’ Kadek said. ‘You reset this every time for a new play partner, especially when it’s a serious scene. Your limits with Arden aren’t your limits with me. The endearments you’re comfortable with aren’t the same as with me. My wants and needs aren’t the same as his and my limits aren’t the same as his. We start fresh. We go through it all from the beginning because I need to know you can talk about this stuff with me. Because if you can’t talk about it, we can’t do it.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, I seem to remember Arden saying the same thing a hundred years ago.’ ‘You look pretty scared shitless for someone pretending they’re old-hat at BDSM.’ Efnisien felt a flash of annoyance and looked away, and Kadek nodded to himself. ‘So!’ Kadek said. ‘I think of myself as a rigger and a dominant, but they’re two separate things. Sometimes, as a dominant, I’m also a rigger. But when I’m a rigger, I’m not a dominant in the same way. I have a structured and formal domming style, and what I’m looking for is obedience with zero bratting. Like, absolutely no tolerance for bratting. No talking back, no intentional silliness, no looking to make me laugh. I’m not saying you can’t feel upset or challenged, or that you can’t baulk or resist something, but if we do any scenes together like that, it’s...’ He paused, sticking the cap end of the fountain pen into his mouth. ‘You want me to respect the spirit of the scene,’ Efnisien said quietly.

#daily excerpt #second star to the right #kadek setiawan #efnisien ap wledig #falling falling stars #the first chapter is us finding out #that efnisien will simultaneously tolerate a lot more and a lot less from kadek #depending on the category #less feminine endearments #a lot more on the corporal/sex scope #so we're diving in!!!#sdalkfasd

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bradleysass · 5 months ago

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Star - @black-brothers-microfic - wc 404 - Starchaser + Barty

The Astronomy Tower was their refuge, a place where walls of green and red and the expectations they carried melted away. Barty had claimed it for them in first year, his blue-gray eyes alight as he babbled on about stars and galaxies, dragging James along for the ride. James had been skeptical at first—less about astronomy, more about spending stolen moments with a Slytherin.

But Barty had laughed at his hesitation, shrugging it off like the faintest of breezes. "Come on, Potter. The stars don’t care about houses."

Six years later, the ritual held.

James arrived first tonight, his hair wild as ever, broom slung lazily over his shoulder. Regulus followed, a silent shadow who somehow still moved like he owned the space.

"Where's Barty?" James asked, leaning against the cool stone wall, his voice soft under the faint hum of night.

"Fashionably late, no doubt," Regulus muttered, setting down a small leather-bound notebook and peering up at the darkening sky. "Though Merlin knows why. He loves this more than we do."

"I heard that!" came Barty’s voice, loud and sharp like the crack of a firework. He climbed up the stairs moments later, his expression all lopsided grin and sharp angles. He carried a battered star chart in one hand and a telescope in the other.

"You're insufferable," Regulus drawled, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"And yet, you're here every night," Barty quipped back, breezing past him to set up his telescope. "Clearly, my charm outweighs my flaws."

James laughed, leaning closer to Regulus. "He’s got you there, mate."

The sky turned indigo as Barty launched into an explanation about the constellations’ movements, his voice animated and bright. James watched him with the easy affection of someone who’d known Barty since they were little boys, sticky-fingered and reckless.

But his gaze drifted to Regulus more often than not, lingering on the way his pale features softened under starlight, how the coolness in his demeanor melted into something warmer when he thought no one was looking.

"See that?" Barty’s voice broke through James’s thoughts, and James turned to follow his pointed finger. "Lyra. Beautiful, isn’t it?"

James nodded absently, eyes still drawn to Regulus. "Yeah. Beautiful."

Regulus glanced over, catching his gaze. For a brief, startling moment, the universe contracted, leaving only the three of them in its vast expanse.

The stars didn’t care about houses, and neither did they.

#marauders #black brothers microfic #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #barty crouch jr #sunwater #microfic

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midnight1nk · 9 months ago

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...Oh hey, my dear fellows! I was just vibing here in my pillow fort. Please come in! So, uh, how are we feeling?

[*panic noises*]

Hmm, understandable. We got that episode... then that render... then the website changed... Well, the point is: a lot has happened and things are about to escalate even more than what we have right now. Oh, yeah, things are about to get even crazier and we wouldn't even know. I don't really have many theories on my end since I already launched my "WOTFI 2024 Predictions" post, both the OG and the revisited version, before these episodes came in. What more can I really say?

Actually, there is one thing I could go over...

The Ticket

⚠️ DISCLAIMER IN INTRO POST ⚠️

"Nothing lasts forever..."

Unlike the usual stuff, this will be more of an analysis/prediction. Somewhat of a "mini-theory", if you will. Before I continue, I do want to give a heads-up that Tumblr is giving me a hard time uploading images so for all my sources, I would link them so you can see them for yourselves. At least, until the issue gets resolved.

Now, without further ado, let's-a go :

TRADITIONS

We are all familiar with how WOTFI works. The challenges, the points, the end goal. And, of course, the channel drops hints for the audience to pick up on, usually related to the plot. This is nothing new. Let's look back to the previous one, the 2023 Heist (aka the Notebook Arc):

After Mario stole SMG3's notebook, we ended on the cliffhanger of Three standing outside the Castle, furious at Mario, in the episode 'SMG4: Trust No One'. Since then, we have been given hints here and there, with Three missing his notebook to plotting something to get it back, before we got the trailer for WOTFI and the Heist-Planning stream. This year, though, the hints we received so far all revolved around a ticket.

The first one [link] is SMG4 getting his in an envelope.

The second one [link] was of the crew holding out each of their tickets to the sky. The picture features Bob, Luigi, Three, Four, Mario, Tari, and Karen. We can assume these are the characters we will side with for this year's WOTFI.

And now, the third [link] is the most mysterious of them all so far: A ticket was ripped up and left abandoned on the wet ground.

WHO DOES THIS BELONG TO?

So, what's so mysterious about it?

The ticket being left abandoned is one thing, but the fact that whoever had this ticket ripped it. To start with the first question:

Who does this belong to?

Now, the obvious answer would be Meggy. After all, the last (and shocking) episode just showed us that Mr Puzzles forced Meggy to turn back into Leggy. Meggy won't be with the main crew for WOFTI, it just makes sense.

Well, that's if we assume the episodes and the posts are happening at the same time.

I've been following the people behind the SMG4 channel to see if they have anything to comment on. About the recent episodes, about the renders. And oh boy, did they have things to say:

When the first one dropped, a few people, including myself, made the connection that Mr Puzzles was the one who sent the envelope to Four, similar to how he sent a letter to Wren back in Western Spaghetti. It wasn't until now that the crew alluded that we were right. It's not to say that it's an absolute confirmation. But we are on the right track.

When the second one dropped, many people suspected and joked that the reason why Meggy was in the picture was because she was too short or the one taking the picture. It wasn't until now, after we saw that Meggy was going to become Leggy, the crew was like "I guess that's why Meggy wasn't in the picture" with such a mischievous smile. (they are so silly.)

Seeing how they worded their responses, I believe that, timeline-wise, the episodes took place before these posts were made. Think about it this way:

Two plots were happening at the same time, one with the usual adventures with the crew and the other following Mr Puzzles. But, from our point of view, we only saw one of the plots.

Until the show took a turn and was like "Hey, have you ever wondered what the hell Mr Puzzles is up to while this was happening?" before we transitioned to this plot of Mr Puzzles slowly going insane.

Viewing this exact timeline, it would make sense for Mr Puzzles to already have a carnival in his hands, and send invites to all the people who wronged him (in this case the SMG4 crew) as part of his revenge plan. Leggy would already be with Mr Puzzles at this point, so there isn't any reason why she would own one. The ticket can't be hers.

Then, whose is it?

Well, it's a bit...tricky.

The first thing that comes to mind is the SMG4 crew. There's literally a picture of them holding their tickets. The thing is, they can't be the only ones. Take WOTFI 2023 for example. Sure, Three and Four were the main duo we sided with but other side characters were in the casino as well. Not only that but they were involved in the results for the ending.

Mr Puzzles wants to have a successful carnival to "prove" to his father that he has creative vision. And to do that, he would have to have the park filled with satisfied visitors. More people. and therefore, these side characters would have a ticket as well.

Our pool of "suspects" just went from the main crew to a hundred possible visitors. That is the tricky part. Fortunately, for us, there is still a way. Instead of picking a needle in a haystack, we could use the process of elimination to check off anyone who doesn't fit the criteria.

THE RENDER

Let's look over the recent third post once more. BenJoJoGV, the thumbnail artist for the channel, worked really hard on this render. You can tell how realistically detailed this looks, with the mud and puddles of rain. BenJoJoGV really cooked fr fr.

A few people pointed something out: if you look closely at the mud, you can see a shoeprint. Likely to come from a (work) boot due to the heel and the grooves being emphasized by the mud.

If this wasn't done on purpose and was simply part of the textured pattern, then this means nothing.

However, if this was done on purpose, then it means our suspect wears boots. The soles of the shoes are probably not as detailed as the ones in the render, but they're still boots. Everyone who doesn't wear boots as part of their model is automatically eliminated. From the main crew, it would be Bob and Tari.

What about Karen?

Her model does have shoes with a pronounced heel on them. However, she has no motive as to why she would rip the ticket. Just like the rest of the crew, she doesn't know who sent the ticket, let alone know who Mr Puzzles is.

As a mom, she would likely take her kids to the carnival to have some fun.

If I was right about Marty being part of WOTFI, Karen would've had to get some intel that Marty may be in the carnival. Better yet, she could've used the ticket as an opportunity to finish him off.

Either way, there is no reason to waste it.

As for the rest of the crew that do wear boots, there is yet to be a motive for any of them to rip their ticket. They don't know that Mr Puzzles is the mastermind behind all of this. To them, this is a free pass to a carnival.

This leads to my next question:

Why rip the ticket?

Other than the Didney workers, no one knows that Mr Puzzles killed Mickey and took over Didney Worl to create his own idea of a carnival. The rest of the world, whoever received a ticket, would simply think this is a fun carnival. And a free pass, too? Don't mind if I do!

Who wouldn't want a free ticket?

One person didn't. Our suspect.

They could've handed the ticket to someone else, or simply not go. Why go through the effort of ripping it?

Because, my dear fellows, they know the truth.

They would know what's the deal with the new carnival, who Mr Puzzles is. And perhaps, what Mr Puzzles has done. They would learn the truth and not respond so positively to it.

From the render, we can piece together that:

our suspect was standing in the rain

they ripped the ticket and dropped the pieces

and walked away, leaving the print on the mud, without looking back.

By the time this photo was taken, it would've happened recently since there isn't any mud or rain covered. It just landed on the ground.

Would they confront Mr Puzzles themselves? Would they warn the crew about this? Or simply not take part in WOTFI?

Hmm, lots to think about...

Right now, someone knows the truth about WOTFI and they will definitely take a big role. Remember when Three was standing outside of the castle for last year's WOTFI? It was raining. Things are about to get serious, my friends.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

The question, the one that still remains after all of this... who is our suspect? Who is this person?

We don't know, I don't. But at least we are a bit closer to learning their identity. We just have to wait and see what they have in store for us.

"I got a golden ticket. I got a golden glimmer in my eye..."

But hey, that’s just a theory…

AN SMG4 (MINI) THEORY

🎶Thanks for dropping by🎶

...now if you excuse me, I got a bingo card to prepare!

#smg4 #wotfi 2024 #smg4 theory #wotfi 2024 predictions #ink rambles #smg4 mr puzzles

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nichoswag · 2 years ago

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Are you taking requests? If so can I please get an Euijoo one where he tries teaching you Japanese? He's so gentle and kind and patient. Every time you make a mistake he rubs your hand and shows you again. And when you get it right he rewards you with a kiss. I live for soft Euijoo

incentive . byun euijoo

pairing: bf!ej x gn reader

warnings: coma-inducing fluff, sweet and patient bf ej (i have to include that as a warning), kissing, petnames (baby, like twice)

synopsis: in which euijoo teaches you japanese but you're easily distracted, so he gives you an incentive.

song rec: stuck with u - ariana grande + justin bieber

a/n: i don't think you understand, i literally audibly gasped when i read this request. the idea is way too cute for my brain to handle... also sorry this took a few days, the requests have been piling in! anywaysss, i hope you enjoy!! ♡

"there are a few ways to say 'thank you' in japanese," your boyfriend explains.

this is your third japanese lesson. a few days ago, you had asked euijoo to teach you japanese, so he's been giving you a lesson a day. now, you both sit on the couch, him teaching you and you taking notes.

