#i love the early and mid game but late game is so annoying

[ganondoodle]

i wish i could say i have been working on projects but the truth is i have just been playing stardew valley again every second of free time i have bc it seems to be the only thing that keeps my mind from destroying itself atm

[expedition33]

thank u treasure islands...

[puck-luck]

smutception | jack hughes

warnings: EXTREMELY META, elevator sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, spit kink, dom/sub tones, thigh riding, attempted phone sex, cum on the body, slight degradation, name calling, masturbation, handjob, squirting, tittyfucking, i don’t even know what else. this was a long one with a LOT of shit. pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: inspired by a request from @captainlexaproluvr, which is far too long to paste here. here’s our summary instead: when jh accidentally picks up his gf’s kindle for a roadie instead of his own, he finds some surprising books downloaded. they give him a few ideas for what he’ll do when he gets home in a week… wc: 10,002

The bus rides to the airport are never fun, in Jack’s opinion. He loves his teammates, but they’re loud and annoying. He’s loud and annoying too, most of the time, but he started a really good book yesterday. He’s been thinking about reading it all day. Jack made sure to pack his Kindle in his bag, even though he had gotten distracted by your goodbye.

It started when he got back from Prague, after the Global Series. He had written off your excitement to see him as a one time thing, fueled by missing him and manifesting in an intense need for him to make it up to you– you had stopped the elevator from the garage of his apartment building and begged him to take you right there. He did, obviously, and the rush that went up his spine from how public it was led to a conversation about how Jack definitely wanted to do stuff like that again. 

He was right about one part: you jumping his bones after a roadie was a one-time-thing. The pattern changed– now, you have a habit of doing something different in bed before his roadies. It’s become somewhat of a superstition for Jack.

There was the short roadie in mid-October, when he’d gone down to Carolina and up to Ottawa for a few days. You had woken him up early that morning, kissing him and poking at him until he got fed up and pinned your wrists down. You made him late that morning, delaying the team bus for the airport, because you just had to roll your hips against his morning wood. Then, while you packed a little roadie snack for him, you just had to be naked. It’s not his fault he wanted to bend his pretty girlfriend over the counter and ruin her again.

When you joined him for the first game of his Canadian tour (Vancouver for the Hughes Bowl, then Calgary and Edmonton), Jack and Luke decided to fly with you from Jersey to Michigan to meet up with the parents ahead of time. Then, you all flew together from Michigan to Vancouver. That was normal.

What wasn’t normal was when you leaned over to Jack in the middle of the plane ride and whispered, “You know what might be fun?” with a squeeze to his clothed cock before disappearing towards the bathrooms. It took a few minutes for that one to click (and a picture of your bare tits that you sent Jack from the bathroom over the airplane WiFi), but he ended up fucking you in that tiny, cramped, closet-sized bathroom. It was thrilling.

Jack went to Florida after that– before he left, you rode his face on the living room couch while jacking him off until he came with the tip of his cock just past your lips.

He really missed the goodbyes for the first half of December, when the only away game he had was about an hour away on Long Island. It barely counted, but Jack whined about needing his good luck charm anyway, so you’d gotten down on your knees and sucked his cock all while grinding against a pillow between your legs, coming from just that. Jack was too distracted by the thought of you rutting against the pillow because you were drunk off of his cock to play well that night.

He’d liked it so much that he’d asked you to do it again before he left for Columbus and St. Louis and you’d eagerly complied. It wasn’t any less sexy the second time around.

Jack loves your goodbyes. He loves you, obviously, and would love you even if you weren’t giving him these goodbye gifts, but they’re just so special. Jack is addicted. 

He doesn’t know where you’re getting the ideas from– the position or act is never something that pops into his head. Maybe that’s why he likes it so much. Maybe he likes that you’re the one taking charge and expecting things from him, although he equally loves when he gets to do whatever he wants with you on a regular day. 

Now, he’s leaving for California. He has two games in Carolina first, but then he’ll be on the west coast for a while. He’ll be gone for Christmas and New Years, which is annoying. He knows that it’s just the way that things worked out scheduling-wise, but he likes getting to shower you with presents and watch you open them, and he likes to drink a lot of alcohol with you and kiss you at midnight to ring in the next year. 

You made up for it this morning, your goodbye causing him to forget about any gripe he might’ve had about missing you for so long. You appeared in the doorway as he was packing up the last of his bags, wearing this flouncy little white nightgown with tiny roses decorating it like polka dots. It was the picture of innocence, but your actions were anything but. That enough was to drive Jack crazy, but when you sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his thigh, it shattered any possibility of functional thought. You told him not to touch you, pouting about being left alone for so long on your own– and you proved to him that you can take care of yourself just fine. 

If he thought watching you grind against a pillow was bad, it was even worse to have you soiling his dress pants with your slick and your cum. All the while, he couldn’t touch you– it was torture. It was madness. It was the hottest thing Jack has ever seen. 

After you came all over his thigh, you helped Jack change out of his pants– that was your excuse to get your lips on his cock and prevent him from arriving to player check-in with a raging erection– and chose a new outfit for him to wear. You’d kissed his lips and patted his side, reminding him not to forget his Kindle because you knew how excited he was to finish his new book on the way to Cali. 

You left to get ready for the day and he had, on embarrassingly wobbly legs, wandered around the house to find his pocket-library. It wasn’t where he left it, but he ended up finding it on one of the bookcases in his living room, swiping it and tossing it into his backpack without another thought because he was, once again, running late. 

It’s a habit now. The boys have joked about buying him a better watch and Jack goes along with it, but he knows that he’ll be late no matter how good his watch is or how early he sets it. As long as you keep saying goodbye to him like this, he’s going to be a poor teammate– he’d rather experience this than be on time, any day of the week.

Your moans from this morning are echoing in his mind, so Jack pops his headphones in and presses shuffle on the playlist he was already listening to. He digs his Kindle out of his book to offer himself another distraction. It’s going to take a lot of overstimulation to prevent another boner, which means he’s going to read his book, the one he’s been so excited about. If he finishes it, he’ll get to update his Good Reads and recommend it to Quinn. 

He traces the lines of the electronic before turning it on, touching the charging port and the power button. Jack smiles. The Kindle had been a gift from you on his birthday. The week after, he had bought you the exact same one. You had matching Kindles and you often shared books like your own little book club. He’s read romances because of you and you’ve read biographies of athletes because of him. It’s fun for him. This is special to him because he’s never done something like this with any of his other girlfriends. It gives him hope that you guys will stay together as long as possible. 

Jack finally turns the Kindle on, stopping short at the sight of the photo of the home screen. This isn’t his Kindle. He accidentally swiped yours.

It’s too late to turn the bus back and with him being on the move, it would just be too much hassle to ask you to mail his Kindle to the hotel. 

Jack chuckles to himself a little bit, digging his phone out of his pocket. He types out a text to you: Accidentally took your Kindle instead of mine :(

It isn’t long until the text bubble signaling your incoming reply appears. Sorry :( just download your book onto my account <3 I’ll read my books on yours in the meantime. 

Then, a second text: At work so can’t reply again til later :( have a good trip J ily!!!! Talk to you soon!!!

Jack replies I love you too and puts his phone away. He clicks through your Kindle, which automatically opened to the app that houses your library of books. He scrolls through, recognizing some of the titles and not recognizing the others. While sliding his finger along the screen, he accidentally fumbles the Kindle as the bus goes over a bump. When he gets a hold on the device again, he sees that his finger tapped one of your books and it opened. 

Jack goes to exit out, ready to download the book he’d been waiting for, and then he spots a familiar name in the first line.

He reads the sentence like a habit– that’s what you do when you see your name somewhere, right? 

The first page is just half of a page. It’s exposition and it’s looking like this book is somewhat of a romance, but he can’t really tell all that much.

“Every year, you go to the lake house with Jack.”

Like any good first line, it leaves Jack intrigued. Who is Jack? Where’s this lake house? How long have you been going? You say every year, but how many years is that?

Jack immediately thinks of his own lake house. He misses Michigan. His imagination solves one of his questions: the lake house in this story, in his mind, is in Michigan. It’s on the same lake as his and it looks the exact same. ‘Every year’ is vague enough that Jack can accept it. It’s meant to be vague. Only one question remains: who is this Jack guy? 

It’s fun to have a character that shares a name with you, so Jack reads on. He’s determined to figure out who this guy is. 

“The past few trips, it’s been a special occasion. You get your mid-summer break from work and you get to spend time with your boyfriend.”

So Jack is the boyfriend of the main character. Jack laughs to himself again– maybe you downloaded this book so that you could think about your boyfriend while you read it. He’s tempted to text you again with a picture of the page, but since you’re at work, you won’t reply for a while. If he’s going to rib you for reading a book about a guy with the same name as him, he wants you to be able to reply immediately. 

“You’ll sit on the patio and watch him fool around with his brothers. You know them both well after dating Jack for so long, but you’re closer with Luke. After all, he rented out the second bedroom in your and Jack’s New Jersey apartment this entire past year. You know Luke better than you ever thought you would because of that.”

Jack is starting to purse his lips as he reads. He has brothers. One of them is named Luke. He lives in New Jersey with his girlfriend and Luke lived with them last year. He’s since moved out, but the coincidence is still there. It’s still…

Weird.

He reads on anyway.

“Jack loves your relationship with his brothers–”

True. 

“but what he doesn’t love is when all of your skin is on display all day for everyone to see. Your little bikinis drive him insane– because everything he wants is right there, but he can’t have it.”

Jack is a little confused about the turn this is taking. This is only the second page of the book– he told himself he wouldn’t read past the first one, but this is just too intriguing– and it’s already talking about sex? The characters are in a long term relationship, so it’s not like this is a one-night-stand, inciting-incident sort of thing. Why would the book start here?

Also– the romances he’s read because of you are a lot more tame than this. Already, he’s starting to squint at the Kindle in disbelief. Is this the kind of shit that you read on your own? He’s ribbed you in the past for not updating your Good Reads enough and now he gets it. Maybe you don’t want the whole world (all of your followers, including your boyfriend and his older brother) to know that you’re reading porn.

“All of his frustration at not being able to do anything about your skimpy clothing comes to a head one day when the Hughes house–”

Jack stops in his tracks. The other coincidences were fine. Jack is a common name. Luke is a common name. Everyone has brothers. Lots of people have lake houses. New Jersey is just one out of fifty states in the U.S.– almost ten million people live there, partially because of its proximity to New York City. 

But all of it together– Jack and Luke Hughes, living together in New Jersey, with another, older brother and a lake house– Jack is convinced. This book was written about him.

He knows fanfiction exists. He’s never interacted with it before, but he has known about fanfiction since the early 2010s. There were a couple of girls in his classes in middle school that loved One Direction and they would talk about fanfiction all the time. It was just amongst themselves, but Jack sat right next to them, so he couldn’t really help but eavesdrop.