"the difference in each phrase is how polite they are." he adjusts his glasses on his nose, and you look away from him and at your notes to focus on the lesson rather than his face. "for example, you would say 'arigato' to a friend or someone your age. however, to someone you don't know well or an elder, you should say 'arigato gozaimasu.' did you get that in your notes?"

you remain spaced out, staring at his features for a moment before shaking yourself out of it and nodding. "yeah, i got it."

he grins at you. "it feels like you're paying more attention to me than the words I'm saying."

you smile. "you're very distracting."

he chuckles. "just try to pay attention baby."

you think for a moment. "why not give me some motivation?"

he stares at you, puzzled. "what do you mean?"

"hmm... how about for every question i get right, you give me a kiss? like an incentive."

he chuckles. "you sly fox. you just wanna kiss me." you nod, giggling. he ruffles your hair, continuing on with the lesson.

he launches into the other ways to say "thank you," such as past and present. you remain attentive and continue taking notes. when it comes time for him to quiz you on what you've learned, you are able to answer correctly by looking at your notes. that earns you a few kisses, to your enjoyment.

"you're doing so good, baby," he exclaims, proud. "now, let's try without your notes. let's say your grandmother does something kind for you. how would you thank her?"

"uhh- arigato~?"

"not quite," he says, rubbing your hand he's been holding through the lesson. "that's how you would thank someone your age. to be polite to an elder, you would say 'arigato gozaimasu.'"

"arigato gozaimase," you repeat after him.

"good. the 'z' is more of a soft 's' sound," he explains.

you slump in your chair. "japanese is so hard!"

he smiles at you. "it'll get easier the more you practice. do you want to stop for now and pick up more in a bit?"

you nod. "i wan a hug..."

he chuckles softly. "of course." he places your notebook and pen on the coffee table and pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you.

"thank you for being so patient with me," you say quietly. "i know it's not easy to teach me."

"everyone learns at their own pace," he says. he presses a kiss to your forehead. you lean in to kiss him on the mouth, but he backs away. "ah-ah, that's only for if you get a question right."

you groan loudly.

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

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mastergeeka · 9 months ago

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I said I had notebooks worth of thoughts dedicated to this bit and I wasn’t kidding. I may be a clown but I’m a clown of my word. How many people requested this? Honestly not many, but I tend to crumble at the slightest bit of peer pressure when it comes to bits. I was going to make this a whole video essay, and I still might at some point, but I have so many other videos I want to do, an essay will have to suffice for now.

The bit in question, the first rule of Board Game Club #98 from Sniper Elite The Board Game (Thank you to the Patreon Discord for help counting!). The first rule of Board Game Club is "there's always something to envy: a smile, a friendship, something you don't have and want to appropriate, *beat* Sullivan." Adam then proceeds to pull a little smirky face before he launches into the rules because of course he does. It’s also relevant to note that Adam delivers the line with his weird “I’m a magnificent smarmy bastard ooh I’m trying to be sexy” voice/schtick. It’s hit or miss with me, sometimes it makes me want to bury my face in my hands, but here the absurdity is just funny.

While I or any other NRB viewer probably won’t recognise where this quote originates, the emphasis on Sullivan and accompanying smarmy face/Bond villain persona lets us know “Ah another bit in the series of ‘Adam & Sullivan are in love despite Brooke’s protests’ gags”. You learn about this gag very quickly watching NRB videos with Brooke or frankly just from the NRB wiki. It’s the first gag listed and Sullivan is still the answer Google gives you if you look up who Adam from NRB is dating. It’s still astounding to me how far the bit goes.

For most viewers, the joke ends there. Adam is once again trying to steal Brooke’s boyfriend, haha. They might correctly assume “That first bit is just a quote from some WWII movie to tie in the WWII theme of the game” and move on. They might even get curious as to what movie it is, and find it‘s from the 2001 movie Enemy at the Gate, but that’s probably where their curiosity stops if they even get that far. Because it’s an intro gag of a board game video. This is all heavily treaded ground for them and it takes up less than 45 seconds. How much time, energy, and thinking space are you going to dedicate to a small bit like that?

If you’re me, the answer, of course, is entirely too much because there’s something wrong with me, psychologically. It may not be that deep but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig. Now, for the record, the “Adam & Sullivan are dating” bit at this point in time is already living rent-free, utilities included, in my brain. It seemed like by a certain point, everyone was in on it, all the time. It became ubiquitous, as this particular bit shows. This episode does not feature Brooke. Brooke’s name is not even mentioned but we still gotta hammer home that boyfriend bit, somehow. Also, at this point in my NRB fan journey, I was under the impression that this bit came to be as a way of teasing Brooke. For the record, I have now learned this is not really the case because these two have had this “vibe”, “chemistry” or whatever you wanna call it from day dot and they have kept it up this whole time. Had I known that, maybe I wouldn’t have let this bit send me so far down a rabbit hole. Maybe, I could have just chalked it up to “those kooky boys are kooky” and left it there.

“BUT I DIDN’T DO THAT!” (It’s amazing that I still believe I’m funny. ) The point is Brooke is not here, so I was mystified by Adam’s choice to go with this bit. In the beginning of the episode no less, where there may be potential new viewers who aren’t familiar with the love triangle thing at all and are just going to be thrown off. Questioning Adam’s choices is, of course, one of my favourite hobbies because not only do I think he’s batshit insane (affectionate), but I’m also fascinated by the comedic creative process. “How did you come up with this shit? How did we get here?”

This is where I start actually exploring the source of this quote because while it seems like the Sullivan was an add-on, I did entertain the idea it wasn’t and that was how we got here. Well, the film is set in Russia and all the characters have Russian names so that’s a no. The main character is a sniper so there’s that but that just strengthens the connection I already understood. It still didn’t explain why Adam decided “You know what this video about a WWII inspired board game needs. It needs me being very gay for my best friend. That’s really important”

So I look into the context of the quote hoping to find some answers and while I do find answers, I also find a bajillion more questions. Both the speaker, Danilov and the main character Zaitsev, who the speaker is addressing, are in a love triangle together, much like the setup we have of Adam, Sullivan, and Brooke. Hooray, connection found, end of story. Except no, not end of story. The line Adam says is not the full quote. The full quote is ‘We tried so hard to create a society that was equal, where there'd be nothing to envy your neighbour. But there's always something to envy. A smile, a friendship, something you don't have and want to appropriate. In this world, even a Soviet one, there will always be rich and poor.”

EXCUSE ME!? This has been about Communism this whole time?! It just gets stranger from here so strap in. This line is said to the speaker’s rival love interest, not their mutual target of affection, a woman named Tania. Which yeah this film was made in 2001, probably not gonna see a lot of gay relationships on screen. So does that mean Adam is supposedly addressing Brooke in this reenactment? Sure, okay. I guess I can accept that for now

Next crazy piece of context, circling back to the Communism thing again for a moment. The speaker, Danilov, has been a huge believer in building a Soviet Communist Utopia after the war up until apparently right fucking now. His crush friend-zoned him for his friend, the main character Zaitsev, and that makes him decide, “Damn guess Communism will never work. The economic system of Communism doesn’t work because I’d still be crushing on my friend’s girl.” I’m sorry, that’s an absolutely bonkers reason to ditch your whole worldview of what an ideal society can and should look like. Just insane. Once again, this dynamic is the one Adam chose to relate to his, Sullivan, and Brooke’s relationship. Think about that.

Last but certainly not least in “What Huh?! This is the type of energy you’re gonna bring to your board game video?!” section. Right after the speaker, Danilov, the role that Adam is playing in this weird analogy that HE CREATED, remember he chose this, says this line, he fucking dies. It’s the same scene, too. He says the thing and then he dies, right in front of the main character. He sacrifices himself for the main character, presumably so the main character and Tania, who would be Sullivan in this scenario, can live happily ever after or something. I didn’t watch the whole goddamn movie okay. Apparently it’s not a great movie. It doesn’t seem that popular of a movie either, so that's another reason to pick literally any other movie set around WWII or deals with Nazis. There’s a freaking ton of those. It’s a very popular setting. You had options, my guy, so why are we doing this?

Knowing all of that, let’s go back to the Board Game Club moment since I now am able to know what Adam is referencing. And Adam expects some people to know what he’s referencing otherwise what’s the fucking point of making the reference, right?

Maybe the sick knowledge that someday, some idiot is gonna start looking into it and get real fucking confused and you know what, if that was your goal. You succeeded, Gold star, mate. Here ya go.

But let’s assume this wasn’t a twisted mind game to spite me specifically because Adam surely has better things to do with his time, surely. He expects some people to watch that bit knowing that context. What was his intended reaction from those people and how is the reaction not “Hey what the fuck, What the fuck?!” ? Because, whether you know the NRB love triangle bit or not, those are a character’s last words, despairing about the impossibility of Communism because he got friend-zoned, and this is a board game comedy video. Those aren’t exactly what I’d call “compatible”

And you know what’s also not compatible with that quote? BOND VILLAINY, TRYING TO BE SEXY, ACTING LIKE AN ARCHETYPAL CHESSMASTER MAGNIFICENT BASTARD FUCKING ANY PART OF ADAM’S WHOLE DELIVERY! So anyone familiar with the quote, especially someone who doesn’t know about Adam’s love for pretending to be a “sexy evil genius” before his hubris inevitably runs him over like a truck, is going to be very thrown! That poor hypothetical new viewer is even more confused than I am right now!

I’ve said this for a while now. If the day ever comes where I am able to meet Adam, I want to sit him down and just ask him questions and most if not all of those questions will start with “How and Why (in the absolute fuck) did you *insert insane thing here*? And let me tell you this will be at the top of that list. Not the very top though, that’s reserved for the LOTB 2022 promos. “Adam the box why the box why the everything with the box, like obviously the tongue is just, what the hell but even the build up with the other boxes why?”

Now, after having done this whole deep dive investigation, I have come upon the likely possibility that Adam just googled WW2 sniper film, picked out Enemy at the Gates from the first few results, picked a quote from the movie and went from there. There’s a chance he never thought about it this hard and I went on this long journey for no real reason. But even in that case, all of these implications are still here and they are insane implications for a comedy board game video! At the end of the day, he still compared his jokingly homo-erotic relationship with his friend and rivalry with said friend’s partner to this movie as the intro to a YouTube video and I refuse to become desensitised to this level of insanity and wackiness. I just refuse.

#nrb #adam blampied #no rolls barred #sullivan beau brown #norollsbarred #board games #board game club #brooke bourgeois #rambles #deep dive

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ot7stan4life · 2 years ago

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“Drunk-Dazed”

Yoohyeon (Dreamcatcher) x Female Reader

(1 part - completed ✅)

Word Count: 8265

Summary: Being a member in the debut lineup for HFE/Dreamcatcher Company’s new girl group is stressful for a number of reasons, but your increasingly complicated feelings for a certain tall brunette from your senior group rapidly becomes the main one when you’re shoved into a dark room to find her unbuttoning her shirt…

Warnings: angst, cursing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

This story features appearances of idols: Yujin (IVE/IZ*ONE), Yeji (Itzy), Heejin (ARTMS/LOONA), & Yves/Sooyoung (soloist/LOONA)

"C'mon, unnie," a voice whined, breaking my focus on the lyrics in front of me. "Give it a rest. You've been writing all day." From my peripheral I could see a pout on the brunette's face.

"I have not been writing all day," I countered, putting my pen back over my notebook page in the hopes that a line would magically come out of it. I had admittedly been working for a few hours and managed to write an entire song already. But this one still felt like it was missing something. That last finishing touch. And I couldn't leave until I figured it out. I didn't like splitting my writing sessions up; my songs have to be completed in one sitting, because I feared I'd be in a different mindset when I picked it up again and wouldn't be able to do it justice.

"Right, like eight hours isn't 'all day,'" the younger member mocked and I could practically hear her eye roll from her spot in the doorway. Her words caused me to let go of my pen and turn around in my chair to narrow my eyes at her. "Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a little..."

“‘A little,'" I muttered, spinning back around.

She rushed over, sitting on the bed next to the desk and grabbing my knee before I could pick my pen back up. "But I really think you should take a break." I paused to look at her for a moment, trying hard to resist. "You've been working a lot lately, even after practice hours... especially after practice hours." I forced a smile and shook my head, turning to the side to fight back a sarcastic laugh. "I'm serious, unnie," she said, bringing my eyes back to hers, "We're all worried about you."

I blinked as she stared back, completely serious. Had it really gotten that bad? I mean, our debut was nearing, so of course I'd been working harder these days. I often took time out of my breaks to work on writing and producing: perfecting the songs we planned to put on the album. But, that's what everyone does, right? That's what I was expected to do as an idol.

I sighed. Maybe I was going a little overboard. Shaking my head once more, I replied, "I'm sorry, Yujin." Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my hands over my face as I exhaled. "I didn't mean to make you guys worry." My lips turned down when my eyes met hers again. Sometimes I wondered what I did to deserve such caring members.

Yujin's warm, brown eyes shined in the lamp light as a smile slowly spread across her lips, exposing her dimples. "It's okay, unnie," she said, and suddenly launched forward, jumping on me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I laughed, still somewhat unused to her physical affection. She really did suit the role of maknae perfectly, always acting clingy and cute towards me like a puppy. "I know you're doing it for us," she whispered, making my chest feel warm.

There was a brief moment of silence where I allowed myself to appreciate the support and love I felt from the young singer on my lap. She probably had a million things on her mind being so young, away from home, and having pressures and expectations put on her that nobody her age should ever have to deal with. Yet, she still chose to prioritize me over all of it. The funny thing is, I was the oldest member, so I should've been the one taking care of her, not the other way around.

"This does mean you're gonna take a break now, right?" Yujin mumbled into my shoulder before backing away.

I laughed. "Yes, that's what it means." She giggled and stood up, pulling me up with her like she thought I might've been lying, still planning to stay planted in that chair for the rest of the night.

"Good, because your girlfriend invited you to a party." A voice from outside the room cut in, directing my eyes to the open doorway. There stood a muscular girl with golden hair pulled back in a half-up half-down hairstyle.

"Who, you?" Yujin replied, raising her eyebrows in disbelief, "Because last time I checked she was my-"

"I don't remember inviting Y/N to a party." Yet another voice interrupted the youngest member, appearing behind the blonde. She nonchalantly popped what I assumed was a peanut in her mouth, making her short, dark red hair flop to one side before she smirked and sent me a wink.

"Sooyoung unnie~" Yujin dragged out, whining at the red-haired member, "you ruined my line." I just stood there with pink cheeks as I watched the all-too-familiar scene play out in front of me.

"Blame Heejin, she's the one who said my name." Sooyoung shrugged, leaning one of her hands near the top of the door frame.

"She said 'Y/N's girlfriend,'" Yujin grumbled, clearly annoyed.

"Exactly," Sooyoung said, sending the maknae a tight-lipped smile.

"Uh, clearly I was referring to myself," Heejin butted in before the youngest member could get a word in. And, just like that, the room erupted into chaos, all three members yelling and arguing over each other.

If you had told me a few years ago that three of my future group members would be fighting over me, I would've laughed in your face, even if they were joking. And, yet, here I stand.

"Guys, guys please," I raised my voice loud enough to be heard over the bickering. Luckily they started to quiet down after getting their last remarks in and sneering at each other. "Enough with the joking-"

"Oh, you think we're joking." Sooyoung deadpanned, then looked me up and down in a way that made me feel weak in the knees.

"So is Y/N coming to Minji's party?" A fourth voice asked, completely oblivious to what just went down (or, maybe just so used to it that she had tuned the bickering out). All eyes landed on the brown and pink haired member like she had just exposed their secret.

"Yeji..." Heejin said disappointedly.

"Wait, I thought you were talking about Yoohyeon," Yujin furrowed her eyebrows.

"I thought you were talking about me." Sooyoung added, feigning cluelessness.

"Be quiet!" The other two members said in unison, only making the red-haired woman smile proudly.

"I was talking about Yoohyeon," Heejin explained. "It's Minji's party, but Yoohyeon's the one who invited us."

It took a moment to process, but once everything clicked, I shouted, "Yah! Yoohyeon's not my girlfriend."

"Right, and Sooyoung's not attracted to women." Heejin muttered, making the maknae bust out laughing.

"Yah, watch it, hypocrite." Sooyoung raised her chin towards the youngest.

"She's the hypocrite." Yujin giggled, pointing at Heejin. "And she's not wrong."

"You're all missing the point here," the blonde took over, turning back towards me, "Y/N is the hypocrite."

"I-"

"Nope. You get no say in this." Heejin pointed a finger at me and then quickly put it down. "We all know you like her."

"Yep," Yujin confirmed.

Sooyoung coughed before muttering, "Simp," then looked around like nothing happened.

Even Yeji was nodding in agreement and I knew, at this point, arguing was useless.

"So, about that party..." I smiled sheepishly.

"Ayyyy," a couple of them yelled and Sooyoung ran over to put her arm around my shoulders and drag me out of the room. Before I could regret my decision, we were all packing into a van on our way to our company building.

When we got to HappyFace, the members of Dreamcatcher had prepared more for their little impromptu party than we had initially anticipated. I honestly thought we'd just be sitting, talking, and maybe eating, but Sua had apparently insisted on making the practice room into a dance floor/party room. We could hear the music blaring the second we stepped out of the van. We all ended up laughing, expecting no less from a group just as chaotic as ours.

Soon after we went inside, the girls split up, going to eat or dance. I ended up staying in the main room, eating snacks and making small talk with Handong. I hadn't seen Yoohyeon yet and I wondered if she even came or decided to stay back in the dorm. I figured, since she invited us, she would at least make an appearance at some point.

My wandering eyes must've given me away, because Dongie suddenly said, "She's in one of the vocal practice rooms."

I played innocent, "What?"

"Yoohyeon," the pink-haired woman explained, "I know that's who you're looking for." The knowing grin on her face sent heat rushing to my cheeks.

"That's not what I-"

"She insisted on staying in there," she continued, ignoring my protests, "I think something's making her nervous," she drew out with a smirk, causing my face to darken a shade. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

"Uh..." I stared dumbly.

"It's okay, I know you want to," Handong smiled what seemed like an actual genuine, comforting smile before shooing me away, "now go."

I sighed, getting up and walking towards the practice rooms reluctantly. I didn't want to admit that Handong was right, but I did want to talk to Yoohyeon. Although, the thought of being in a room with her alone made me nervous. Even just making eye contact was enough to make me completely forget any language known to man, so this encounter was sure to end with me making a fool out of myself.

As I neared the rooms, I heard quiet humming leaving one of them and figured it must be her since the other members were elsewhere and no one would be using these right now. The humming stopped abruptly when I knocked quietly on the door.

"Come in," that voice I had grown addicted to said gently.

I opened the door slowly, seeing that her back was turned to me and her hand was holding a pencil as she wrote in her notebook. The scene reminded me of earlier today and I wondered if she would overwork herself when she got anxious like I did. She was wearing a loose, multicolored flannel, tight, black adidas pants, and her usual converse shoes. Her brown hair was freshly cut into a bob style and time seemed to stop for a second when she looked back at me. I hadn't seen her in person since she changed her hair and suddenly I understood why everyone was talking about it. She was breathtaking.

"Hi?" She smiled shyly, probably not expecting me. I stood there staring at her, still struck by her beauty... so long that she ended up giggling.

"Sorry," I shook my head, looking at the ground and internally cursing myself for the blush I knew was on my cheeks. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I can leave if you-"

"No!" She shouted, making my eyes widen and dart back to her. "I mean, no, it's okay." She looked away, but I noticed her jaw clench. "I was just finishing up anyways."

I nodded with a smile, endeared that she didn't seem to want me to leave. Though, I realized, she couldn't see it, so I replied, "okay."

A few seconds of awkward silence passed between us. We used to be able talk hours on end without ever running out of things to say. But, lately, there was a strange tension between us and it made me wonder what changed. I mean, I know what changed for me... I developed feelings for her. But what changed for her? Or was I just the one making it awkward?

"Did you happen to watch that scary movie I told you about?" I asked randomly, resisting the urge to facepalm for picking that, out of everything, as the topic of conversation.

Yoohyeon laughed, turning her head to meet my eyes again, showing off her smile that always gave me butterflies. "Yeah, I did, actually."

I returned the smile, touched that she cared enough to follow through with my recommendations. "And?"

"It was good," she shrugged, "I liked it."

"I-is that it?"

"Well, you were kinda hyping it up a lot so maybe I was expecting more from it?" Yoohyeon drug the words out like she was asking a question, probably too afraid to outright say she didn't like it because she didn't want to ruin it for me.

"Yah. It was so good though," I argued.

"Was it really good or do you just have a crush on the hot Japanese lesbian character in it?" She blurted out, making my jaw drop. How was I supposed to respond to that? "Mhm, that's what I thought. You totally have a thing for Japanese girls."

"No, I really don't," I defended, but she wasn't even listening.

"What's with that by the way?" She kept going, "It's like you don't even like Korean girls."

I couldn't help but laugh. Ironic that she was the one saying that. "You have no idea." I muttered.

"Oh really?" She perked up. Why did I say that out loud? "So you do like Korean girls?" She asked and then all-too-eagerly gestured for me to come sit next to her. Why was she so interested in this?

I sighed, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants before walking over. "Yeah." I sat down. Yoohyeon stared at me for a second like she was checking to make sure I wasn't lying. The way her eyes were carefully scrutinizing my face started getting to me. I couldn't take when she looked at me like that. "What?" I said shyly, pushing her shoulder so that she'd stop staring.

"What?" She repeated with a laugh. "I can't look at you?" A teasing smile made its way onto her lips. This wasn't a new occurrence. Although, it was normally me intentionally making her panic. Now it was more often the other way around. The more times I noticed I couldn't keep eye contact with her the more I started to realized I liked her more than just a friend.

"You know that's not it," I blushed, still looking away.

"Then what?" Yoohyeon giggled, shoving my shoulder back.

"It's just-"

"It's just what?" She leaned forward, wanting me to look at her.

I smiled in my embarrassment. "Nothing. It's stupid anyways." I glanced at her a second to see her watching my expressions closely.

"Well now you have to tell me." She grinned, using the phrase we always used to when one of us wouldn't tell the other something.

I turned my head to her. "It's just..." She was perched on the edge of her seat, so eager for what I had to say. And God, I wanted so badly to tell her. Maybe she was hoping I'd admit my feelings. But how could I know? Maybe I could just go the safe route and compliment her. After what we were talking about earlier, maybe she'd get the hint. "You look..." pretty? No, she hates being called pretty. Beautiful? Is that even any different? I can't just say 'good' and 'handsome' seems a little weird right now. Maybe 'attractive'... no that sounds douchey-

"What, I look ugly?"

"No! No, of course not," I rushed out and we both ended up laughing.

"You look beautiful," I said, causing her to stop laughing and look at me.

When she realized I was being serious, she was the one to break eye contact. "Really?" She chuckled, her voice shaky. "I just got out of practice though," she brushed it off. "I think you're lying." She joked. I noticed she tended to do that any time we got serious like this.

"Really? I would've never guessed," I replied honestly. She seriously was completely and utterly clueless about how beautiful she was.

She met my eyes again, timid. "You're just saying that-"

"No, I mean, you look good in anything. Even your practice clothes." Her cheeks turned red and she laughed nervously while punching my shoulder.

"Shut up."

"Yah, I'm being serious." I laughed, pushing her hands away from me. "And I get why everyone likes your new hairstyle." She finally stopped attacking me and looked back at me. We just stared at each other for a moment and, as much as I hoped she realized I was being genuine, the sudden silence made me nervous again. "Really though. You look like a badass Black Widow or something," I finally broke the silence.

"Ooookay." She laughed and stood up. "Marvel nerd." She shoved me for the eightieth time tonight. "That's my cue to leave."

"Noooo," I cried dramatically, "don't leave me, unnie."

"Unnie?" She exclaimed with a laugh. "When have you ever called me that?" Before I could respond, she was walking out the door and turning off the light with me still inside. "That person's weird," she yelled back and I just imagined her pointing her finger back at the door.

Well, guess it's safe to say the compliment route didn't work...

About an hour passed and I hadn't talked to Yoohyeon any more. Some of my younger members had headed back to the dorm to rest and a couple others I had lost track of. Most of the older members started drinking and, with the majority of them being lightweights, let's just say... they were intoxicated. And Dreamcatcher + alcohol did not equal a pleasant mix.

I would find this out sooner rather than later when Sua came out of nowhere and started dragging me down the hall. I didn't have time to ask where she was taking me before she was pushing me through a doorway. The room it led to was dark with nothing but moving colored lights illuminating the surroundings and music blaring, similar to the practice room.

"Alright, we can start now," Sua shouted after closing the door behind me and running to the center of the room where a table was set up. Crowded around the table, I noticed Minji, Siyeon, Yoohyeon, Dami, Sooyoung, and Heejin, along with Sua.

Sooyoung saw me and made her way over, pulling me further in the room. "There you are. We've been waiting for you." Her words came out slow and a little slurred.

"What's going on?" I asked. "And are you drunk?" Just as I tried to scold her for setting a bad example as our leader, Sua's loud voice cut in.

"Alriiiight, ladies," she clapped her hands together once, "first up is... drumroll please..." The girls around me started making drumroll noises with their mouths or tapped on the table with their fingers. It was pretty dark, so it was hard to make out their faces, but they all seemed to be smiling like they were doing something they shouldn't be. Sua tapped on the device in her hand and then smirked. "Yoohyeon!" she said, making the room erupt into cheers.