Jack knows that he went viral after the draft, considering the influx of people that have followed him in the years since. A lot of those followers, and he’s not bragging, have been women. He just didn’t expect to ever find fanfiction about himself. He thought that was a thing for actors and musicians, not athletes… but the evidence is right in his hands.

Another thing clicks. You, his girlfriend, were reading fanfiction about him. You have it downloaded to your Kindle. Why would you do that if you’ve got the real thing? You could just call his name and he’d be there. Jack isn’t exactly coy about wanting to get it on with you. You’re the one who’s batting him away more often than him brushing you off. He’s always had a higher sex drive than you and been more overt about it–

…until recently.

Jack looks up from the Kindle and he starts to grin. He catches himself and brings his hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his bottom row of teeth with the tip of his fingernail. 

His initial surprise, which manifested in that weird smile and his breath of laughter, turns into a brief flash of judgment.

It’s weird that his girlfriend is reading fanfiction about him. He’s right there. Does he not satisfy you enough? Are you unhappy with how he acts in bed? You’ve never complained– if you don’t like something, you should talk to him. Right?

Jack finds himself frowning and clicking through the Kindle again. He’s searching for something in particular– the book that compiles all of your highlights and notes. He knows how you are– you’re a highlighter. You have a lot of opinions and thoughts about the things you read and you’re all about writing them down. You do it so you don’t forget what to say when you talk about your books with Jack later. There’s no way that you didn’t have anything to say about the porn about your boyfriend.

He finds the highlights and notes easily. He starts to flick through it, scanning the page for comments from books that he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t find anything until the tenth page of notes. 

He catches the first comment in the same way that he discovered your smut-stash in the first place. He sees his name.

“Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.”

Jack’s lips part in surprise. He taps the highlight, looking for more information. He’s looking for your comment– and all he gets is an “oh.”

It’s frustratingly vague. “Oh”? What does that even mean?

Jack releases a scoff and clicks along. He reads the sentence again, this time focusing on a familiar detail. Jack was fucking his girlfriend in an elevator. You jumped his bones in the elevator a few weeks ago. Jack’s not sure that’s a coincidence– after all, none of the details in the first story were coincidental.

He checks when you left that comment– and he was right. You left the comment while he was in Prague.

Jack feels a bit like a detective as he repeats the process, searching for more highlights and comments. He finds several interesting ones:

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully” was also highlighted while he was in Prague.

“You make your way into the bathroom and press your back against the door, feeling lightheaded at the rush– in just a few minutes, you’re going to have your boyfriend’s cock inside of you, but thousands of feet off the air. The thought of it, how dirty it is to have sex in such a public yet confined space, makes you whimper” while he was in Carolina and Ottawa.

“‘Wanna sit on this pretty face,’ you tell him. ‘While I gag on your cock’” while he was in Edmonton. 

The next one is– dirtier. Jack feels warm when he reads it. You highlighted it while he was gone in Florida and it’s clearly the inspiration for the goodbye you gave him before he went to Long Island that one night, the night when you nearly gave him a heart attack by coming on the pillow between your legs.

The other part that you highlighted… didn’t happen… but Jack has a feeling that you want to try it, given the comment you left on the highlighted page.

“Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weight next to nothing.”

Your comment says: “...& he spits on the ice all the time but never in MY mouth??”

He would if you asked. But that’s not the end of the quote– his favorite part is yet to come.

“The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs.”

Yeah, he likes that one.

The final comment that Jack reads is from his most recent roadie in Ohio and Missouri. It’s what happened this morning. 

“‘Nah, I don’t think I will,’ Jack replies. ‘How about you get yourself off on my thigh and I’ll consider rewarding you for being so pretty and self-sufficient?’... ‘Let me see how pretty you are when you make yourself come, thinking of me.’ Your hips are rocking along the strong muscle of his thigh as he kisses you again.”

“Dirty girl,” Jack murmurs aloud, not realizing that he said such a thing audibly. Luckily, Nico is the only one close enough to hear him, and he always sleeps like a rock when they’re driving to the airport, or on the plane, or driving to the hotel from the airport. It’s the perfect combination.

So you’ve been reading smut while Jack is away. You’ve been getting ideas from fanfiction about how to fuck him.

Jack should be upset and uncomfortable because you’re reading about a fake version of him, but really, he’s just turned on. You think about him. If it was some other guy, maybe he’d be more upset… but no. You’re reading fanfiction about him and recreating the parts you like with him. Even in your little romance books, you want to read about him.

He’s elated, because, well… two can play at that game.

Jack was excited to read his book, but reading your books seems like a much better time and a much better way to entertain himself on this roadie.

He spends the next two weeks perusing your Kindle library for more books about him. They’re all short and most of them are written in second person, although some are in first and third person. Most commonly, though, it’s in second person as some sort of “Reader-puts-herself-in-Main-Character’s-shoes” sort of thing. Jack doesn’t like the books where the author writes “Y/N.” He’s not quite sure what it stands for, so he just tries to avoid it. 

Is it weird that he’s reading fanfiction about himself? Maybe, but he tries not to think about it too long. He’s doing it for you, for his girlfriend, because he wants to show you exactly what he found. Dirty, dirty girl.

About halfway through the roadie, he tries to hint that he knows about your secret. You’re on the phone and he tries to start a little phone sex action based on something he read the other day, when Merc left the hotel room and Jack was left alone. He’s alone again now. He doesn’t know where Dawson is, so he isn’t very subtle with his hinting.

He just parrots his favorite sentence back to you. 

“So, baby,” Jack says, grinning to himself. “‘Why don’t you touch your pretty little clit for me?’”

It doesn’t work. You just start laughing. “Jesus, J. That came out of nowhere.”

Jack pouts to himself. Maybe you haven’t read that one yet. He figured you would recognize the words.

He gives up on the reveal, deciding to save it for when he’s home in just another week. He gets to tell you how much he misses you and how much he wishes he could see you. He wishes you a belated Merry Christmas and he gets to spend midnight on the phone with you– your time, not his. He blows a kiss through the phone… and that’s that.

He’s back to being alone with your little stories. Jack’s able to restrain himself for the most part, but he is willing to admit that they pique his interest... and his cock sometimes grows to reflect just how interested he is.

He returns to the first story on the bus ride back from the airport to Jersey. It’s symmetrical that way and he kind of likes the idea of finishing his journey with your Kindle and your fanfictions where it originally began. It’s a full circle moment.

The story is a few thousand words, just about ten pages on the device. There are multiple rounds written into it– definitely a score, because in real life, multiple rounds is a luxury for Jack. He gets sleepy after the first and needs a break. Fictional Jack might be setting some unrealistic standards compared to real Jack, but at least real Jack can actually fuck you. All fictional Jack can do is… allude to it. He never actually gets to do it.

Jack’s favorite part of the story comes toward the end. You’ve been wearing your bikinis all summer, teasing Jack with the knowledge of what’s beneath the scrap of fabric. He’s seen your tits plenty of times before, but it always gives him a thrill to see them. One of his favorite things is getting to come all over them and mark them as his, which fictional Jack gets to do.

“You kneel below him, looking up at him with wide and bleary eyes. Jack smirks at you, his hand leisurely stroking his cock. His tip is an angry red, bleeding precum from his slit, but he still doesn’t increase his pace.

‘Ask me for it,’ Jack says, tilting his head to the side. When you open your mouth, Jack taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip, distracting you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum away, but Jack evades you, laughing softly. ‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right? You want to walk around with your tits out all the time, but you’re so easy for my cock. You’re all mine, aren’t you?’

‘Jack, please,’ you pout. ‘I want your cum. Come on my tits.’

Jack slows his hand. Then, he stops stroking himself altogether.

‘What–’ you question involuntarily, brows furrowing and frown deepening. You push your chest out, trying to make the canvas more appealing for Jack. Why did he stop?

‘Give me your hand,’ Jack instructs, holding his hand out with his palm up so that you can take it. You give him your hand, waiting for him to help you up like a gentleman. That’s how this feels, like the momentum of the moment has completely halted. You’re so confused that you’d accept it if Jack just… denied you completely.

Instead, he brings your hand to his cock. He encourages you to curl your fingers around the length, watching your eyes as it slowly dawns on you. You resume his pace, lacking confidence at first and then realizing that this is better.

‘Do it yourself,’ Jack says. ‘You want me to mark you up?’ He bucks his hips forward once, just to throw off your rhythm. ‘Make me.’

You’re whimpering a little bit, puffing out your chest again and shuffling closer on your knees. Your body is practically brushing his from mere proximity. Your other hand comes to Jack’s thigh, tracing his light hair gently in comparison to the increasingly rapid strokes to his length.

Jack gathers your hair in his hand like he does when he fucks your mouth. As if on instinct, you open your mouth. Jack’s smirk reappears. ‘Easy,’ he reminds you again, taking his other hand and cradling your chin. He tilts your head back and spits, aiming at your lips. The difference is, he’s standing and you’re kneeling, so the spit doesn’t find its mark. Instead, it lands on your face. You blink in surprise and Jack uses his thumb to corral the saliva towards your mouth. There’s nothing really left by the time his thumb finds your lips, but you latch on like his digit is a flowing faucet in the middle of Death Valley.”

It turns out, spit is a thing for Jack too. He’s always liked to come on your body, but he didn’t even consider the possibility of a different liquid. Coming on you is a possession thing, and spitting is similar… it’s demeaning, showing that you’re under his control, but Jack likes it because you’d trust him enough to take it. It’s gross, but you’d still let him spit on you and into your mouth.

Well, in theory. He’ll see if you’re actually willing to do such a thing tonight.

Like he said, two can play at that game.

Jack barely bids adieu to his teammates. He speeds home, probably faster than he should knowing how the NJPD can be. He has no plan for if he gets pulled over. Luckily, he doesn’t, and he makes it home in record time. 

You’re asleep in bed. It’s early in the morning, but only about an hour before your alarm goes off for work. Timing might be the one thing that really annoys Jack about his job– the game wasn’t finished in California until almost one in the morning in New Jersey, then he had to take the bus to the airport, fly home, take the bus back to Prudential Center, and drive home. It took more time than he wanted it to and he feels bad waking you up, so Jack just climbs into bed and wraps his arms around your sleeping figure. You must’ve felt bad about waking him, because when he blinks his eyes open, you’ve already left for work.

Jack doesn’t find a good time to reveal your secret in the days after his return. You both do your normal routine. Jack returned on Tuesday. His next away trip isn’t until Friday, and once again, it’s a one-night, tiny roadie. He’s only going 30 minutes up the road to MSG. You’re coming with him. By all accounts, he shouldn’t even count it as a roadie.

Jack is desperate to show you that he knows. He also wants you to know that he’s okay with it– that he likes that you read about him and imagine him while he’s gone. He might be eager and rushing things, but this is his first chance to catch you off guard and he’s going to take it. He wants to establish this new routine early– now.