I looked over just as the tall member put her hands over her face in embarrassment. Clearly she was dreading being picked and I wondered what could be so bad that she didn't want to do. Sua nudged the brunette forward a little towards the table. "The party Gods have chosen you," a slap sounded, making Yoohyeon flinch. From my time around this group, I had a good feeling it came from the dancer spanking Yoohyeon's butt, "start stripping." I nearly choked on my own spit. Stripping??

Smacking Sooyoung next to me, I gave her a look that showed her how insane I thought this all was. "What did you drag me into?" I whisper-yelled, glad the music was loud enough and the room was dark enough to mask my panic.

"Just watch." She replied, much too calm for my liking.

Calm is the furthest thing away from what I was right now, and it only seemed to drift further and further out of reach as I watched Yoohyeon's shaky hands slowly start unbuttoning her flannel. One by one, from the bottom up, the buttons were let loose by her slim fingers, exposing a few more inches of her tan skin every time. Even with it being dark, the occasional flashing party lights danced across her torso, highlighting how taut the muscles were underneath her smooth skin. She wore only a tight, grey Calvin Klein bra underneath, making all the blood rush to my head.

Ignoring the hollering from her members and mine, she tugged on the sleeves and finally pulled the shirt all the way off. Dami grabbed it from her hands, but I barely even paid attention. I was too focused on her. My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes took in every inch of her skin: her strong neck, exposed collarbones, defined biceps, long torso, tiny waist. I nearly had to stop myself from stepping forward and tracing my fingers over the lines between her abs, it was so tempting. What I would give to just touch-

"You're staring," a low voice whispered to my side. I turned suddenly, growing embarrassed when I realized it was Siyeon who had caught me.

"And blushing," Sooyoung added, to which I responded with another slap on her shoulder.

"Am not," I defended, making Siyeon laugh.

"Wait 'til you see what comes next," the blue-haired vocalist teased, directing my eyes back to the shirtless girl.

My mouth went dry when she climbed onto the table and laid on her back as Sua stood over her. This couldn't possibly be leading anywhere good. Minji came from the other side of the room with a bottle of tequila and a few other items in her hands that I couldn't quite make out. Yep, this definitely wasn’t good.

"While Minji's getting everything ready, let's see who tonight's lucky participant is." Sua tapped on her device once more as the crowd started yelling again.

Yoohyeon looked anxiously around the room and I subconsciously scooted over so that Sooyoung was blocking her view of me. Meanwhile, Dami was helping pour a shot while Minji handed Yoohyeon a lime and started shaking something into her hand over the younger member's torso. When she was satisfied, she turned her hand over onto Yoohyeon's stomach and started spreading the white grains into a line down the middle, from the top of her bellybutton to the white band on her bra. Salt? Or sugar? Everyone else seemed to know what was happening, but I was growing more confused by the second.

"And, the lucky winner is..." the drumming noises picked up again and Sua seemed to drag it out longer this time. Her eyes glanced up from her phone to meet mine and a devilish grin took over her lips. Oh no. "Congratulations Y/NN," she mocked victoriously and somehow I knew from that look on her face that this wouldn't end well for me.

I froze, sure I was hearing things. I didn't even notice how Yoohyeon's cheeks had turned pink or that Sooyoung had walked behind me until I was being shoved towards the table. The girls in the room cheered, but I was hardly focused on them. Sua grabbed my arm, pulling me to the edge of the table and handed me something.

"What do I-"

"Drink this," she instructed, gesturing to the shot glass now in my left hand, "then all you have to do is finish it off with some salt and lime. It's that easy." Her calm voice nearly convinced me, but the hint of mischief in her eyes made me rethink. The laughter coming from the short silver-haired rapper confirmed my suspicions.

There's no way that's all I had to do.

Then, my eyes caught sight of the white line trailing down the center of Yoohyeon's abs. Salt. Her hand hesitantly reached up to her mouth to bite down on the fruit Minji had given her. Lime.

Well, fuck.

I looked over at Sua in utter disbelief. All she did was wink and say, "Go get her, tiger." She smacked me on the butt, sending me forward and forcing me to catch myself on either sides of the table next to Yoohyeon's ankles. I was positioned right between her legs, giving me a sickeningly attractive view of her body. Suddenly my head started spinning and my gut twisted. Now I was sure I'd pass out.

I didn't have time for that though when the whole room started chanting, "One-shot! One-shot! One-shot!" Sua had turned her phone flashlight on as an impromptu spotlight, so that everyone could see what was happening. Looking down at the liquor in my hand, I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't be that bad. The alcohol would help, right? Isn't that why they called it liquid courage?

I felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck as I looked back at Yoohyeon. She didn't dare look up at me and it made my fingers numb. What was she thinking? Did she want this? Would it make her uncomfortable? It definitely felt like it was crossing a line. What if it made things weird between us? But, then again, things between us are already weird...

Screw it.

The girls cheered even louder when I put the shot glass to my lips and tilted my head back, downing the entire thing. Not even a second later I started feeling the effects of the liquor. It was like lightning traveling through my veins, electrifying my senses and making my mind go numb. I wasn't at all prepared for the adrenaline rush it would give me and suddenly doing this didn't seem like a bad idea at all. I wanted it, after all.

Jumping up to plant my knees on the table, I nearly toppled over onto the girl now below me before I caught myself. The alcohol certainly wasn't helping with coordination, but it did make me feel a million times more intensely as I looked down at Yoohyeon. The image of her from this angle was so overwhelming that chills ran across my skin. When she finally met my eyes, her own looked nervous and unsure. In that split second, I raised my eyebrow at her in a silent request for consent that I hoped she would understand. When she raised her own back and looked down at her stomach, I swallowed thickly. She was challenging me.

My hand instinctively brushed my hair back as I lowered myself over her body, causing the overdramatic idols surrounding us let out a few pterodactyl screeches. I grabbed her hips over her black athletic pants, noticing how her hands gripped the side of the table in anticipation, and looked down at the trail of salt starting just above her bellybutton, watching as her stomach moved up and down with her lungs. Her heart must've been beating as fast as mine, she was breathing so heavily. The taste of alcohol still stung the back of my throat, begging me to replace it with something different.

Here goes nothing.

I took a massive breath in before placing the tip of my tongue on her skin. I was glad I had chosen to hold her for support because she instinctively bucked her hips at the contact. This reaction went straight to my head and I flattened my tongue on the way up her smooth stomach in the hopes that she'd do it again. The salty taste quickly became too much, but I kept going, not ready to chicken out just yet. And I was thankful I didn't when she inhaled sharply and arched her back off the table, forcing my nose to brush against her skin. My hands had moved higher on her waist to push her back against the table, allowing me to feel the goosebumps I had left in my wake. Once I finally managed to make it all the way to her bra, her muscles tighten underneath me because of what she knew was coming next and I could've swore I heard her whine when I pulled back.

Raising my head to get a look at her, I had to clench my teeth to stop an ungodly sound from leaving my mouth. Her neck was strained as she tilted her head back with her eyes closed and her teeth clenched around the lime slice between her lips for likely the same reason I was forcing mine closed. Or maybe that was wishful thinking and her body language was really alluding to her discomfort. The thought made me embarrassed for being so aroused by what had just happened. How could I be sure that she was enjoying this too?

By now, I had completely blocked out the people around us, only able to hear the blood pounding in my ears. Just being this close to her and feeling her chest rise and fall against mine made me feel like I was burning alive in the best way possible. So when she finally opened her eyes to let me see that they had now turned a shade darker, that fire burned even hotter. Maybe she was enjoying this. Her chin tilted upwards while she stared intensely into my eyes. It seemed obvious she was offering me the lime between her teeth, but something in her stare felt like she was daring me to do more.

I stayed there for a moment, just looking down at her, frozen. The nerves and doubts started to creep back in as I glanced back and forth between her eyes, almost forcing me off that table. Almost. But then Yoohyeon glanced down at my lips and cocked her eyebrow just like I had done earlier. The simple action felt like she was confirming that she was feeling everything I had been feeling and wanted me to keep going.

So, I slowly leaned down, feeling her eyes on me every second. When I reached the lime, my bottom lip brushed against hers, making her inhale through her nose and bite down harder. One of her hands darted to my jaw as I tilted my head to grab the lime from her with my teeth. She let me take it into my own mouth, watching as I bit down into the fruit, licking her own lips. The sour taste topped off my heightened senses, and now, all I wanted to taste was her.

With her bottom lip now caught between her teeth, she moved her hand to take the lime from my mouth. I allowed her to throw it on the ground and licked the rest of the juice from my own lips. Her eyes followed my tongue and stayed on my lips. After a few seconds that felt like hours, she put her hand on the back of my neck to pull me down and there was no doubt in my mind that she was going to kiss me. She didn't even care that other people were looking, it was only me and her ... except, it wasn't.

"Okay, enough fun lovebirds." Sua's voice rudely interrupted, bringing the rapidly escalating moment to a full stop. "Go get a room or something." She shoved me off of Yoohyeon and I would've fallen off the table had Sooyoung not been there to catch me.

I had been so invested in that moment that it felt like sensory overload when my hearing tuned back in to everything around me. Sooyoung held me up straight and shook my shoulders, trying to bring me back down to planet Earth. "Uhm, what the fuck just happened?!" She nearly yelled, pulling me to the side of the room, away from the table.

I looked over my shoulder to see Yoohyeon glancing back at me while Dami put her shirt back on her. The shiny line on her abdomen made me bite the side of my tongue, remembering the taste of salt and the feeling of her warm, soft skin underneath it. "You tell me," I replied, unable to pull my eyes away from the brunette. She was going to kiss me. The pit of my stomach tingled at the thought.

"Dude," Sooyoung turned me so that I was finally looking at her, "you're fucking crazy." I tried to ignore her, the last thing I needed right now was a lecture. Instead I tried looking for Yoohyeon, who, in the split second I had turned away, had vanished. "I don't think they were actually expecting you to do it," Sooyoung admitted.

"What?" I immediately turned back to her, now angry. "You mean they set this up as a... as a joke?"

"No it's-"

"And you let me do it?" I yelled, ripping my arm out of her hold and glaring at her.

"To be fair, I didn't think you would," Sooyoung tried to reason, but it was too late. Now I was overthinking everything. What if she wasn't really trying to kiss me?

"I gotta go," I said and walked to the door, not waiting for a reply.

"Wait, Y/N!" Sooyoung yelled after me, but I was already gone.

Feeling overwhelmed by embarrassment, I rushed through the company halls, hoping to escape this place before anyone could stop me. I was so sure of the fact that I had made Yoohyeon uncomfortable that I felt ashamed and disgusted with myself. She was my friend, why would I think that was a good idea? I should've known doing something that foolish would have repercussions. I was just so wrapped up in the idea that she might've actually liked me as much as I liked her. When, in reality, that was probably farthest from the truth.

Now I was sure things between us could never be the same again. How could I ever face her knowing how I made her feel? Maybe it would be best if I tried to avoid her all together. It might be tricky being forced to use the same tiny company building, but maybe I could manage it. I had to.

Ironically, as I paced down the hallway in my trek to the exit, the door to a vocal practice room opened to reveal the very girl I was desperately trying to evade. When she noticed it was me, her gaze was so intense that I felt the need to start spewing apologies as I tried to leave.

"I'm really sorry and I know you probably hate me now, so I'll just go before I make things wo-" She stepped forward and grabbed my arm, yanking me into the practice room with her. I could only assume she was angry when she slammed the door and turned to forcefully shove me back against the wall.

"Yooh-" I tried to apologize again, but suddenly her lips were pressing roughly into mine, catching me completely off guard. There was no time to react when she reached up to hold onto my neck tightly, whether for support or to stop me from pushing her off, I wasn't sure. All air left my lungs at the sensation and the desperation in her kisses convinced me it was the latter. She wanted this. Badly. And she wasn't going to let me be the one to stop her. Not that I wanted to anyways, even with how utterly confused this was making me.

The way her lips relentlessly attacked me, capturing my bottom lip, only to release it, push further into me, tilt her head a little in the other direction, and trade it for my top lip—like she was starved for a taste of me and couldn't get as much as she wanted quick enough—made my brain foggy. The veil of lust overtaking my mind only got worse when I started running out of air and it seemed apparent that Yoohyeon wasn't planning on letting me go anytime soon. I had no idea my earlier actions had managed to stoke the long-burning flame she had inside of her for me and now it engulfed her into a fire too hot to be put out.

As much as I would've gladly continued providing fuel—because the feeling of its irresistible flames now catching fire inside my own chest and spreading throughout my body was torturously addicting—my lungs burned painfully, begging for the oxygen she had stolen from them, and my tongue stung with the bitter taste of alcohol coming from her own lips. These bold actions struck me as uncharacteristic for the usually polite and occasionally shy woman and I started to realize she was likely acting under the influence, her intuition clouded by intoxication. This thought gave me the final ounce of willpower I needed to raise my own hands to her cheeks and push my thumbs against her chin to separate our lips.

"What are you doing?" I asked with a huff as my lungs made a violent effort to refill themselves, hindered by the strain my beating heart had on the amount of air they allowed in.

My eyes were blown wide while hers slowly fluttered open, hooded with lust once they met mine. Our lips were still just centimeters apart and somehow looking at her now had me more panicked than when she was practically on top of me, making out with me. Seeing her features up close and knowing that it really was her who initiated this (and I wasn't in some sort of lucid dream) was almost too much to handle.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Yoohyeon whispered, biting her bottom lip as if to savor the taste I left on it and leaning impossibly further into me so that our noses were touching as she stared into my eyes. It was definitely too much to handle.

Even with just one sentence, I started doubting everything. She's wanted to do this for a long time. Meaning she's thought about it multiple times in the past, but never acted on it. Meaning she might actually like me more than a friend. Except the faint smell of alcohol on her breath still itched at the back of my mind, unwilling to be ignored. People do plenty of things they'd never do sober once intoxicated. It clouds your judgement, blurring the line between what's right and wrong. So, what if it was just the alcohol talking? What if she didn't really mean it? If anything, she was probably just drunk and horny and I happened to be in the right place at the right time, making her feel feelings that weren't actually there before she started drinking.

Yoohyeon seemed to grow impatient as I stood there, frozen in my internal battle, unsure of how to proceed. She didn't need my go-ahead anyways, she was going to decide for the both of us. And that decision manifested itself in her fingers trailing up the length of my neck, weaving themselves into my hair at the base of my skull, and her tongue taking advantage of my parted lips from the gasp her actions had elicited, swiping across my own without warning.

Feeling helpless and mildly pitiful from how much of a mess she had managed to make me within the span of a few seconds, all I could do was blindly reach down to clutch her slim waist for support. Though she seemed to take it to mean something completely different when she hummed and pressed herself against my right thigh. With her legs on either side of mine, I nearly lost balance, forcing me to pull her waist further into me. My thigh consequently put pressure against the spot between her legs, causing her to let out a high-pitched noise into my mouth.

Oh my god.

Was she really this turned on? Had I made her this turned on? No, I couldn't handle the thought. It was too much. Even if everything she said was true and she felt all these things for me, it was wrong to let her go on in this state.

"Wait," I mumbled when she pulled back for a second, but she ignored me, kissing my bottom lip with such force that she might as well have been biting it. At that thought, images of the lime clenched between her teeth from before flashed through my mind and I caught myself wondering what my lip might've felt like there instead.

Her steady rhythm of swiping her tongue into my mouth and finishing by closing her mouth and capturing my lips before pulling away to do the same again was slowly driving me crazy and had my brain picturing scenarios between us much worse than her simply biting my lip. With the way her hands started dragging down over my collarbones on a clear mission to get a feel for what was hiding under my clothes, I knew she was likely imagining the same. I needed to stop her before this got too far out of control.

I took advantage of the fact that her fingers were no longer holding onto anything to use my own to push her shoulders back. Luckily she didn't immediately crash back into me this time since she had finally run out of air completely. We both inhaled and exhaled heavily and her nose found it's way to bump against mine like she still couldn't stand not touching me. I allowed her a second to open her eyes and when I saw them dart back to my mouth, I rushed to put my thumb over her lips. Her gaze flitted back up to my own and, despite my attempt to calm her down, she seemed to like it a little too much.

I moved my thumb down so it was resting on her chin instead and whispered, "we shouldn't be doing this."

Yoohyeon grabbed my hand that was holding her face, wrapping her thumb around my own. "Why not?" She whispered back, raising her eyebrow and sending me a look that I knew was dangerous.

"You're drunk," I answered, my voice a little louder this time. It became clear to me that nearly everything I had been doing and saying she took as me trying to turn her on. But this wasn't some game I was playing. Not anymore.

"I'm not drunk," she stood up straight and, as if on cue, wobbled backwards as she lost her balance. I was able to pull her in by her waist before she could topple over. "Okay, maybe a little," she giggled, making herself comfortable again with her arms wrapping securely around my neck.

I glared back at her as a warning, but the smile brought on by her laughter remained on her face, showing off her dimples. My attempts to make logical decisions continued to dwindle and fail. The more I tried to think everything through, the realer it became. And the realer it became, the more I realized that this might be the only time I'd ever get what I truly wanted. Her. That thought alone was enough to make me give up any attempts of stopping her. Of course, it didn't help that she was also playing the part incredibly well.

In that moment of internal debate, while I was busy convincing myself to stop her, she was busy getting lost in my eyes. "I like you," she admitted so quietly that I almost didn't hear it, making my heart stop all together.

Damn you, Kim Yoohyeon, for being so convincing. For these feelings spilling out of me like a hopeless romantic who can't help but hang onto your every word, even in your drunken state. For stealing my heart and holding it right out in front of me, reminding me who’s really in control of it. And for doing it all so easily, acting like you're totally oblivious to the hold you have on me.

But, then again, maybe you were, and that was the problem.

"You don't really mean that," I stated, practically begging that she'd just agree and drop it right there so I could stop holding onto hope. I was so tired of questioning every single thing she did and said. Couldn't she just bury it for good?

But, no. "I do," she insisted. Like her kisses before, she seemed desperate to prove it to me. It had me wondering for a moment if she was as dependent on me to validate her feelings as I was on her. But I quickly shook the ridiculous thought away.

"No," I sighed, "Yoohyeon-"

"What's that saying?..." she trailed off, ignoring me again, "drunken thoughts are sober words." Her eyebrows furrowed, "wait no. Sober thoughts-"

"The fact that you can't even form a coherent sentence right now is really not helping your case." I tried to sound serious, but I couldn't stop the hint of a smile gracing my lips. One more thing to add to that list: damn you for being such a cute drunk.

The brunette pouted, and her brown eyes shined in the hallway light peeking through the door, making her resemble a puppy dog. Case in point.

"I want to believe you," I told her, no need whatsoever to fake the honesty in my voice, "but you're obviously not in your right mind." I couldn't be sure she was really listening intently like she appeared to be, but I was just glad she had given up on her attempt to quiet me with more kisses (well, not entirely glad, but, you know). "I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

When I was finished, Yoohyeon whined and buried her nose in my neck. "I hate that you're such a good person sometimes." I squeezed her sides, pulling her closer so that her chest was flush against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, just as unstable as mine from earlier.

It was still proving incredibly difficult not to let go of reason completely and allow her to continue doing whatever she wanted to me when she was being like this. So many times in the past we had only joked about anything to do with relationships, always tiptoeing around the dangerous waters of our feelings for each other, but, this was the first rare moment where she was finally bold enough to dive headfirst into them. And, with her next words, she pulled off her last final trick to drag me down under the surface with her.

"Cause all I can think about is you on top of me on that table and the way your tongue felt against my skin," she whispered in my ear as her lips teasingly brushed across the sensitive skin just beneath my jawline.

Oh my god, I thought, except this time it left my mouth and had Yoohyeon giggling before her lips began claiming their territory on my neck. Though, it was less a cute giggle and more an evil one, like she enjoyed saying such explicit things because of the reactions she could get out of me. So much for being a cute drunk.

The sensation of her plump, velvety lips sucking down on my skin was slowly overriding all the thoughts in my mind. "I really need to take you home," I said, more to remind myself than to tell her. She hummed and I felt her smile against my neck. "Not like that," I tried to explain, but it was obvious she wasn't really listening. "Hey," pulling her away from me, I tilted her chin up so that we stood face to face once again. She gulped, looking up at me like she was completely innocent. "You're probably not even gonna remember this," I said under my breath and shook my head.

Still, I took a deep breath and looked back at her. "I like you, too, okay? And, God," I leaned into her, resisting the urge to feel her intoxicating lips against mine just one last time, "I want this more than you could possibly know." The obvious desperation in my tone made Yoohyeon smile proudly. "But I don't want this to just be a drunken mistake that you regret in the morning." Her lips turned down into a frown at that.

Really, knowing her regretting this was a distinct possibility hurt. A lot. And now I was thinking maybe it would be better off if she did forget this whole thing ever happened. "So you're gonna let me take you home, and if you still feel the same way in the morning, then maybe we can talk." For once, I could finally tell the sentimental look in her eyes was genuine and not another one of her deceiving tricks. "Deal?"

Yoohyeon pressed her lips together. "Deal.”

**This imagine was transferred over from my Wattpad account @ OT5Stan4Life**

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whilereadingandwalking · 1 year ago

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“Me and Caravaggio are telling you to find your f*cking Pope.”—Emil Ferris telling the artists in the audience to pursue their passions & find a way to get paid tonight at the book launch of My Favorite Thing is Monsters Book 2 at Chicago Public Library.

“I still don’t feel like a woman”—Ferris shared that she’s never fit into either binary, and that she feels like protagonist Karen: “She’s not a girl, not a boy, just a detective.” She wanted to write a book where queerness was there but was still enough under the radar that young girls like Karen, or like young Emil, could read it even if their parents didn’t support them.

She was ready to write Karen once she had her own daughter and “remembered being a child.” But she struggled after her 1st book deal fell through, dealing with hunger and suicidal thoughts. It was her now good friend, a fellow artist she met on Facebook, who saw her work and said he would give her $20 whenever she needed it so she could keep working.

She was inspired by the big thick books of fantasy films and witchy tomes, and by the fresh clean notebooks that were beautiful to her as a young kid in a poor family. (All her childhood notebooks, tragically, were thrown away, a major heartbreak.) She wanted this book to be like a packed notebook you find on the L and want to give back but you can’t stop reading, and every last page is full.

The night also featured a howl: Emil and the audience howled spectacularly. I can’t wait to read the conclusion to Karen’s story!

#emil ferris #my favorite thing is monsters #my favorite thing is monsters book 2 #graphic novel #new books #book event #book events

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pixel7777 · 3 months ago

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This Old House - A Bloodweave Fanfic: Ch. 5

See Ch. 1 for work summary and content tags. Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

Chapter Summary:

Incident Report: Unidentified Paranormal Phenomena Filed by: Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart Status: Ongoing Investigation Key Findings: Shadowheart, after a thorough and expert assessment, has declared the Szarr Palace not haunted. The Szarr Palace has responded by… vehemently disagreeing. Standard poltergeist activities observed. Shadowheart remains unimpressed. Gale remains extremely interested. Astarion remains exasperated. Next Steps: 🔲 Determine who or what is haunting the palace. 🔲 Continue debate on the definition of “ghost.” 🔲 If no solution presents itself, consider burning the house down.

Astarion

"There's no ghost," Shadowheart announced with the certainty of someone explaining basic arithmetic to children.

Cold moonlight streamed through the broken windows of Cazador's ballroom, somehow emphasizing the bone-deep chill that permeated the space. Astarion wrapped his arms around himself, not that it helped much.

Astarion snorted. "Oh? So the doors opening on their own, the voices, the apparitions—all that's just our imagination, is it?"

"I don't claim to understand what's happening here," Shadowheart said, turning slowly in place as she surveyed the massive ballroom, its once-opulent features now draped in cobwebs and memories. "But there are no ghosts."

Gale stepped forward, his breath misting in the unnatural cold. "Have you checked the entire palace? The attic contained significant magical residue, and the basement—"

"I've done a thorough sweep of this floor, the lower floor, and the dungeons," Shadowheart cut him off. "I'm a former cleric of Shar and a current cleric of Selune. Detecting undead is rather in my wheelhouse."

As she spoke, her silver ponytail suddenly jerked backward, as if pulled by an invisible hand. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What was that, then?" Astarion asked, unable to suppress his smirk.

Before Shadowheart could answer, she stumbled forward, pushed by an unseen force. She caught herself and whirled around, hand flying to her holy symbol.

"That," she said through gritted teeth, "is not a ghost."

Astarion burst into laughter. "Are you sure? Because it seems rather ghosty to me."

"Fascinating," Gale murmured, already pulling a small notebook from his pocket. "The manifestation exhibits classic poltergeist behavior, yet you detect no undead presence?"

Shadowheart straightened her armor with a huff. "I came because you asked for my help, and I'm giving it to you. Vampires generally do not leave ghosts—it's just not a thing."

The temperature dropped further, causing even Astarion to shiver. A chandelier above them swayed slightly, though there wasn't a breath of wind.

"Yet something is clearly here," Astarion pointed out.

Shadowheart raised her eyebrows and extended both hands toward him, fingers formed into little pointing gestures. "The only undead I can sense anywhere is—" she wiggled her fingers at him "—this guy."

"So helpful," Astarion drawled. He rolled his eyes as Shadowheart stood her ground, utterly unperturbed by the supernatural chaos unfolding around her.

"Yes, I am actually quite helpful," Shadowheart said, brushing invisible dust from her armor. "By ruling out standard undead activity, we've eliminated a major possibility."