He sits on the couch, his hockey bag already packed and by the door. It’s a night game, so you’ll have time to get ready after work. Jack doesn’t have time. He’s hoping to intercept you as you walk through the apartment door, getting his kicks before he ends up being too late to the arena. Because it’s so close, he gets to drive himself to the arena. He can speed again, but New York City is so fickle with traffic that he knows he’ll run into trouble if you don’t get home, like, imminently. 

Big word, yes, but he’s been reading a lot lately. He was always better in school than Quinn and Luke, too. Not a brag– just a fact.

He also seems to have a future (ha, get it?) in predicting the future, because you arrive home just a few minutes later. You set your stuff down on the dining room table before joining Jack on the couch and greeting him with a little kiss.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” you say, pressing another kiss to his lips and curling into his side. 

Jack wraps his arm around your waist and grins at you, crooked and shit-eating. “Couldn’t leave without getting my good luck charm first, eh?”

You laugh at him, pressing your hand against his chest, right over his heart. “It’s barely a roadie. You’re literally coming back here tonight and I’m going to the game.”

“You know how hockey players are with their superstitions,” Jack pouts, poking your side until you let out a sarcastic and dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes while you climb onto his lap like you don’t love sitting there. 

“I know how my hockey player is with his superstitions,” you reply, placing your palms on Jack’s jaw and squishing his cheeks together a little bit. 

Jack wiggles beneath you, still grinning and jostling you on his lap in the process. He’s already half-hard from his excitement about surprising you with your own fantasy. 

“But,” you continue. Your hands fall to his chest again. “I don’t have any ideas for you, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I have plenty.”

You laugh, tossing your head back. “Of course you do.”

“Well, I was reading this book on my roadie,” Jack starts.

“Oh, yeah, we never talked about that. Was it good? I know you were really excited to read about–”

“Not that one,” Jack interrupts. “I didn’t end up reading that. I’ll probably read it when we go to Toronto next week.”

A look of confusion passes over your face. “Then what did you read?” You question.

Jack just smiles, waiting for it to click in your head. There’s only so much that he’d be able to read on your Kindle. You’d read one of your normal books last night and clearly hadn’t noticed anything different on the device, so you can’t immediately think of a book that Jack would read.

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “What did you read?” You repeat, voice cautious.

Jack wiggles his eyebrows, hands inching down to cover your behind. He rolls his hips up against your core. He’s still smiling.

Your lips part, mouthing half of an interrogative word to yourself while you think. You’re fiddling with Jack’s t-shirt, evaluating him.

Jack brings a hand up to your neck, cupping the back and pulling you in for a kiss. You come easily, kissing Jack’s lips. Your movements are slightly stilted, still thinking about Jack’s literary options.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to your jaw. He lets his thumb and his forefinger smush your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Wait– open your mouth again, baby?” Jack prompts, feigning concern. 

You automatically obey him, still looking confused. “What?” You try to ask with an open mouth, the word coming out garbled. 

Jack grins, subtly gathering a wad of saliva in his mouth while he looks into your mouth. There was nothing there, he just needed an excuse to get your mouth open. This is better than outright saying it. From your comments, he knows that you’re at least interested. If you hate it, you’ll talk about it later. He wants to see the realization on your face. It’s a big risk, knowing that you could cringe and flinch and react negatively, but Jack has a feeling you won’t.

He grips your cheeks, keeping your mouth open as wide as you’ll allow. Jack misses the flash of alarm and understanding in your eyes because he’s busy aiming at your mouth. Jack spits his saliva onto your tongue and releases his grip on your cheeks. Your mouth clamps shut and you stare at him, eyes wide and thoroughly shocked.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, satisfied by your frozen figure atop his lap. He checks the clock over your shoulder, seeing that he’s really running out of time. He was supposed to leave about five minutes ago. 

An idea pops into Jack’s head. He could leave you here, processing things, and go play his game. Then, he can come back later and pick up where he left off. 

Deciding to do that, Jack plops a chaste kiss on your lips before he stands, still cradling you with your knees squeezing his hips, but legs not quite wrapped around his middle. He lays you on the couch and kisses you again before returning to his full height. He thumbs over your bottom lip as if he’s wiping away his kiss. 

“Bye, baby,” Jack bids you, then gathers his stuff and leaves the apartment.

You don’t say anything or move an inch until after he’s gone.

Jack plays a great game. He knows you’re in the wag suite and he knows that he makes it onto the jumbotron a few times– probably even more on the live television feed that plays in the suite– just because of how well he’s playing. He makes sure to spit on the ice way more often than he normally does, just to send you a message.

In the back of his head, Jack realizes that people who write fanfiction will be thirsting over these clips of him spitting. Good. More things for you to read while he’s gone.

You’re home by the time he makes it back. You’re on him from the second he walks through the front door. 

“You read my–”

“Your secret fanfiction?” Jack teases. “It was an accident at first, but then I realized who it was about.”

You groan, whining as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Jack knows you’re blushing and he just laughs, cradling your body in his arms. Jack kisses the side of your head, burying his nose in your hair and smelling your shampoo.

“Is that why you spat in my mouth?” You question, voice muffled against his skin. 

Jack laughs again, smiling and swinging you around in his arms playfully. “You seemed to like that bit in your books.”

“It was only in, like, one,” you deflect. 

Jack snorts. “It was in four, baby, and those are just the ones that I read.”

You grumble again, pressing your lips against his neck in a miserable kiss. “You’re so weird,” you tell him. 

“You’re the one reading fanfiction about your boyfriend while he’s away,” Jack replies. “Then you’re recreating it.” He pauses. “‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right?’”

“Oh my God,” you wail.

“Tell me, baby, what do you do when you’re reading those little stories? Do you touch yourself?”

“Jack,” you complain.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ll take my spit in your mouth but you won’t tell me if you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

“You are so weird,” you say again. 

Jack feels triumphant, proud of himself. He’s glad that you’re still wrapped up in his arms, even though you’re embarrassed and red. 

“Can I recreate my favorite one?” Jack asks, kissing your head again. “Like you did?”

You pull back from him, fingers finding the nape of his neck and toying with his hair. You seem skeptical, eying him. “You really read them enough to have a favorite one?” You ask, bottom lip sticking out for Jack to lean down and capture between his teeth. 

He nibbles playfully until you start tugging at his locks, convincing him to back away. “‘Course I did,” Jack says, shrugging. “These writers seem to think I’m very good at pleasing you.”

You start to laugh, shaking your head.

“Do you write them?” Jack asks.

That brings you up short. “Do I write them?”

“Yeah. You know how I fuck best, don’t you?” Jack taps your nose with his own. “So, do you write?”

You make a face. “No. I’m not much of a writer.”

That’s true– you’ve often complained to Jack about how you’d like to be able to write as well as your favorite authors. He should’ve thought about that. Instead, he goes back to his most pressing question.

“So?” Jack asks.

“So, what?”

“Can we recreate one?”

He wants you in a tiny bikini or your prettiest push-up bra, your meticulous hand jerking his cock until he comes all over your chest. He wants to spit in your mouth again.

“Which one?”

Jack detangles you from his arms and crosses over to the thermostat. He punches up the heat to 80ºF, turning to look at you.

“Oh, no,” he simpers sarcastically. “It’s so hot in here. It’s like when we’re at the lake house in Michigan during the summer and you wear your bikini around the house all day, teasing me.”

You look thoroughly unimpressed. “You don’t have to turn up the thermostat. You can just ask me to put on my bikini, baby.”

Jack sticks his tongue out at you and resets the thermostat. “Will you put on your bikini for me?”

“Yes. Also, J, I didn’t read that one yet.”

Jack is delighted. He really gets to guide you through this, leaving you in the dark like he was the first few times you acted out a fanfiction together without his knowledge. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll be just as surprised as I was when I read it.”

You roll your eyes once more, hiding a smile, before you disappear down the hall and into the bedroom. Jack puts his hockey stuff on the balcony like always. You tend to complain that it stinks. He’s used to it by now, having played hockey for so many years. The smell is nothing.

He joins you in the bedroom and finds you in your bikini, just like you said you’d be. It’s the white one that you’ve had for ages, since before Jack started begging you to go to the gym with him. He asked you to do so so that he could watch you work out and get all sweaty– hot– and he doesn’t regret it one bit. You were less broad then. The musculation broadened your hips and your chest, like it was expected to. Age has also helped– you once complained to Jack about looking different than you used to, so he looked it up so that he could find some way to comfort you that was steeped in fact rather than sympathetic words, and he found that women go through a second kind of puberty in their life where they become even more womanly. That’s the best way he can describe it. Jack doesn’t care that your body has “changed” since he started dating you. He barely even notices, except in moments like these. 

The swimsuit is small on you. It doesn’t cover everything the way it used to when you first bought it. The triangular cups spread only so far over your tits, leaving sideboob for Jack to gawk at. The bottoms are wrenched up over your hips and you’re facing away from him, so he gets to see the way that the fabric bunches and tries to ride up between your cheeks. 

He can’t help it. He crosses the room and grabs at your ass, completely groping you. It would be inappropriate if you weren’t together and minutes away from fucking. Luckily, Jack gets to touch you whenever he wants. It’s the best thing ever.

“Ja-ack,” you complain, drawing his name out and turning towards him. Jack is reluctant to let go of your lower half, so he circles his arms around your waist to keep his hands on your skin. He splays his fingers out as much as he can before he cups the weight of your behind in each palm, pointedly inching closer to grind his hips against your front. 

“Pretty girl,” Jack compliments, claiming your lips again with his. He never gets enough of kissing you. 

You kiss him back, then you bring your hands down and grope his ass in the exact same manner as he’s groping yours. 

“Hey,” Jack exclaims, his touch flying to your hands and removing them. 

“Oh, so you can do it but I can’t?” You question. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have an ass like yours!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

This is your go-to line when Jack compliments your figure– particularly your ass and your tits. He was absolutely shocked and affronted the first time you pulled that line out of thin air, but this time might be the millionth time you’ve asked him if he thinks you’re fat, so he’s used to it.

Jack bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows, putting his hands on your assets again. “Calling your ass fat,” he replies. “I love this fat ass.” He punctuates his tease with a squeeze.

You burst out laughing. “You’re so fucking weird!” You repeat again.

“Get on your knees,” Jack says. He’s trying to inflect his words like Bob asking Linda to undress in Bob’s Burgers. He knows you’ll get the reference, even though you don’t react.

You give him a little look, just a slight cut of your eyes, and then you kneel down. Jack’s cock twitches in his pants at the mere sight of it.

He cups your jaw with one hand and tilts your chin up, biting his lip as he admires you. “Easy,” Jack says.

“Well, I’m not going to fucking fight you, Jack. You’re the one who wants to recreate this fanfiction and I’ve never read it, so obviously I’m going to listen–”

While your mouth is moving, Jack gathers spit. Instead of letting it fly from his mouth towards your face, Jack lets it drip in a long line until you realize what he’s doing and stop talking. He quirks an eyebrow, prompting you. 