"Oh, what a relief," Astarion replied dryly. "We've narrowed it down to literally anything else in the entire realm of magical oddities."

A moldering book launched itself from a nearby table, narrowly missing Gale's head. He ducked just in time, the heavy tome thudding against the floor behind him.

"Thank you for that contribution," Astarion called out to the empty air. "Most enlightening."

Shadowheart's lips twitched. "You know, I didn't expect to find you playing lord of the manor in Baldur's Gate."

"I'm not playing anything," Astarion snapped. "I'm trying to get rid of this damnable place, not move in."

A vase wobbled violently on a side table before tipping over and shattering. Astarion gave it an exasperated look.

"Was that expensive? I hope it was expensive."

Shadowheart folded her arms. "So what exactly is your plan here? Because inheriting your former master's estate seems... questionable at best."

"Questionable!" Astarion laughed. "I didn't ask for this. Did you think I filled out probate paperwork while we were fighting the Absolute? It was all settled while I was busy helping you lot save the world."

The temperature plummeted further. Their breath now emerged in dense clouds.

"I rather think—" Gale began before a curtain suddenly wrapped itself around his head. He struggled with it for a moment before freeing himself with a burst of magic. "As I was saying, I rather think someone or something wants your attention."

"It's certainly got a flair for dramatics," Shadowheart observed as a chair slid across the floor unprompted.

Astarion sneered. "Must have learned from its previous owner."

"Speaking of whom," Shadowheart continued, "how did you end up as Cazador's heir anyway? Surely he didn't—"

The air in the center of the room shimmered, cutting her off mid-sentence. Slowly, an image coalesced: Cazador Szarr in all his aristocratic glory, face twisted in rage.

"GET OUT!" the apparition bellowed, its voice reverberating through the ballroom. "GET OUT! GET OUT!"

While Gale jumped back and Shadowheart reached for her weapon, Astarion simply sighed. He marched straight toward the specter, stopping just inches from its incorporeal face.

"No," Astarion said flatly. "Make me."

The apparition flickered, seemingly taken aback.

"And if you want to convince me to do anything you want," Astarion continued, "putting that specific face on will never help your case. I hate that face. Find another one."

The Cazador image wavered, its features contorting with confusion rather than rage.

"That's right," Astarion said, crossing his arms. "I killed the real thing. You don't scare me anymore."

Astarion held his ground as the apparition flickered before him, but the bravado he projected outward didn't quite match what churned inside. He'd spent two centuries cowering before that face—the real version of it, at least—and those weren't habits easily broken.

No, he wasn't being entirely honest with himself. The nightmares still came, especially in those vulnerable moments when he slipped from trance into deeper sleep. He'd startle awake sometimes, convinced he could feel Cazador's grip on his mind again, pulling his strings like a marionette. Gale had literally burned Cazador to dust before his eyes, yet some part of Astarion remained convinced his former master would return.

But this... this pathetic display? This wasn't Cazador. Not really. This was just a cheap imitation, all flash and no substance. The real Cazador would never simply shout and posture—he'd slide under your skin, find your weaknesses, and twist them until you broke. This theatrical phantom couldn't even maintain its form under scrutiny.

As Astarion stared at the wavering image, it suddenly collapsed inward like a snuffed candle, vanishing completely. The ghostly cold dissipated, the room warming several degrees in an instant. The floating objects dropped to the floor, and the unsettling atmosphere that had permeated the palace seemed to retreat.

"Interesting," Gale said, immediately stepping forward to examine the space where the apparition had been. He waved his hands through the air, muttering arcane phrases under his breath. "I've never seen anything quite like this. It's not a standard enchantment or residual magic."

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "A not-ghost with performance anxiety? How novel."

"No, no," Gale said, pulling out a small crystal and holding it up to the light. "This is something far more sophisticated. Look at the way it responded to your direct challenge. That's not pre-programmed behavior—it's dynamic, adaptive."

Shadowheart circled the area slowly. "Something is listening and reacting. Something intelligent."

Gale looked at Astarion with that gleam in his eyes that meant he'd found a new magical puzzle to solve. "It's remarkable. Whatever this is, it recognized you as a threat to its position when you directly challenged it. Then it assessed your confidence and... retreated."

"Well, I am remarkably amazing," Astarion drawled. "A heroic vampire who scoffs in the face of danger. Who wouldn't retreat?"

Astarion caught the way Gale was looking at him—that half-proud, half-hungry expression that always made his dead heart feel strangely full. He decided to capitalize on the moment, tilting his head and flashing a challenging smile.

"What? Impressed by my bravery in the face of supernatural terrors? Or just admiring the view?" Astarion preened slightly, running a hand through his silver-white curls.

Shadowheart made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh, but Astarion kept his eyes on Gale, who was already moving toward him with that endearing look of determination.

"Both, obviously," Gale said, closing the distance between them.

When Gale reached him, Astarion leaned in eagerly as the wizard's lips met his. The kiss was brief but carried a familiar warmth that never failed to surprise him. Two hundred years of emptiness, and now this—this ridiculous, brilliant wizard who kissed him in haunted ballrooms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Astarion lingered a moment longer than necessary, partly for the pleasure and partly because he knew Shadowheart was watching. When they separated, he caught her exasperated expression.

"Really? Here? Now?" Shadowheart asked, hands on her hips.

Astarion smirked. "What better place than a haunted mansion for a little romance? Adds a certain... thrill."

Shadowheart shook her head, though Astarion noticed the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth. "Focus, please. Do you actually have a plan for all this?" She gestured broadly at the decaying grandeur around them.

"We do, actually," Gale answered, his hand still resting lightly against Astarion's lower back. "We're planning to make this entire place someone else's problem."

Astarion nodded. "The goal is to change the name of the Szarr lordship—so we never have to hear that wretched name again—and then pass the whole thing on to an 'heir' of sorts."

"Essentially," Gale continued, slipping easily into his professorial tone, "we'll disentangle Astarion from all legal obligations, settle any outstanding debts using whatever valuables we can find here, and transfer ownership to someone willing to take it on."

Shadowheart walked across the ballroom, her boots clicking against the parquet floor. She ran a finger along a dust-covered table and looked back at them.

"That makes a certain amount of sense," she conceded. "But I'm not sure anyone would willingly take this place as is." She glanced upward as a chandelier swayed slightly without any discernible breeze. "Especially with this... unexplained and rather unwelcoming phenomenon lingering about."

Astarion let out a dramatic sigh. Of course Shadowheart was right, which only made it more irritating. The woman had an infuriating talent for stating inconvenient truths.

"Yes, thank you for that brilliant observation," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed the flying objects and ghostly apparitions might be off-putting to potential buyers."

He stalked across the ballroom, kicking aside a fallen candlestick. "We'll simply have to drive this... phenomenon out. Whatever it is. I refuse to be saddled with this place any longer than necessary."

Astarion gestured at the decaying opulence and rotting corpses around them with distaste. "And I certainly have no interest in assuming the title of 'lord.' From my observations, Baldur's Gate's nobility are almost entirely disgusting creatures with more time and money than sense or decency."

"No argument there," Shadowheart said with a wry smile. "Though I'm not sure the aristocracy of any city fares much better under scrutiny."

Gale cleared his throat, stepping between them with that maddeningly reasonable expression he wore when about to point out something obvious. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I feel compelled to mention that driving something out typically requires knowing what that something is first."

Astarion threw his hands up. "And how are we supposed to figure that out? It's apparently nothing our divine expert—" he gestured at Shadowheart "—can identify, nor does our resident arcane genius—" he moved his hand toward Gale "—seem to have concrete answers."

The frustration bubbling inside him felt uncomfortably similar to the panic he'd experienced facing Cazador's specter yesterday. He'd thought himself free of this place, of everything it represented. Yet here he was, trapped by bureaucracy and haunted by... something.

"What's left, then?" he demanded. "Do we hire an exorcist? Burn the place down? I'm open to suggestions, particularly destructive ones."

Shadowheart tilted her head, a thoughtful look spreading across her face. She tapped her fingers against her armor, considering.

"Actually," she said slowly, "I may know someone who could help."

Astarion crossed his arms, impatience building as he watched Shadowheart's cryptic little smile. "Well? Are you going to enlighten us about this mysterious someone, or shall we stand here exchanging vague pleasantries all day?"

"Someone who specializes in unusual situations," Shadowheart replied with maddening opacity. "That's all I'll say for now. I need to speak with her first."

"Her?" Astarion pounced on the only concrete detail she'd offered. "A name might be useful."

Shadowheart gathered her cloak around her shoulders. "When I've confirmed she's available and willing. No point getting your hopes up prematurely."

"How thoughtful of you," Astarion drawled. "Always concerned with my emotional wellbeing."

"Always," Shadowheart agreed with a sardonic smile. She turned toward the entrance. "I'll send word when I have news."

Astarion watched her go, resisting the childish urge to mimic her parting words under his breath. The moment the massive doors closed behind her, he turned to Gale with an exaggerated grimace.

"That woman," he huffed, pacing across the filthy floor. "Would it kill her to give a straight answer? 'Someone who specializes in unusual situations,'" he mimicked, raising his pitch. "How perfectly unhelpful."

Gale leaned against a dust-covered table, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, for someone who spent two centuries being professionally mysterious, you've got remarkably little patience for it in others."

"That's entirely different," Astarion protested. "I was mysterious for survival. She's mysterious because she enjoys tormenting me."

"A worthy pursuit," Gale said solemnly, though his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

Astarion narrowed his eyes. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, of course." Gale pushed off from the table and approached him. "Always yours. Even when you're being unreasonable."

"I'm never unreasonable," Astarion said, knowing full well that he was being precisely that. "I just don't see why everything must be so complicated."

Gale brushed a cobweb from Astarion's shoulder. "The complexity of life is what makes it interesting."

"Says the wizard who gets aroused by incomprehensible magical theories."

"Only the elegant ones," Gale corrected with a grin.

Astarion's irritation began to dissolve despite his best efforts to cling to it. He gestured at the decomposing bodies scattered around the ballroom. "Speaking of complexity, how in the hells are we supposed to get all this... mess out of here? We can hardly show the place with rotting corpses as its primary decorative feature."

To his surprise, Gale's face lit up. "Actually, I have found a solution for that particular problem." He pulled a small copper wire from his component pouch, twisting it between his fingers. "I've been working with several promising students at Blackstaff."

Gale muttered an incantation, the wire glowing briefly between his fingers. "Nikka, we're at the Szarr Palace, and we're ready when you are."

A moment later, a shimmering portal opened in the middle of the ballroom. Through it stepped a young halfling woman with spectacles perched on her nose and her hair pulled back in a practical bun. She wore the gray robes of a Blackstaff apprentice and carried a satchel that clinked with various implements.

"Master Dekarios!" she exclaimed, then froze as she took in their surroundings. Her eyes widened at the scene of carnage, but she quickly schooled her expression.

"This is Nikka Brighthand," Gale said. "A student in search of extra credit. Nikka, this is—"

"Astarion Ancunín," she said, her voice admirably steady despite her obvious shock. "The vampire spawn hero from the Mind Flayer crisis."

Astarion cleared his throat and offered a theatrical bow. "Yes, that's me. Astarion Ancunín, heroic vampire, savior of Baldur's Gate, and now—" he gestured expansively at the decay and destruction around them, "—proud owner of all... this."

The halfling woman adjusted her spectacles, utterly unimpressed by his sarcasm. She simply nodded and turned to examine the nearest corpse with clinical detachment.

"Nikka is one of Blackstaff Tower's most promising students of practical applications," Gale explained. "She's agreed to help us with our little... sanitation problem in exchange for help with her illusion work."

"I've designed an efficient system," Nikka said, already pulling implements from her satchel. "With your permission, I'll go through each room and essentially magically shovel all the remains into a portable hole." She held up a small black piece of cloth that seemed to swallow the light around it. "I'll use prestidigitation to handle the, um, more persistent stains."

Astarion wrinkled his nose. "Squiggly smears, you mean."

"Precisely," she agreed without flinching.

Gale placed a hand on Astarion's shoulder. "Nikka has kindly offered to do this, but we'll need to supervise her work. For safety reasons."

"Supervision?" Astarion frowned. "Sounds dreadfully dull. Watching someone else clean?"

"We can conduct our inventory while we accompany her," Gale said. "And ensure that whatever is happening in the house doesn't end up... well..."

"Eating our magical cleaning service?" Astarion finished for him.

Nikka looked up from her preparations, apparently unbothered by this implication. "I've faced worse in practical exams. Professor Oroluhn once had us clean a laboratory after a failed experiment with oozes." She shrugged. "I still have all my fingers."

Astarion found himself smiling genuinely for the first time since entering the palace. "Is that the standard for success at Blackstaff Tower? Retaining all your digits?"

"For first-years," Nikka replied without missing a beat. "By third year, we're expected to keep all major limbs."