You open your mouth again and let his saliva fall onto your tongue. 

Jack pats your cheek and you close your lips. Jack waits, but he sees no movement in your throat. 

“Swallow,” he tells you.

And you do. 

Jack can’t really describe the feeling that washes over him. It’s simultaneously exciting that you will take anything he gives you and like an honor that you’ll do something so– odd? Is that the word? Jack doesn’t know– just because he asked you to.

There’s also the sexy bit, where it’s something from his body that you’re swallowing. He’s always loved it when you swallow his seed, but that’s so much more normalized. Every guy likes that. Not every guy does this spit thing.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says. He bends down and kisses your forehead as a reward. 

You don’t seem to have the words to form a reply.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks. He needs to make sure that your speechlessness is because it’s sexy and you like it, not because you’re staying quiet and dealing with his actions, just waiting it out until he’s finished. Then, you’ll never do it again and he’ll never be the wiser that you hated it.

You nod. “Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I like it.”

Jack’s anxiety melts. “I’m not making you do this?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s–” You shrug and look down.

“Tell me,” Jack implores gently. “I need to know.”

“It’s different is all. Now I’m thinking about it too much, I don’t want to think about it.” You pout up at Jack, looking a little sad. 

He wants to solve it for you. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. As long as you like it, that’s enough.”

“I like it,” you confirm. You touch his knee, then the front of his pants. “Can I show you how much I like it?”

Jack nods, bringing his hands to his belt and undoing it. He unzips himself and drops the dress pants to his ankles, letting you do the work on his briefs. “You can,” Jack says. “But you have to stop before I come.”

You’re pulling him out of his underwear as he speaks, but you pause when he tells you when you have to stop. You look up at him, hand circling his cock. He’s been growing hard this whole time, so his cock is standing out towards your face even without your hand guiding it. Once, you were making fun of him, and you compared his dick to a compass trying to find “true North”– you. Jack has thought about that moment every single time you take his cock out since you said it. He’s been able to move past it, but he thinks about it nonetheless.

“I’m never the problem when it comes to stopping,” you bite at him, your words pointed and knowing. 

“Fuck off,” Jack sneers playfully. You might be right, but that’s not fair. He likes to come, he doesn’t want to stop himself. “Suck my dick, baby.”

You stick out your tongue at him, but then you take him in your mouth.

Like most times, all thought leaves Jack’s head. When he fucks you, or when you’re taking care of him, there’s rarely anything actually flowing through his head. His mind is just automatically filled with holy shit– mouth– warm– tongue– oh, I hope you do that again– fuck, shit, oh my God– wait, don’t thrust, you don’t want to gag too much– on a loop. 

When he looks at you, his heart is lurching because of the slopes of your cheekbones and the wide, blown out look in your eyes. He can’t look at you and feel your movements at the same time because he will come down your throat. He’s just a man. He’s simple. 

Jack takes you by the hair and stops you, pulling out of your mouth and stepping away. He’s breathing more heavily than before and his cock is throbbing with a need to release. His hand circles his base, trapping himself and providing a bit of relief. 

Some of your spit keeps his dick connected to your mouth. It’s hot. Briefly, Jack tries to decide if he’d let you spit in his mouth, but it requires too much thought for the moment, so he tables it for later. 

“Give me your hand,” Jack says.

You comply and Jack curls your fingers around his shaft. You wait for him to tell you what to do– which Jack definitely likes.

“I want to come on your pretty tits,” Jack says, trying not to twitch and jerk his hips when you start to move your hand. “And I want you to make it happen.”

You grin up at him, dipping your head to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before you guide him towards your chest. Jack’s cockhead bumps your collarbone before you start to drag your hand in thorough strokes, pointing the tip towards the valley of your cleavage. You look up at him all the meanwhile, watching his face as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re providing to him. 

Jack touches your face with one hand. Your free hand is resting on the front side of his hip, just feeling him. He places his other hand over yours, gripping the appendage in a distorted version of holding your hand.

Warmth shoots through his body, your clenches and twists along his cock hurling him towards the powerful climax that he’s been anticipating since he started reading your little stories on the bus on the way to California.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good at that,” Jack tells you, praising you in the way that always brings a sweet blush onto your cheeks. 

You thank him quietly, bashfully, continuing your ministrations until the pleasure overcomes Jack and he moans, watching his cum splash over your skin. It’s the strokes of a masterpiece, but at the same time, Jack is marring the masterpiece that is your body with the white ropes that you’ve drawn from his cock. He’s privileged because he gets to ruin you.

After he comes, Jack brings you up to your feet and kisses you again. He can taste himself on your tongue, tangling with his as you kiss him back. Jack brings his hand between your legs, dipping into the fabric to find that you’re deliciously wet between your folds. 

He teases you with his fingers while he kisses you, letting time pass until you’re wiggling against him and making little noises into his mouth. Jack dips his finger into your hole, only going up to the first knuckle. It’s barely enough to satisfy you, but it allows Jack to belittle you a bit before giving you more, when you beg for it.

Surprisingly, you don’t beg for him to finger you more. You don’t ask him to take your bikini off. You keep kissing him and whining into his mouth, grinding your hips. After only a few more rolls of your hips, you pull away.

“Let me try something,” you whisper, kissing him once more before returning to your knees.

“‘Kay,” Jack agrees, watching you carefully. 

You kneel tall, pursing your lips and focusing on his cock, which is doing its best to fill up entirely for the second time. 

Jack’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when you push your breasts together so that Jack’s cock can rest between them. The pressure from your hands against your boobs, sandwiching Jack’s cock, drives him crazy.

The smug look on your face, knowing what you’re doing to him, makes Jack even crazier. It’s like when you’d recreate your little stories. You were in the know, but Jack was not. Now, you knew that you’d be tittyfucking your boyfriend, and you knew that he’s got a thing for your chest… oh, it’s a dream. Jack might never be able to look at anyone else sexually ever again. Holy shit.

It doesn’t take long for him to become fully hard again. He’s about seconds away from blowing a second load on your chest– an appealing idea, but evidently one that you won’t let happen. 

You pull back, drawing a complaint from Jack’s throat. You stand and push him back onto the bed, Jack pulling you with him. You land on top of his chest with a little ‘oof.’ You push yourself into a seated position, heavy on his lap. 

“Did’ya like it?” You tease, hands planted securely on Jack’s ribcage. You grind down against his naked cock. The soaked fabric of your bikini bottoms bunches up as you roll your hips, then shifts the other way when you rock back. The sensation is far too much for Jack in this state.

Jack puts his hands on your hips and halts your movements. You resist a little bit, ironically going against your words from earlier about not fighting him.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” Jack says. “I want to come in you, baby.”

“Okie,” you agree like a goof, which gives Jack a little reprieve. You laugh and pat his chest, kneeling up a bit so that you can take his cock in your hand. You shift the crotch of your bikini bottoms to the side and sink down on Jack’s member, enveloping him entirely.

Jack breathes out as you settle against him. He has to close his eyes and push all the air out of his lungs before he can look up at you again.

His cum has dried on your chest. Your hair is wild. Your fingernails are digging into his chest as you start to rise and fall. Your tits bounce, drawing Jack’s eyes. He can’t really decide where to look– your tits, your face, your pussy… which is swallowing his cock greedily and perfectly, the way only you can.

Your walls are gummy and hot. It’s impossible to escape the pleasure or stave off his second orgasm, especially not when you flex your abdomen and rotate your hips in a little figure-eight that has you inadvertently clenching down on him. You’re like a vice, the one with the crank that takes a tight grip and makes it almost clinically impossible to un-attach. 

Jack is probably babbling, although he’s more focused on the sweet little moans and breaths that escape from your mouth. You’re biting your bottom lip, so Jack reaches up to pull it from your teeth. He thinks again of what it would be like to have you spit into his mouth from this vantage point, but then you start to bounce again and he loses the idea into the ether of pleasure. His first two fingers find your tongue and you start to suck, more noises leaving your mouth and sending vibrations up his arm.

His insides start to feel warm and fuzzy, which is when Jack stutters out a brief warning that he’s going to come. He doesn’t know how close you are, but your fingers on one hand have started to flick against your clit in quick motions. Jack watches your fingers move, enraptured by the sight because they’re just so deft– and then he remembers that those fingers spurred him towards an orgasm before, which landed across your chest– and then a little bit of your saliva slides between his fingers and cools in the bedroom air– and Jack comes inside of you. It knocks all of the breath and all of the tension out of his body, leaving him completely blank and new like he’s floating in space without anything around.

The first thing he sees after whiting out from the orgasm is you, legs shaking, writhing so violently from the gratification of your own climax that his cock is displaced from its home in your cunt. His cum drips out of you and the rapid emptiness allows you to pull off Jack’s favorite trick– your orgasm manifests in a squirt that washes over Jack’s pelvis and leaves you grinding into the air for more. 

Jack pushes himself up to a half-seated position to catch you when you sag forward from sheer exhaustion, kissing you again and bringing you to a position where you can straddle his thigh and continue chasing the aftershocks of your climax. You’re mewling into his mouth desperately, hips working, and Jack wants to give you another but he just can’t. He’s entirely spent.

He plugs you with two fingers, filling you because he knows that’s what you need. You hump against his hand as you come down, your kisses becoming less wanton and needy as you exit the rush of emotion you’re experiencing.

Your kisses turn sweet and long, sensual but not intentional. You’re making out just to feel each other, just like how Jack has his fingers inside of you just so that you’re full. 

“That wasn’t exactly what I read,” Jack is able to joke after your rocking stops. 

“No?” You ask, voice thick, the way it is when you first wake up in the morning and you’re not sure what’s real and what’s a dream. Jack loves when your voice gets like that after he fucks you– it means he did a good job and you’re so satisfied that you’re sleepy. Your eyes are closed now and you wrap your arms around Jack’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“I was supposed to spit on your face before you made me come,” Jack says. 

You hum. “I think ours was better.”

“Maybe you should write it down,” Jack teases, which earns him a sharp tug to his hair. He laughs. “Okay, message received.”

You sit in silence for another few minutes. Jack draws shapes all over the expanse of your back– although his favorite is the attempted rose that he puts between your shoulderblades or the series of loopy hearts at the base of your spine. 

“I have another question,” Jack says.

“Hm?”

You really are sleepy. Jack might have to sit you on the counter in the ensuite bathroom and clean you up with a wet rag instead of washing your body of his cum in the shower, which is what he was fully planning to do. That being said, Jack asks his final (series) of question(s).

“That stuff wasn’t, like, actually published, right? People aren’t making money off of my name and life? I don’t have to sue anyone?  I feel like that would be a little embarrassing. I don’t want to go to court because of fanfiction.”

He makes you giggle. “No, baby. They’re not real books. Although, there are probably some real books whose love interests were inspired by you.”

Jack hums. “I’ll allow it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they don’t even compare to the real thing.” You kiss his shoulder and toy with his hair a little more before Jack decides to take you to the bathroom and clean you up.

You continue to share your sweet kisses, puckering your lips to ask for another every few minutes, and Jack is hopeless to deny you. Not after you did so well, anyway– letting him do exactly what he wanted, and even improving it by working him over with your boobs and squirting because of his cock. 

Jack takes you back to bed after you’re all clean, cuddling up behind you and spooning you. “Love you,” he murmurs in your ear before kissing your neck. 

“Love you,” you parrot back. “Can’t believe you’re making me find a fanfiction that’s better than that for your next goodbye.”

“I’ll do some research, too,” Jack offers. 

You scoff, shaking your head fondly and laughing at Jack one last time before falling asleep. “So fucking weird.”

notes: this has been in my inbox since MAY ELEVENTH. Cappy's patience cannot be overpraised. she sent me FIVE requests outlining this whole thing, complete with dialogue, most of which was completely thrown out the window when i got my own ideas and actually started writing. you all will likely never see the original requests, but they are so silly goofy looking back on it. i have them written down in my notes app, having done that before i embarked on this journey, and i will probably not delete them because it's a nice little memory. back to my roots.

like i told cappy: this fic was a canon event, a fixed point, in my writing journey. i hope you all SINCERELY enjoy it. i know i've said this before, but this could be my magnum opus <3 i think it is the best contender at the moment.

i hope you all enjoyed!

[kuronarnze]

helelelelello! Could I request a Charles oneshot where reader matches his personality so they go like OMG TWINS, take your time 🫶

— 😈 anon

a/n: OMGG SO SORRY FOR THE REAAAAALLY LATE RESPONSE, I saw this in my draft and I was like WAIT HOW DID I NOT POST THIS YET OMG.. AAA so sorry 😈 anon 💔 I also took some more time cause I edited it a bit today, but please enjoy reading !!

Charles Chevalier x Reader !

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Two Headaches, One Braincell”

In which... Loki hires you as an analyst assistant. Within five minutes he regrets it. Within one hour, Charles finds his twin. Unfortunately for everyone else, you're both the same brand of disaster.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

When Loki hired you, he had high hopes.

Impressive soccer IQ. Top-tier play analyzer. Fast on your feet, even faster in brainwork. Quietly recommended by Noel Noa himself.

You seemed perfect.

Keyword: seemed.

The moment you walked into the meeting room—late, chewing gum, and wearing sunglasses indoors—Loki immediately regretted everything.

"You're late," he muttered.

You blew a bubble. Pop. "Fashionably."

He blinked. "We're in a basement."

"Then I’m basement fabulous."

Loki’s headache began early that day.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The only reason he didn’t fire you was because—despite your personality—you were absurdly good.

Your predictions were eerily accurate. Your positioning logic was better than most pros. You dissected strategies like a scalpel-wielding maniac.

And worst of all?

You reminded him exactly of one person.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The disaster truly began when Charles Chevalier strutted in mid-training, spotted you leaning against the fence with your clipboard, and said with a smirk:

“Who’s the new decoration? You look too cool to be staff.”

You glanced at him. “You look too loud to be a footballer.”

He blinked. Then grinned. “Ohhh, I like you.”

“Tragic. I don’t return feelings that fast.”

Loki, from across the field, facepalmed so hard he nearly knocked himself out.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

That was day one.

By day five, Charles and you were inseparable.

Shared memes during film review.

Bet on who could annoy Loki faster.

Argued mid-practice about who had the better curl shot (you both attempted it immediately after like children).

You once distracted an entire drill by shouting, “IF CHARLES MISSES THIS, HE OWES ME MACARONS.”

Charles missed it on purpose.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“You two are identical,” Loki muttered one night, watching the two of you bicker while analyzing a match replay. “And that terrifies me.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, arm flung over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Well, coach, you hired them.”

“I know,” Loki groaned. “Worst mistake of my life.”

You grinned. “Admit it—you love us.”

“I love nothing.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

And the thing was...

Somewhere between all the chaos, the shouting, the mind games, and flirting masked as arguments—something changed.

Charles started walking you home after late analysis nights.

You started wearing his extra jacket “because it smelled expensive.”

He started glancing over mid-match to see if you were watching.

You always were.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

One night, after winning a big match, Charles jogged off the field and went straight to you.

Everyone expected his usual post-victory showboating. Instead, he smirked and leaned in close.

“So... want to go out sometime? I owe you macarons.”

You raised a brow. “Because you missed that shot on purpose?”

“Because I missed a lot of shots with you.”

Your heart stuttered.

The grin slipped into something a little more real.

You smacked his arm. “That was corny.”

“Still worked.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. You’re buying.”

“Deal.”

In the background, Loki groaned louder than the crowd.

“I should’ve fired both of you.”

and now Loki grew 20 times older

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

THANK YOU SM FOR REQUESTING <3 and tysm for reading, have a nice day 🫶💗

also here's the oneshot to the anons who have been missing a Charles work <33 I'll write more when I get better :)

[demie90s]

Perchance.

A Diana Taurasi fic where the reader is tormenting her using the song Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson maybe at practice or online then later Diana could show the reader how dirty she is. Can you make the reader either a rookie or someone with a tad bit of an age gap to Diana.

Love your work btw😌

Dirty Diana

Diana Taurasi x fem!rookie!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary:. At every practice, every press moment, every Live—you quote Dirty Diana just loud enough for her to hear.

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Diana, rookie!reader teasing and submitting, age gap (reader early 20s, Diana late 30s), possessiveness, mild choking, reader is so down bad it’s funny, Diana ruins her (lovingly).

Genre: Smut, Flirtation, Power Play, Age Gap, Tension, Enemies-to-Lust

I swear I didn’t mean to start a bit.

At first, it was just a little joke. A running thing I had going. I repost edits of my teammates all the time—sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s out of pocket, but it’s all love. All gas, no brakes. But Diana? Diana was different. Diana Taurasi made it delusional.

She wasn’t even my vet. Ain’t never assigned herself to me. Never offered to “take me under her wing” or none of that cute mentor stuff. But for some godforsaken reason, I attached myself to her like a demon in a conjuring movie. Wherever she went, I was five steps behind. Holding her Gatorade. Squeezing her knee mid-film. Sitting on the edge of her seat like mine wasn’t two inches away.

It’s not even intentional. I’ll be sitting next to her, locked into practice footage, and my hand’ll just… slide. Light touch on her thigh, maybe tracing something dumb like a spiral or a letter. No awareness. No shame. I’m watching the screen, not even clocking the fact that I’m damn near fondling the inner muscle of one of the coldest to ever do it. And the worst part?

She lets me.

She says nothing. Just glances once, then goes back to whatever she was doing. I smile when she holds eye contact too long—like a slut. But hey. That’s just how I am.

And then I started quoting Dirty Diana. Loud. Dramatic. Out of nowhere. I’d pop into the locker room like:

“She looked me deep in the eyes—”

Everyone: “No—NO. Again?”

Me, already spinning: “She touchin’ me so to start!”

The first time it happened, Diana looked up real slow like a cat clocking prey. Didn’t say nothing. Just watched me act a fool across the gym. I saw her smirk, though. Not a smile. A smirk—just the left side of her mouth. Barely there. But I saw it.

That same night, I posted a slo-mo of her stretching pre-game, MJ crooning in the background. Captioned

“Diana walked up to me / She said, ‘I’m all yours tonight’ 😵‍💫”

Another post: A candid of her mid-argument with a ref.

Caption:

“I have the stuff that you want / I am the thing that you need 😭😭”

I play it off like I do this with everybody—and I do. But not like this. Not this level of obsession. Not this frequency. With her, I be in the comments like I’m locked in a parasocial relationship.

“Y’all don’t get it. I seen her irl. 😭”

“I’m mentally employed under her. That’s my supervisor.”

“She told the ref to back up and I almost passed out.”

I tag her. Because why wouldn’t I? I’m already annoying, might as well go all the way. She never likes. Never comments. But she knows. I know she knows.

’Cause in person? She’s confusing as hell.

Diana will ignore me completely one day—walk straight past, no eye contact, like I��m a ghost in the hallway. Then the next, she’s cracking jokes, tossing her towel at me, stealing my charger like it’s hers. She’s serious 90% of the time. Locked in. Vet mode. But that other 10%..That’s what’s ruining me.

Like today. Practice was hell. Nobody could shoot. Everyone dragging. Coach yelling. We’re running suicides and I’m dead tired, panting, bent over, hands on knees. Diana walks by cool as hell, not even winded, and says:

“Get your ass up, MJ.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“You like singing ‘Dirty Diana’ so damn much, go ahead and run it back.”

She walks off. I’m stunned. No comeback. Just standing there smiling like she proposed.

Later, I sit next to her during cool down and I don’t even realize my hand’s rubbing her arm. Like, soft circles. Not trying to be slick. Just soothing myself, apparently. She don’t stop me. Just shifts a little so I’ve got more room. I swear she lowkey leans into it.

My mouth moves before I can stop it.

“She’s saying, ‘That’s okay… hey baby, do what you want…’”

Diana raises a brow without turning her head.

“…I’ll be your night lovin’ thing, I’ll be the freak you can taunt…”

She laughs. Quietly. Barely. But I catch it.

“…You’re sick,” she says.

“Baby, I’m talented.”

I post another story that night. Just a blurry pic of her walking into the locker room. Caption:

“She trapped me in her heart. Dirty Diana, nah 😩🧎🏽‍♀️”

I tag her. Again. Still nothing. Still addicted.

This not even flirting no more. This is torment. This is soul possession. This is a grown woman who could end my entire career entertaining me. Watching. Letting me linger. Touch. Tease. Lose my mind.

I swear I heard her humming Dirty Diana in the locker room today. But maybe that’s just the demons I summoned talking.

Either way I’m not scared. I’m not stopping.

The win was clean. Easy, even. Everybody played well, nobody got hurt, and for once, Coach wasn’t breathing down our necks. We loaded up the bus all smiles, loud music, popcorn being thrown, and just enough chaos to feel like a team that loves each other. Spirits were high.

I was bored. Bored like the kind of bored that makes you flight risk.

Everybody’s room was standard. Basic keycard, bland lighting, twin beds too stiff for rest. But not hers. She’s a vet. The vet. Meaning she had the Presidential Suite. Double doors, blackout curtains, two showers, a fridge full of things she didn’t buy, and silence.

Most importantly: space.

She didn’t invite me. Of course not. Diana never invites me anywhere. She just tolerates the fact that I show up anyway. But I wasn’t in the mood to sneak tonight. I wanted to be let in. Wanted to watch her roll her eyes and open the door anyway.

So I call her. It rings twice.