Astarion laughed, a sharp and unexpected sound that echoed through the ballroom. He looked at Gale with raised eyebrows. "I like this one. She might actually survive this place."

"High praise indeed," Gale said with a smile.

Astarion watched with morbid fascination as Nikka unfolded the portable hole with a practiced flick of her wrists. The black disc lay against the parquet floor like an absence rather than an object, a void waiting to be filled. The halfling produced a simple wooden staff that began to glow at one end, then gestured toward the nearest werewolf corpse.

The cadaver slid across the floor as if pulled by invisible strings, tipping headfirst into the hole with a soft thump that seemed impossibly small for the size of the body. Astarion had expected more... squelching.

"Impressive," he admitted, leaning against a relatively clean section of wall. "Usually getting rid of bodies is much more labor-intensive."

Nikka didn't even look up from her work. "I imagine you would know."

Gale choked back a laugh, hastily turning it into a cough when Astarion shot him a glare.

"Shall we continue the inventory while Nikka works?" Gale suggested, pulling a sheaf of papers from his pack. "Just call out anything that looks valuable or interesting."

Astarion sighed dramatically but pushed off the wall. "Fine. Let's see what horrors await in Cazador's little museum of misery."

Room by room, they progressed through the main floor. Gale checking items against some list, Astarion calling out pieces that looked valuable enough to sell, and Nikka following behind like some sort of macabre housemaid—summoning corpses into her portable hole and scouring away bloodstains with efficient flicks of her hands.

To Astarion's surprise, the house didn't interfere. In fact, as they entered the grand dining hall, several chairs seemed to shift aside of their own accord, allowing Nikka easier access to a partially decomposed thrall slumped beneath the table.

"Did you see that?" Astarion hissed to Gale.

"The chairs? Yes. Fascinating," Gale said, already scribbling notes. "The entity seems to be... helping?"

"Or it simply doesn't like rotting corpses in its dining room," Astarion muttered. "At least we share one preference."

As they moved through the east wing, the pattern continued. Doors that had been stuck swung open at their approach. Furniture rearranged itself slightly to clear paths. Once, when Nikka stumbled over an unseen obstacle, a wall sconce briefly brightened, illuminating the hazard.

"Whatever haunts this place must have standards," Astarion observed after a particularly dramatic example where a heavy sideboard had slid two feet to reveal a hidden cache of putrid rats. "It apparently draws the line at festering cadavers."

When they finally approached the staircase leading to the attics, however, the atmosphere shifted. The temperature dropped sharply. The door at the top slammed shut with an emphatic bang.

Gale raised his hand toward the door, murmuring an incantation—only to have every light in the hallway simultaneously dim to near darkness.

"I believe," he said dryly, "that was a 'no.'"

Nikka sagged against the wall, looking exhausted. "I'm out of spell slots anyway. That last batch of thralls in the servants' quarters took everything I had."

Astarion glanced at Gale's enchanted timepiece. "Past midnight already? No wonder our little halfling is fading."

"Tomorrow, then?" Gale suggested.

"Tomorrow," Astarion agreed, eyeing the firmly closed attic door with suspicion. "Perhaps our resident not-a-ghost will be more amenable after a good day's rest."

Astarion watched Nikka fold her portable hole with practiced precision, tucking the seemingly impossible void into her satchel. The halfling's shoulders drooped with exhaustion, and even in the dim light, he could see the dark circles forming under her eyes. Magic always took its toll, especially the practical kind.

"You've done admirably well," he told her, surprised by his own sincerity. "For a student."

"High praise from someone who's lived two centuries," she replied, stifling a yawn.

"Don't get used to it," Astarion said with a smirk. "I'm notoriously difficult to impress."

Gale helped the halfling gather her remaining implements. "We'll send for you tomorrow evening, if that suits? Perhaps start with the lower floors this time."

"Perfect," Nikka said, securing her satchel. "I'll bring extra components. This place requires... more than the standard cleaning spells."

After Gale opened a portal to return Nikka to Blackstaff Tower, Astarion found himself lingering in the entrance hall, gazing down the sweeping staircase. The palace felt different now—less oppressive, somehow. Whether that was due to the removal of decomposing flesh or some shift in the building's mood, he couldn't say.

"Shall we?" Gale extended his hand, and Astarion took it without hesitation.

The night air hit Astarion's face like a blessing as they stepped outside. He breathed deeply, savoring the scents of the city—not exactly pleasant, but infinitely better than the lingering miasma of death they'd spent hours wading through. The stars twinkled overhead, familiar and unchanged despite the tumult of his existence.

"You know what I need?" he announced as they descended toward the Lower City. "Wine. Lots of it. And to watch you eat something in a setting that isn't surrounded by corpses."

Gale laughed, the sound warming something in Astarion's chest. "That can certainly be arranged. The Elfsong's kitchens should be empty by now."

The tavern was still lively when they arrived, with late-night revelers clustered around tables and a bard in the corner massacring what might generously be called a ballad. Astarion caught the eye of the innkeeper, who nodded discreetly. Their arrangement—generous payment for after-hours access to the kitchen—was well established from previous visits.

While Gale rummaged through the pantry, Astarion slipped down to the wine cellar. The lock was barely worth the name; he had it open in seconds. Running his fingers along the dusty bottles, he selected three promising candidates. A rich red from Amn, a pale white from the Moonshae Isles, and—his personal favorite—a blood-red dessert wine from Waterdeep.

When he returned to the kitchen, Gale had already started cooking, his sleeves rolled up as he chopped vegetables with surprising dexterity for a man whose talents lay primarily in blowing things up.

"Wine for the chef," Astarion announced, setting the bottles on the counter and uncorking the white. "Something light while you work?"

Gale accepted the glass with a smile. "Perfect."

Astarion moved behind him, wrapping his arms around Gale's waist and resting his chin on the wizard's shoulder. "What culinary masterpiece are you creating tonight?"

"Nothing fancy," Gale said, leaning back into him slightly. "Just a simple pasta with herbs and a nice-looking cheese."

"Sounds delicious." Astarion pressed his lips to Gale's neck, just below his ear. "You're utterly wasted on me, you know. A wizard who cooks his own meals when he has a vampire companion who can't eat them."

"Not wasted at all," Gale replied, his voice growing slightly unsteady as Astarion's hands began to wander. "I enjoy cooking. And I enjoy you watching me eat even more."

"Is that so?" Astarion murmured, nipping gently at Gale's earlobe. "Then I should ensure tonight's meal is particularly... memorable."

Astarion settled back, content to engage in light flirting while Gale cooked. He poured himself a glass of the blood-red dessert wine, swirling the liquid under his nose, inhaling the rich aroma. His eyes never left Gale, tracking every movement as the wizard efficiently chopped herbs and tossed pasta in a boiling pot.

Once the meal was ready, Gale dished out a generous serving and sat down at the staff's kitchen table. Astarion refilled Gale's glass and joined him, propping his chin on his hand as he watched Gale eat with genuine enthusiasm. The simple domesticity of the moment was strangely comforting, a stark contrast to the horrors of the palace.

As Gale finished his meal, Astarion's gaze grew more intent. He reached out, tracing a finger along Gale's jawline. "You have a bit of sauce..." he murmured, leaning in to lick the corner of Gale's mouth.

Gale chuckled, trying to pull away half-heartedly. "Astarion, not here—"

But Astarion was already sliding under the table, his hands deftly working at Gale's belt. "Shh," he hushed, tugging Gale's pants down to his ankles. "No one's around to see."

Gale's protests were weak, his breath already hitching as Astarion's cool fingers brushed against his thighs. "Astarion, this is... public indecency..."

Astarion grinned, his fangs grazing the sensitive skin of Gale's inner thigh. "Then you should be quiet, shouldn't you?"

He didn't wait for a response. With a swift, practiced motion, he sank his fangs into Gale's thigh. Gale's breath caught, his hands gripping the edge of the table as Astarion drew deeply, the rich taste of Gale's blood flooding his senses. He knew the effect this would have; Gale's body tensed, his arousal immediate and intense.

Astarion took his time, savoring the moment before withdrawing his fangs and licking the wound closed. He looked up at Gale, his eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. "Now, where were we?"

Gale's voice was unsteady, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Astarion, we can't... not here..."

"Really no or only play no?"

Gale bit his lip and flicked his eyes from the swinging door—was all that was between them and the bustling bar—to Astarion, nuzzling at his erection. "Yes, dammit."

Astarion smirked up at Gale, who rolled his eyes first in annoyance and then back into his head as Astarion took him into his mouth. Gale's play protests dissolved into incoherent murmurs, his body trembling with each skilled motion of Astarion's tongue. The kitchen filled with the sounds of Gale's pleasure, his half-hearted attempts to chide Astarion fading into desperate moans.

Astarion reveled in the sensation, the power of bringing Gale to the edge. He used every trick he knew, every intimate knowledge of Gale's body to drive him wild. Gale's hands found their way into Astarion's hair, gripping tightly as his hips moved in rhythm with Astarion's ministrations.

"Astarion... you're going to get us arrested..." Gale managed to gasp out, even as his body betrayed his words, pushing deeper into Astarion's mouth.

Astarion hummed in response, the vibration sending a shiver through Gale. He redoubled his efforts, determined to make Gale come undone completely. The sounds of Gale's pleasure were all the encouragement he needed, the taste of him, the feel of him—it was intoxicating.

Gale's protests were long forgotten, his body tensing as Astarion relaxed his throat and swallowed him down to the root. Gale buried his fingers in Astarion's hair and rocked his hips, fucking Astarion's mouth slowly. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of Gale's moans and Astarion's encouraging hums, the clink of glasses and the distant hum of the tavern fading into the background. There was only this moment, only the two of them, lost in each other.

Astarion felt Gale's body tense, the telltale sign that he was close. He didn't let up, his movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. Gale's grip on his hair tightened, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he thrust faster.

"Astarion... I can't..." Gale's voice was a ragged whisper, his body trembling on the edge of release.

Astarion knew he had him. With a final, skilled swirl and suck, he pushed Gale over the edge, the wizard's cries of pleasure filling the kitchen as he came undone in Astarion's mouth. Astarion drank it all in, the taste of Gale's release, the sound of his ecstasy, the feel of his body shaking with the force of it.

As Gale's body slowly relaxed, Astarion gently released him, looking up with a satisfied grin. Gale looked down at him, his eyes glazed with pleasure, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

"You're insane," Gale murmured, his voice hoarse.

Astarion chuckled, climbing out from under the table and settling back into his chair. "And you love it."

Gale shook his head, a weak laugh escaping his lips. "Only you could make me forget where we are..."

Astarion leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Gale's lips. "That's the point, my love. To make you forget everything but this."

Gale's eyes softened, his hand reaching up to cup Astarion's cheek. "You're impossible."

Astarion smiled, his thumb brushing gently against Gale's lips. "And yet, here you are. With me."

Astarion savored the dazed look on Gale's face, feeling smug satisfaction at having reduced the articulate wizard to incoherent mumbling. He always took pride in his ability to shatter Gale's composure, to make that brilliant mind go completely blank with pleasure.

"We should..." Gale gestured vaguely at his disheveled state, still struggling to form complete sentences.

"Yes, we should get you decent before someone walks in and gets an eyeful." Astarion slid back under the table and tugged Gale's pants up, fastening them with deft fingers. "Though the look on their face might be worth it."

Gale swatted his hands away. "You're incorrigible."

"You weren't complaining a minute ago." Astarion rose to his feet and offered Gale his hand. "Come on, let's get you to bed before you collapse. You've had quite an evening."

Gale accepted the help, his legs still unsteady. "Between the house and the... other activities, I'm thoroughly spent."

They gathered their belongings, Astarion making sure to bring the unopened bottle of red wine. No sense leaving perfectly good vintage behind.

The tavern had quieted somewhat, though a few determined drinkers still lingered. The bard had thankfully concluded his musical assault on the patrons' ears. Astarion guided Gale through the common room with a protective arm around his waist, shooting a warning glare at anyone who looked their way for too long.

The stairs proved challenging. Gale stumbled on the third step, and Astarion caught him with a laugh. "Careful, my love. I want you in one piece."

"Your fault entirely," Gale mumbled against his shoulder. "You've drained me in more ways than one."

They half-staggered, half-danced their way up to their room, bumping into walls and stifling laughter like drunken youths. Astarion fumbled with the key, distracted by Gale's lips on his neck.

Finally, the door swung open. They tumbled inside, Astarion kicking it shut behind them. The wine bottle dropped forgotten to the floor as Gale pulled him close, their bodies pressing together with familiar hunger.