“…Why are you calling me?”

I smile. “Why not?”

There’s a pause, then the sound of her breath leaving her nose like she already regrets answering. “…It’s late. And I’m tired.”

“I’m bored.”

“You’re in a hotel. Go find something to do.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I need stimulation.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No—wait. Can I stay with you?”

Silence. Then: “No.” I grin, stretched out across my own boring-ass bed, phone resting on my cheek.

“You didn’t even let me plead my case.”

“There is no case,” she says flatly.

“I’m restless. My room sucks. And I just….wanna talk.” I pause. “You like talking.”

“I like peace.”

“And yet, I’m on your phone.”

Another long silence. I imagine her laying there in her expensive-ass bed, jaw tight, regretting every choice that led her to being on a roster with me.

“….Come Here.” she snaps. The line goes dead.

No sweet invitation. No “okay, fine, come cuddle.” It’s that low, fed-up tone. That ‘get your ass up here before I change my mind’ kind of tone. I throw on my hoodie like I’m suiting up for war and head to the elevator, smug as hell.

When I knock, she opens the door already mid-eye-roll. Arms crossed. Hair loose. Sports bra and joggers. No makeup. No braids. No effort.

Still fine as fuck. I smirk. “Missed me?” She steps back, says nothing.

The suite smells expensive. Clean linen, subtle cologne, faint lemon. Lights low. One huge king bed, made perfectly. A leather chair sits angled in the corner beside a full-length mirror and a table with half a glass of wine. There’s an untouched fruit tray on the dresser. Everything about it screams veteran luxury.

“I see you used your powers,” I say, stretching as I look around. “They got us in shoeboxes and you got a whole spa suite. Must be nice.”

She closes the door behind me with a sigh. “It’s what I deserve.”

I turn to her slowly. “What do I deserve?”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t flinch. Just walks past, brushing my shoulder on the way to the fridge like I’m just there. I follow her movement, eyes trailing her back. Long, lean, loose. She opens the fridge and grabs another mini wine bottle.

“You came all the way up here to annoy me?”

“I came up here because I was bored.”

“You are bored,” she mutters, cracking the seal. “Clearly.”

She doesn’t offer me any. Just walks to the leather chair and sits, crossing her legs like I’m not still standing in the middle of her space, trying to soak her up.

“So what now?” she says, leaning her cheek against her fist. “You gonna sing to me?”

I chuckle. “You know the lyrics better than I do at this point.”

“Unfortunately.”

I start wandering. Not sitting yet. Just trailing fingertips over the cool marble table. The edge of the mirror. My reflection flickers in the low light and I glance over my shoulder. She’s still watching.

I turn fully. “Why you got that chair set up like that? Facing the bed and the mirror?”

She raises a brow. “Why you asking questions you don’t want the answers to?”

I pause. Lips part slightly. The tension creeps in slow like fog.

“Maybe I do want the answer,” I say quietly.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re asking.” I swallow. The way her voice drops. It’s not loud. It’s not even mean. It’s just direct. L I step closer. Still not cocky. Still lighthearted. Still playing that thin line between teasing and testing.

“You’re not scary, you know.”

“I don’t have to be scary. I just have to be real.”

I smile. “I like real.”

She tilts her head slightly. “No. You like games. Drama. Noise. You like saying my name in the locker room like you understand what it means.”

My eyes narrow, grin lingering.

“Dirty Diana,” I murmur, almost like I’m tasting it.

She finishes her wine in one slow sip. Then uncrosses her legs and leans forward.

“You sure you’re bored… or just stupid?” I step closer to the bed, finally sitting on the edge. My knees touch the floor. My hands rest between them.

“Maybe both.” She leans back again, slow and deliberate, watching the way I settle into her space.

The mirror reflects the shape of me. Her. The room. I see her shift in the chair, see her eyes trailing down my legs. No words. No move. Just patience. The kind that don’t come with warnings. The kind that lets you cook in your own decision.

I glance toward the bed. “I’m not tryna sleep, by the way.”

“Oh,” she hums, rising from the chair. “I know.”

No smiles. No flirting. No jokes. Just heat. Weight. Silence. And the door clicks shut behind me.

I’ve been messing with Diana for damn near a year.

Not messing messing. Not like that. Emotionally? I’ve been tormenting her with dramatic Michael Jackson lyrics, stalking her around the practice facility, and using every excuse to touch her like I don’t know what boundaries are. And she’s let me.

Teased me back sometimes. But never crossed that line.

I’m walking around her suite. Fingertips on her dresser, nose in her candle collection, peeking into the closet just to annoy her.

She hasn’t said much, just sits there in that leather chair with one leg crossed over the other, watching me like she’s the principal and I’m the reason she drank today.

“You know you like the attention,” I call over my shoulder, tugging on the edge of her bathrobe hanging off a hook. “Why else you upgrade your room like this? Wanted me to see the view?” No answer. I glance over.

She’s staring. Still. I grin, lean against the glass. “You gone say something or just undress me with your—”

“Sit.”

I blink. “Huh?”

Her voice sharpens. “Sit. Down.”

That tone. Oh, I sit. Not on the bed like I expected. But on the low bench at the foot of it. Still warm from my wandering.

Still a little smug. But I’m listening. I’d always listen to her. Even if my mouth stay smart, even if I act like I’m in control—I like following her lead.

She stands slowly. Stalks over. Quiet. Calm.

I’m still in a hoodie and shorts. Comfortable. Loose. But I feel exposed as hell the moment she gets in front of me. Not touching. Just towering. Her gaze pins me down like weight. My stomach flips.

“You wanna see dirty Diana?” she asks, low and slow, like a threat and a promise all in one.

I shift. “Girl don’t—” But it’s too late.

She leans down and her thumb traces my bottom lip—soft, then firm, dragging over the center. My lips part automatically. Breath caught. Knees tight. The air between us gets hot, heavy, wet with anticipation.

“You think you can handle me?” she murmurs. My thighs clench.

Deadass—I could’ve cum from that alone. Her voice. The nerve of her. The control. I stare at her with parted lips and dazed eyes, so clearly gone, and she smirks like she knows.

She does know. I shift again, about to speak, about to say something sarcastic—but she’s already walking back to her chair. Cool. Collected. She sits.

“Take your pants off.”

My heart skips. “What?”

“Take them off. And touch yourself.” I don’t move.

“If we’re doing this,” she says, voice cool and clear, “you’re gonna do it my way.”

Her eyes stay locked on mine. I look down for a second. My hoodie is bunched at my thighs. My fingers tremble when I hook into the waistband. She raises a brow. I breathe deep and slide them down, slow. It feels too slow, but maybe that’s the point.

Now I’m bare, thighs spread, still seated at the foot of her bed, her eyes drinking me in like she’s waited for this. Like she knew I’d fold eventually.

My fingers trail down softly. Just the outer lips at first. Teasing. Slow.

But she doesn’t let me settle into it. Doesn’t give me a chance to get comfortable. Not when I start to look away, flustered, trying to calm the heat flooding me.

“Don’t look away,” she says sharply. “You wanted this, right?”

My eyes shoot back up. It’s hard to keep them there. My legs are shaking, mouth parted, breath catching on every inhale. My fingers dip lower. Find that soft, sensitive spot and circle it slowly. My hips twitch. But it’s the eye contact that breaks me.

It’s her face.

It’s the way she watches me, lips slightly parted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair, that dark gaze fixed like she’s inside me already.

I moan—soft, high, breathy. My head tips back for a second but I catch myself. Glance up. That’s when she stands.

She walks over. No rush. No sound. She crouches in front of me, between my knees. Lifts my chin with one hand. Firm grip. Steady.

“Eyes on me,” she says. “You keep ‘em open.”

Her thumb brushes the corner of my mouth again, and I gasp. My fingers are still working but it’s not even that anymore. It’s her. It’s the power she has over me. The way she can command my body without touching anything but my face.

And when our eyes lock. I fall apart.

My other hand reaches up, clutching her wrist like a lifeline. My back arches. I try to keep breathing but every moan is a sob now. Not loud—just desperate. Messy. Deep from the gut.

“Fuck,” I whisper, voice barely there.

She leans in, nose brushing mine. “That’s it.”

My eyes flutter again but she holds my face tighter. “Look at me.”

And I do. I look. I fall. And I cum. It’s not violent. It’s not fast. It’s sensual. Warm and wet and slow, like being swallowed whole by a wave I never saw coming. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.

My fingers slow. My thighs twitch. My hand is shaking against her wrist and she finally lets my chin go. But I don’t move.

I just breathe. Chest rising and falling. Hoodie damp with sweat. Face hot. Body trembling.

She watches me the whole time. Silent. Smirking. Like Dirty Diana finally showed her teeth.

I should’ve paid attention.

Not to the way she said “come up,” not even to the cuffs she somehow already had on hand like this was a setup—but to her silence. The way she didn’t smirk when she snapped the second cuff behind my back. The way she didn’t warn me.

Real killers don’t announce themselves.

She just watched me with this calm, focused look, like she wasn’t undressing me—just deciding which part she wanted first.

I was still recovering from the orgasm she dragged out of me with a single command and her voice, wrists locked behind me now, legs open like I forgot how to close them. I’m dazed. Hot. Breathing heavy. I’m stupid enough to think we’re done.

She hasn’t even started.

She drops back between my legs without ceremony—like she lives there, like it’s hers. Her hands smooth over my thighs again, a little slower this time. Gentle, almost. Like she’s checking to see if I’ve caught on yet.

I haven’t. Then she slaps me.

Not hard. Not the way people expect when they hear the word—but sharp enough to sting, timed perfectly with her palm landing flat between my thighs. I jerk. Suck in air.

“Oh, you like that,” she mutters, almost to herself. “Of course you do.”

She does it again, just to prove a point. The wet sound of her palm meeting me is loud in the room, louder than my choked little moan, louder than my pride slipping out the cracks of my mouth.

“You get off on this, huh?” Her voice is lower now. “Acting like a brat all season. Quoting songs. Touchin’ me without permission. You wanted me to break you.”

I try to deny it—try to say something—but my words die in my throat. Because when she spits on it—again—and drags her fingers slow through it, I nearly fall forward.

She clicks her tongue. “Keep those legs open.”

I nod before I can think. “Y-yeah.”

“Yeah?” she repeats, fingers sliding up to circle my clit with a light, taunting pressure. “Yeah what?”

I freeze. Fuck. “…Yes ma’am.”

Her pause is immediate. Her hand stops moving, but her eyes..They burn. She tilts her head just slightly, lips parted, like she’s never been more entertained in her life.

“What’d you just call me?”

I swallow, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” she interrupts. “You meant it.”

She leans in. Mouth brushing over my inner thigh, slow and warm and close enough to feel but not enough to satisfy. Her breath is so hot it makes me twitch.

“You ever been ruined, baby?” she asks softly. “Not fucked. Ruined.” I can’t even answer.