Astarion backed Gale toward the bed, his hands already working at the fastenings of the wizard's robes. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing, mouths seeking each other in the darkness.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #gale of Waterdeep #bloodweave #myfic

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folanoflimbo · 1 year ago

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DAZZLER WORLD TOUR - Jason Loo and Rafael Louerio

New York, NY— May 15, 2024 — Let the music play! With the fall of Krakoa, the X-Men’s dream of coexistence has never felt more impossible. Luckily, mutantkind’s very own pop princess has a song that will unite the masses—and paint a big target on her back—in an all-new DAZZLER comic book limited series! From rising Marvel star Jason Loo (Sentry, Infinity Paws) and extraordinary Marvel newcomer artist Rafael Loureiro, DAZZLER will launch this September as part of the X-Men’s new From the Ashes era!

No stranger to headlining, Alison Blaire enjoyed a successful solo career outside the X-Men in the 1980s with the fondly remembered and long-running Dazzler series. Now, she’s back to inspire a whole new generation, spreading a message of love and acceptance one sold-out show at a time. Her tour is for everyone, but backstage, Alison is joined by a crew of fellow mutants—head of security Domino, personal guard Strong Guy, one-man roadie Multiple Man, drummer Shark-Girl, and expert publicist Wind Dancer! Anti-mutant fervor has never felt more personal, but anyone who tries to dim Dazzler’s light will just have to face the music!

OUT & PROUD AS A MUTANT AND BACK ON THE ROAD! Dazzler, Marvel’s glittering mutant songstress, has been in and out of the limelight over the years – but now the time has finally come for her to take center stage! Dazzler embarks on a new world tour, the culmination and celebration of her entire musical career. But while Dazzler may be ready to focus on her music, her celebrity-mutant status and a violent attack may sideline the entire endeavor before it’s even begun…

“Rafael and I are giving everyone backstage access to the greatest show of the decade: the Dazzler World Tour!” Loo said. “Sounds exciting? Not for Dazzler when she’s facing tons of pressure from all sorts of people trying to cancel her shows. But she’s not going down without a fight.”

“Ever since I can remember, I’ve been crazy about two things: music and drawing comics. To think that I would be able to combine both passions in my Marvel debut is beyond my wildest dreams. Not only that, but with such an amazing X-Men character as Dazzler—I absolutely had to jump at the chance!” Loureiro shared. “When I read Jason’s script, I kept thinking to myself ‘Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with this!’ Now, Dazzler has a special place in my heart, and I can almost hear her singing inside my head with every page that I draw. I’m honored to be a part of this project, bringing her into the spotlight for all readers and lifting her to her rightful place as a super star!”

Each issue of DAZZLER will also feature all-new song lyrics from Ali’s notebook!

“Get ready to sing along to some new, original songs off of her new album!” Loo added. “Some of them may be about her exes.”

#only 4 issues...#but still!!!!#super excited for this!!!!!!#x-men #dazzler #alison blaire #from the ashes

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parasiticjustice · 2 years ago

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[RGG Online Translation] Character Story · Kaoru Sayama

Summary: Ichiban happens across a strong-willed women fending off a pair of drunkards. Apparently, she has an interest in the Tojo Clan and Omi Alliance, and requests his help in pursuing a lead. Featured Characters: Ichiban Kasuga (RGGO version), Kaoru Sayama Spoilers?: Nope!

Kaoru was a launch character, and most of the stories from back then are a "where are they now?" sort of deal where RGGO Ichiban will run into some of the old guard in modern day Kamurocho. Granted, being a launch story also means that it's pretty short, and it only brings up Kaoru's relation to the main games a little bit, but still, the dynamic between her and Ichiban is pretty great.

Usual Disclaimer: I'm coming at this with little more than crude Japanese knowledge, a machine translation cocktail, and an insatiable desire for more RGG content. This will by no means be a decent translation, but it should at least be serviceable.

Notes:

This is RGGO Ichiban, which means this story is set in 2018 when he’s fighting against the Omi in Kamurocho instead of getting hustled over to Yokohama like in Y7. Which isn’t to say that this can’t be canon to the game version of Sayama: later character stories would start phasing out Ichiban so they could more neatly fit into the mainline LAD canon.

------------------ CHAPTER #1 ------------------

Scene #1: Kamurocho · Taihei Boulevard

Ichiban: Oh, I just noticed the time. I guess I should head home... Hm?

Woman's Voice: Hey! Get off of me!

Thug's Voice: Shut up! Just shut up and get over here!

Thug A: [angry] How are you gonna settle this, huh?

Woman: [angry] You boys aren't listening to me. I said I'd pay for it.

Thug B: [angry] And I said that wasn't enough!

Woman: Not enough? For this thing? ...Aaah, you lost me.

Thug A: It's not just a thing, it's my heart! You broke my heart!

Ichiban: Well, doesn't that suck.

Thug B: Right? ...Wait, who are you?

Ichiban: I'm just a passing meddler. So, what's with you big guys surrounding this one woman?

Thug A: This lady bumped into me outta nowhere. She broke something more important than my life!

Ichiban: Must've been serious, the way you're acting about it.

Woman: ...It was a flowerpot.

Ichiban: [confused] Huh? A flowerpot?

Thug B: Yeah, this woman bumped into my aniki and broke his precious flowerpot.

Ichiban: That's a cheap thing from Home Depot, no matter how you look at it... But she said she'd pay for it, right?

Thug A: Like I said, my heart is broken! That's why I can't let this pretty girl escape!

Ichiban: ...Yeah, you guys are drunk. Hey, lady, just get outta here.

Thug B: What the hell? Fuck you, dude!

Ichiban: [raises fists] Looks like you guys need a little straightening out.

[Battle]

Thugs: Ouch... It huuurts...

[they run off]

Ichiban: That should've sobered them up nicely. Those brats should head home and take a nap.

Ichiban: You okay, lady? This town is dangerous at night. I can look after you, if you're heading somewhere.

Woman: Thank you. But, before that...

Thugs: He's distracted, get hiiiiiim!!!

Ichiban: [raises fists] Whoa?! You're still here!

[the woman fires her gun]

Thugs: Guuuaaa!

Woman: [smile] ...Seems like you need protection of your own.

Ichiban: [surprised] Damn, that was awesome. Who are you, lady?

Woman: See for yourself.

Ichiban: A police notebook? So you're a detective...?

Sayama: My name is Kaoru Sayama. What's yours, Mr. Fuzzy Head?

Ichiban: Kasuga Ichiban.

Sayama: Thanks for helping out, Kasuga. See ya.

[she leaves]

Ichiban: [smile] She's cool...

[cut to Sayama]

Sayama: [surprised] Oh, whoops, I need to leave money for the flowerpot.

------------------ CHAPTER #2 ------------------

Scene #2: Kamurocho · Taihei Boulevard

Ichiban: Hm? That's the woman from the other day...

Ichiban: Hey, lady from before! Let's see, it was Sayama-chan... right?

Sayama: Just Sayama is fine. What are you up to?

Ichiban: What do you mean? I'm just wandering around aimlessly.

Sayama: Hmm... You seemed pretty used to fighting last time I saw you. And your get-up... are you a yakuza?

Ichiban: Well, I guess it looks that way. But no, I'm not.

[they move over to the Millenium Tower's entrance]

Sayama: You used to be one, then?

Ichiban: Well, yeah. You caught onto that quick.

Sayama: Occupational hazard, you could say. So, have you been in the city long?

Ichiban: You could say I've been here for a long time... but you could also say the opposite.

Sayama: Hmm, seems like you have some special circumstances... Say, have you heard anything about the fourth chairman of the Tojo clan?

Ichiban: [scratches head] Sorry, all I have is vague, secondhand info. I was in jail for a long time.

Sayama: [sad] I see...

Ichiban: Tell me, why are you after the fourth chairman? Do you have a score to settle?

Sayama: [smile] Hehe, do you think I'd tell a civilian that?

Ichiban: [smile] A civilian... yep, that's right! I'm totally a civilian, hahaha!

Omi Yakuza: So you've gone clean and gotten yourself a pretty gig, huh? Kasugaaaaa!

Sayama: [surprised] The Omi Alliance in Kamurocho...?! So the rumours were true...

Ichiban: [surprised] ...?!

Omi Yakuza: I hate it... I hate iiiiiit!

Ichiban: [raises fists] Tsk...!

[Battle]

Omi Yakuza: Hieeeeeee!

[he runs off]

Ichiban: [angry] Don't come at me if you ain't got the strength to back it up!

Sayama: ...

Ichiban: Thanks for the help, Sayama. You're pretty good at this, and you seem like a good cop too.

Sayama: ...I had heard that this town was controlled by the Omi Alliance now, instead of the Tojo Clan. I couldn't believe that the Tojo... anyway, I came to see for myself.

Ichiban: Yeah. You cops are in the Omi's pockets too, y'know. They turned a blind eye when the Omi took over.

Sayama: ...I had heard about that too. I've been trying to find evidence, but I'm having trouble catching a lead. If I could just find one of the gambling halls that those types might frequent...

Ichiban: A gambling den? I know about one. Never been there though, since it's run by Omi.

Sayama: [surprised] Really?! If that's the case... could you give me a hand, Kasuga?

------------------ CHAPTER #3 ------------------

Scene #3: Kamurocho · South Senryo Avenue

Sayama: Hey, are you sure this is the right place?

Ichiban: [confused] Should be... What's wrong?

Sayama: It's deserted, and there's no sign of anyone being here.

Ichiban: [scratches head] Strange, I definitely heard that it was somewhere around here...

Older Man: ...

Ichiban: See, I knew I was right. Let's follow him.

Sayama: [surprised] (That guy, I'm sure he's...)

[they follow him]

Older Man: ...

Ichiban: (It's an underground casino. Omi is in charge of it now.)

Sayama: (I recognize that man. I don't know him directly, but... I think... he's a general affairs executive. From Sakuradamon.)

Ichiban: (General affairs...? Isn't this a weird place for him?)

Sayama: (Idiot. It'd be too obvious if the usual yakuza associates were to act as liaisons. But still... it's hard to believe. )

Ichiban: (Can't argue with the evidence... Look, here comes the Omi.)

Omi Yakuza: Thank you for coming here.

General Affairs Executive: I'll be in trouble if I'm seen here. Can't you use your usual channels?

Omi Yakuza: My apologies, but lately, I've been smelling something fishy. Meeting face-to-face can be it's own kind of security.

General Affairs Executive: I can understand that. Still, I can't afford to be seen handling under the table payments.

Omi Yakuza: I'm aware. Let's get this over with quickly. Here are this month's sales. And here is...

General Affairs Executive: Sure, sure.

Omi Yakuza: Right, I've got it. That's it for me then.

Sayama: ...Hey, could you wait a moment?

General Affairs Executive: !!

Omi Yakuza: What in the hell...

Sayama: This is it for you. I saw your whole backroom deal.

General Affairs Executive: ...I'll leave this clean-up to you.

Omi Yakuza: On it.

Ichiban: Hold on there. You're not going anywhere, big guy.

Omi Yakuza: Asshole...

Omi Yakuzas: Boss, this guy is Ichiban Kasuga...!

Omi Yakuza: Oh, so he is... well, it doesn't matter. You guys, fuck him up!!

Omi Yakuzas: Raaah!

Ichiban: [raises fists] Let's go, Sayama!

Sayama: [angry] Of course!

[Battle]

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

Scene #4: Kamurocho · South Senryo Avenue

General Affairs Executive: ...

Ichiban: [yell] Wait! Stop right there!

Sayama: I lost sight of him... he was really booking it.

Ichiban: Just shows how guilty he is. I was really close, but he still got away.

Sayama: ...Kasuga, you're a civilian now, right? Why are you getting involved with the Omi?

Ichiban: ...This city is like a parent to me. I lost everything I ever had here, but thankfully, I'm finding friends and a place to be again. [angry] That's why I can't forgive those Omi bastards for polluting the city.

Sayama: [smile] I see... hehe.

Ichiban: [confused] Hey, what's that laugh for?

Sayama: The police, and their colluding with Omi... I'll stick around for a while, do some digging. Kasuga, you seem the reliable sort. Will you help me out? Of course, I'll help you in turn.

Ichiban: [smile] Of course. Let's join forces and drive those Omi out!

[screen fades to black]

Sayama: Hehe... it's funny... I seem to have a lot of connections to this town.

------END------ ------------------

Sayama: [smile] Hehe, do you think I'd tell a civilian that? Ichiban: [smile] A civilian... yep, that's right! I'm totally a civilian, hahaha!

Whenever they talk about Ichiban being a civilian, they're using the term katagi, which generally means someone who's in a decent, "respectable" position in society (ie. not a yakuza, criminal, prostitute, etc.) It's sort of a running gag that people will immediately assume Ichiban is a yakuza based on his look and manner, and he'll insist that he's katagi (he even described the term himself to Nair). This bit here I think is kinda riffing on that gag, with Ichiban surprised that he's actually being recognised as katagi.

#ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #ichiban kasuga #kaoru sayama #rgg #rggo #rgg online #yakuza

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