She doesn’t wait.

Her tongue replaces her fingers like they never existed—slick and slow, dragging the wetness she stirred back up with steady pressure that makes my head spin. And just as I start to fall into it, her fingers slide in—deep, slow, patient.

I cry out. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet, raw sound that slips out of me before I can catch it.

“Oh, that’s cute,” she says against me, lips brushing my clit. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Her fingers move in this rhythm that feels learned. Not fast. Not brutal. But heavy. Intentional. Like she’s been waiting a whole year to give me exactly what I need—and make me beg for what I can’t take.

She sucks my clit again, a little harder this time, and her fingers curl just right. My back arches. My knees try to close, and she slaps the side of my thigh again—just a tap.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. I whimper.

“What’s the matter?” she murmurs, fingers dragging out slow just to push back in deeper. “Cat got your tongue? Where’s all that mouth now?”

“I—I can’t—”

She chuckles. “Oh, you will. I want you sayin’ everything. Loud.”

She slows again. Just enough to make me ache. Her mouth barely there. Her fingers still knuckle-deep.

“Say what you called me again,” she says, tongue flicking lightly. “I dare you.”

I hesitate. I’m shaking. Panting. I look down at her and instantly regret it—she looks too good like this. Jaw locked. Cheeks flushed. In full control. Like she owns me.

“…Yes ma’am,” I breathe again. Soft. Fragile. And she grins.

“Good girl.” It’s over. No, it’s on.

She drags her mouth over me again with purpose, not mercy. Fingers fucking up into me with new pace, more depth. Her tongue tight and consistent, sucking and circling until I’m losing track of myself. Of time. Of how I ended up here.

She’s not saying anything now. Doesn’t need to. She just works me. Turns me inside out. I hold onto the only thing I can—her wrist.

Because I’m dripping. Legs trembling. Head back, teeth clenched. Every inch of me feels open and alive and owned.

This was never a game to her. Not really.

It looked like one because I was the one playing loud—joking in the locker room, quoting lyrics like I wrote ’em, touching her arms, her thighs, posting her on my story like she was just another crush.

She was silent. Measured. Plotting.

I fell for it. Cocky, flirty, too dazed off a soft orgasm to realize the cuffs weren’t a reaction—they were premeditated. She came prepared. Not just with the chain around my wrists or the quiet, slow-deep fingers making me forget how to breathe. No.

She had everything. Because Coach tells her things first.

Like hotel plans. Room arrangements. Which floor the rookies are on. And how close our doors are.

She didn’t just bring wine and sweats and a charger—she brought a whole strap. Packed it like a toothbrush. Because she knew.

Knew I’d find my way to her. Knew I’d test her limits. Knew eventually I’d sit right where she wanted, legs open, wrists bound, breath shaky, wet enough to slide into without warning.

So when she stands again, eyes slow-dragging over me like I’m a mess she enjoys cleaning up, I know. This isn’t heat-of-the-moment. This was step six in a playbook I never got to read.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks to her travel bag like she’s grabbing a hoodie. Unzips it casual. Quiet. Then I see it.

Black harness. Clean, sleek, no-nonsense. She doesn’t turn to look at me when she straps it on. Just adjusts it like she’s done it a thousand times and always knew this one would be for me.

I shift. Legs still open. Wrists aching a little behind my back, but I’m not tapping out. Not yet. She comes back slow, voice cool.

“You done?”

I blink, breath still shaky. “What?”

She tilts her head. “All that mouth you got. You done now?”

I nod before I realize I’m nodding.

She climbs onto the bed like a storm. Stalks over me, pushing me flat, flipping me quick so my cuffed wrists are pressed into the sheets and her hand is fisting the back of my hoodie to keep me still.

“You wanna be fucked like a problem?” she says low, lips by my ear. “Then don’t run.”

I moan on instinct. She hasn’t even touched me again yet.

“This what you wanted, huh? Acting up all season. Thinking I wasn’t watching you.” I whimper, thighs spread.

“No warm-up,” she murmurs, pushing her hips forward against me with one slow grind. “You get what I give you, baby.”

The first thrust makes me gasp. Loud. My mouth opens but nothing comes out except breath. I wasn’t ready. She knew that. That’s why she did it.

“Take it,” she says. I do. Because I have no choice.

Her hand’s on my neck now, pinning me to the bed while her hips roll with steady, unrelenting force. She’s not trying to be sweet. Not trying to make it pretty. This is work. This is ownership.

I try to catch my breath, try to say something—anything—but her mouth is already there. She kisses me hard, sloppy, open-mouthed. Tongue in my throat. Swallowing the sounds before they ever make it out.

“You don’t need to say anything,” she breathes, biting my bottom lip. “Ain’t nothing you got to say that matters right now.”

I moan against her mouth. “D-Diana—fuck—”

She thrusts harder. Deeper. One of her hands slides down, finding my clit like it lives there. Rubbing it in rough circles while she fucks into me like it’s personal.

“Don’t look away now,” she hisses when my head starts to turn.

I can’t help it. My eyes roll. My hips push back. I’m whining now—soft, helpless.

“Yeah,” she growls. “Cry. Pass out. Scream if you want. I’ll stop if you tap…but you not gone do that.” She’s right.

My body’s shaking. My legs won’t stay still. She bites my shoulder as she keeps going, never slowing, like this was her job and I’m just her project.

I breathe her name again—more like a prayer than a plea. I feel her grin against my neck.

“Don’t ever play with my name again,” she whispers.

Then slaps my ass, hips hitting harder.

I almost do. Almost tap. But I don’t. I just take it. Exactly like she knew I would.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[barkingbarghest]

Another excellent Clair Obscur interview with Guillaume Broche by YouTube channel Behind The Voice's Abhi Jha!

Spoilers for the entire game.

A few highlights, with full notes under the cut:

Why the Gestral Beaches? "I love stupid minigames. Stupid, clunky minigames are the life and soul of every JRPG. It's a love/hate relationship you have with them." Frustration is an emotion like any other that Guillaume wants to evoke in players. Good art should inspire strong emotions, even if that emotion is frustration. "And in our defense, we didn't hide our strongest weapon behind our minigames."

Clea was originally going to be more directly involved with everyone in the Canvas, but that was cut very early because it was hard to fit her in without making it feel like filler.

Guillaume's favorite storytelling method is "Say as little as possible, do as much as you can through acting and the eyes."

Sophie and Gustave talking over each other was written into the script to emphasize their awkwardness with each other, but there was a lot of improved overlapping dialogue. Guillaume told the actors in the booth "If you want to talk over someone, do it. Just do what feels natural."

Renoir flying around was an animation that Guillaume had and didn't know what to do with. After he put that move in and play-tested it himself, it started to get annoying and from there came the idea of the cinematic finish where Maelle interrupts Renoir while he's mid-air. It's what Guillaume would have wanted to see if he was a player.

Earlier iterations, We Lost, and changes in the script

Expedition 33 originated as a completely different story called We Lost. "I still like the story very much, I think it was cool. But it was also impossible to explain. Like it was extremely complex for no reason, as one does in JRPGs." It had the same ideas of grief, loss, and 'those who come after', but changed quite a bit in its form once becoming E33.

The studio wanted a short, sharp hook for the new concept. 1-2 sentences that could encapsulate where the story starts and get people invested. Guillaume came up with the Monolith, the number counting down, and the giant image of the Paintress after being inspired by a piece of art he can't find any longer.

Clea was originally going to be more directly involved with everyone in the Canvas, but that was cut very early because it was hard to fit her in without making it feel like filler.

Putting together that prologue

"It works. It makes people cry."—The Sandfall team were gratified that it hit players emotionally; they were so used to seeing it that they stopped feeling the emotional response after working on it for so long from a technical standpoint. Seeing players experience it for the first time let the devs re-experience the emotions.

Originally the game opened on the roof with Gustave and Maelle, then immediately cut to Gustave with Sophie, omitting the run across the roofs and the tutorial duel with Maelle.

The various NPCs around the city were a late addition. Sandfall knew early what they wanted to do, but didn't put together how to do it until relatively late.

The petals in Lumière are what's left of the people who have already Gommaged. The heavy use of particle effects was a bit of a meme in the studio because Guillaume would be guilty of over-using such effects (e.g. big glowing fireflies everywhere).

Cinematography, writing, and storytelling with minimal dialogue

The iconic menace of Renoir's cane sound effect came from one of the cinematic artists who thought it would be cool. "Eh sounds cool." "It's not cool, it's fucking awesome. Let's do that but more!" [Editor: Guillaume mentions Nicholas Lopez(?) by name, who isn't found on Sandfall's list of employees and could be one of the animators who were outsourced and worked part-time on the game.]

Aspect ratio change on Maelle's nightmares: Guillaume Broche is a huge fan of "forced re-format". It creates a very big sensation of something is weird. He likes the square aspect ratio and would love to make a game completely in that format, but suspects he'd get a lot of pushback. Mentions Robert Edgar did it well in Nosferatu.

It's rare for video games to use communication methods besides dialogue, so it felt risky for both epilogues and, to a certain extent, the Gommage scene in the prologue, to not have dialogue. Guillaume is glad it worked; he likes things with less dialogue because it's "harder but more gratifying" to try to communicate all the emotions without leaning on dialogue.

Good storytelling is really hard, doubly so when you're trying to make something that is both good to play and something that's good storytelling. Guillaume credits recent technological advancements: the kinds of subtle non-verbal communications that they used (facial expressions, precise lighting, body language) were very hard to pull off until very recently. Guillaume's favorite storytelling method is "Say as little as possible, do as much as you can through acting and the eyes."

Overlapping dialogue is an easy way to make dialogue feel natural. Sophie and Gustave talking over each other was written into the script to emphasize their awkwardness with each other, but there was a lot of improv. Guillaume told the actors in the booth "If you want to talk over someone, do it. Just do what feels natural." It didn't always work, but it was worth trying. For example, when Gustave cuts off Lune and finishes her sentence in the "fuck the mission" scene, that was an improv suggested by Maxence and Estelle, and everyone liked it immediately. ("We always said the future of Lumière is more important than any–" "Than any individual life, yes.")

Building cool bosses

The cinematic finish of the Dualliste fight had a huge ROI since it was made very quickly but players really liked it: Guillaume made all the camerawork and used animations they already had to put it together in a couple hours. Léo Paris (VFX Artist) spent a couple hours doing his thing, reusing effects he had made. The sound guys spent a couple hours doing their thing, again reusing stuff. And now it's a really popular cutscene. (Bonus: Guillaume loves Dualliste because it's satisfying to parry the long combos.)

The team originally wanted 4 axons, but quickly realized that wasn't realistic. They knew, working with Nicholas Maxson-Francombe (Art Director) they wanted some form of giant bosses before they had the story that explained the Axons, but once they had the lore it was easy to piece them together.

Guillaume requested a list of animations he wanted for the final Renoir boss fight, then took on the work of putting them together and making it. Renoir summoning the axons and the canvas were both from Guillaume just messing around and trying to find something cool.

Renoir flying around was an animation that Guillaume had and didn't know what to do with. After he put that move in and play-tested it himself, it started to get annoying and from there came the idea of the cinematic finish where Maelle interrupts Renoir while he's mid-air. It's what Guillaume would have wanted to see if he was a player. [Editor: Monoco makes himself known in the studio, which is where Guillaume is calling from. Arf arf bark arf.]

Simon, with a different backstory, was going to be the final boss of We Lost. They knew they wanted a really hard final boss, and they liked the idea of him being an Expeditioner since it would be a nice bookend with the game starting with the Expedition. From there, they wrote the story with Simon and Clea.

Technicalities of video game construction

The team expanded very quickly once Sandfall got publisher money, and there was a period of struggle where Guillaume felt like he failed the team a bit. There was a lot going on, and people were not organized, so things got muddied or lost. They had to reorganize and Guillaume had to learn how to be a better director keeping people all working in the same direction instead of being all over the place.

Why the Gestral Beaches? "I love stupid minigames. Stupid, clunky minigames are the life and soul of every JRPG. It's a love/hate relationship you have with them." Frustration is an emotion like any other that Guillaume wants to evoke in players. Good art should inspire strong emotions, even if that emotion is frustration. "and in our defense, we didn't hide our strongest weapon behind our minigames."

Nicholas Maxson-Francombe is to blame for the Only Up tower climb: he slammed that out during a free afternoon, and it was an instant favorite with the other devs.

Things that were good in theory but failed when executed

Final dialogue between Verso and Maelle before the final fight. Guillaume made a dialogue he thought was really cool, where they're arguing and not listening to each other. It was very ambitious and, after the mocap session Guillaume realized it was bad and re-wrote it.

In the scene immediately after beating Verso as Maelle, they had written it twice with the actors learning the new version… but when they recorded it, they didn't like the changes they'd made (the scene lacked emotion) so they had to ask the mocap actors (shout out to Maxence and Charlotte) to try to learn the old lines really quick (about half an hour) and that went much better.

The part of the ending, after you make the choice but before the Epilogue, Guillaume spent 6 hours working on it and then his computer crashed and he lost all the work. They didn't use storyboards, it was all just vibes as he was working, so he had to rebuild it from scratch the next day.

The Gustave Zone

Gustave's death dates back to the 'We Lost' era before they pivoted to the story and setting that would become E33. It started as a joke, Jennifer Svedberg-Yen pitched "what if we killed the main character" in brainstorming. She was laughing, but Guillaume was like "… yeah let's do that".

It's important to the theme of the game for the player to feel the extreme sense of loss. "We cheated a little bit" by letting Verso inherit everything Gustave had, rather than forcing the player to lose all the character progress. Knowing he would die, the team had to write Gustave intending for the player to get attached to him so that the correct emotion would be felt when he died.

Noah was almost the final name for Gustave, but then they found out it's the name of the main character of Xenoblade Chronicles 3, went "oops", and changed it. Gustave's stating weapon name was kept as an homage. Guillaume prefers Gustave now, and is glad they changed it.

Can't escape talking about the endings

Both endings were written at the same time, and they knew they wanted neither to be "good" or "bad". Guillaume likes sad stories so he wanted to make them sad. People can project what they want onto the endings, and that's important. Give the players an impossible choice, offer them the possibility to affect the story.

Other

Why does Lune float instead of run? Just felt natural. We always wanted her to fly/float a bit. "If you don't want to hear the footstep effects, just play as Lune."

[svt-sena]

( 分解 ) 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐀 ✕ 𝐇𝐈𝐏-𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓

་ ﹟ ، Sena’s relationships with the HIP-HOP UNIT

౨ৎ﹒ノ synopsis: Sena’s relationship and dynamics with the Hip Hop Team of SEVENTEEN.

☁︎ leader. lover. besties. brothers. the ones who shaped her.

✧ Scoups. Mingyu. Wonwoo. Vernon. ✧

“They’re loud, they’re protective, they’re annoying — but they’re mine.” – Sena, in a VLive, smiling at the camera

✶ 𝐇𝐈𝐏-𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓 𝐗 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐀 — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐄 ✶

✧ She balances them. The chaos and the calm.

✧ She’s the only one who can get Seungcheol to rest, Wonwoo to laugh, Mingyu to shut up, and Vernon to talk.

✧ They treat her like she belongs—because she does.

✧ Four boys. One girl. No drama. All heart.

✧ S.Coups ✧

“He fell first & he fell even harder.”

౨ৎ﹒ノ Trope: Slow-burn. Leader x Muse. Lovers-to-lifelines.

౨ৎ﹒ノ Dynamic: He was the first to welcome her into Pledis. Protective. Quietly supportive. Always made sure she was okay without making it obvious.

౨ৎ﹒ノ Over time, she fell hard. He stayed silent. Until one year before confessing, when he admitted to Jeonghan:

౨ৎ﹒ノ Closeness: 10/10

౨ৎ﹒ノ Popularity: 10/10

౨ৎ﹒ノ Their song: at my worst — pink sweats

[Scene: Pledis Practice Room, 2012]

Sena sits cross-legged, drenched in sweat, hands trembling from the third round of choreography drills. The room is too quiet. She thinks she’s failed.

A water bottle lands next to her.

“Drink,” Seungcheol says, not unkindly. “And take a breath. You’re doing good.”

That’s how it started.

౨ৎ﹒ノ Ship Names:

→ CheolRin (most common)

→ SenaCheol

→ S.C. × Sena (fans love stylizing it this way)

౨ৎ﹒ノ SC♡NA

౨ৎ﹒ノChaeCheol (채철) – From Chaerin + Seungcheol

From the moment she walked through Pledis’s doors, Seungcheol made sure she was taken care of. Water bottles. Words of encouragement. A steady hand during shaky rehearsals.

She admired him from afar — the kind of admiration that turns into something deeper over time. But he? He was already gone. In silence. In loyalty. In love.

He hid it for years. Told no one. Until one day, he whispered to Jeonghan, “I’ve been in love with her longer than I should’ve. Watching her fall for everyone but me was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I’ll risk the friendship. I just want a chance.”

And when Sena heard it — she didn’t even need time.

Because if love had a sound, it was his voice in the studio telling her to drink water.

If it had a touch, it was his hand steadying her knees.

If it had a face, it was him — the one she never stopped choosing.

🖇 Favorite moment:

– The time Seungcheol fixed her mic mid-performance with the smoothest handoff in stage history.

– She didn’t flinch. Because she knew he’d be there.

✧ Wonwoo ✧

“He never needed to say much. He just showed up.”

୨୧.ノ Trope: Stoic x Sunshine. Silent protector. Game buddies. Unspoken bond.

୨୧.ノ Dynamic: They weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. Wonwoo was the one who noticed when she slipped out of vocal practice early.

The one who saved her a seat at the back of the van.

The one who passed her a controller and didn’t ask questions.

They play in silence for hours — sometimes side by side, sometimes online, always in sync.

Sena trash-talks. Wonwoo pretends not to care — until he absolutely does.

She calls him a “laggy boomer.”

He responds by beating her with one move and casually saying, “Try harder.”

They argue over game strategies like it’s a war.

They accuse each other of cheating (neither of them ever actually does).

It’s chaos in the living room — controllers thrown on the couch, snacks spilled, voices raised.

But she always ends up laughing.

And he always ends up letting her win the next round.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you keep logging on.”

Over time, the games became their love language.

Late-night co-op sessions.

Silent comfort after hard schedules.

He didn’t say much. But she knew what he meant.

They weren’t soft in the kitchen either.

One birthday, they tried to bake cookies for Dino.

They confused sugar for salt.

The oven smoked. The fire alarm screamed.

Fans still bring it up on lives.

“You told me it was preheated!”

“I thought it was!”

“It was off, Wonwoo.”

“We don’t cook. We survive.” — Sena

୨୧.ノ Closeness: 9/10

୨୧.ノ Popularity: 8.5/10

୨୧.ノ Their song: illicit affairs — Taylor Swift

[Scene: Dorm Rooftop, 2016]

She was crying. Quietly.

Not loud. Not messy.

Just the kind of exhausted tears that fall after six hours of dance drills and zero progress.

He didn’t ask questions. Just sat beside her.

Handed over a peach soda.

“You like this, right?”

She nodded.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Good,” she sniffled. “Because I can’t.”

✦ Fun Facts ✦

She started playing games because she realized that was how they spent quality time together.

They are both banned from the SEVENTEEN dorm kitchen after nearly burning it down.

Fans have dubbed them the quiet chaos duo — “low volume, high intensity.”

When asked who her best gaming partner is, she replied:

“He plays like he lives. Quiet, smart, ruthless.”

He smiled the first time she beat him in a game.

But he demanded a rematch immediately.

౨ৎ﹒ノ Ship Names:

→ WoonRin

→ Chaewoo (채우)

→ SenaWoo

→ W♡NA

🖇 Favorite Moment:

– When she admitted she hated gaming at first but kept playing because, “It was the only way he’d talk for more than three minutes at a time.”

and Wonwoo just blinked and said, “She’s not wrong.”

✧ Mingyu ✧

“They fight like siblings. Laugh like fools. Ride for each other like it’s second nature.” aka: “Why are they always fighting?” couple

𖤐.ノ Trope: Chaotic besties. Golden retriever x sarcastic realist. ’97z soul twins.

𖤐.ノ Dynamic: Both born in 1997, they clicked instantly. He’s loud, playful, and always hungry. She’s calm, witty, and brutally honest. They fight like siblings, but always look out for each other behind the scenes. Their friendship is filled with food fails, inside jokes, and unspoken loyalty.

𖤐.ノ Over time: Their friendship went beyond fun. In 2022, when Sena quietly began suffering from anxiety attacks, it was Mingyu who noticed the signs. He didn’t push. He just sat beside her, let her cry without judgment, brought her chamomile tea, and reminded her to breathe. No cameras. No drama. Just him, being there.

𖤐.ノ Closeness: 10/10

𖤐.ノ Popularity: 10/10

𖤐.ノ Their song: “Friends” — BTS (Jimin & V)

✦ Kitchen Chronicles:

Sena can’t cook. Mingyu can.

So he decided to teach her — a mistake.

Sena stands frozen, staring at the pan. Smoke. A weird smell.

“Did you put sugar in the kimchi stew?” Mingyu blinks.

“I thought it was salt!” she yells.

Mingyu sighs, takes the spoon, and tastes it. “…This is a hate crime.”

🖇 Favorite Moment:

When she had a panic attack before a live stage, it was Mingyu who pulled her aside, helped her sit down, and quietly whispered, “You’re not alone. You never have to go through anything alone.” She went on stage ten minutes later and gave one of her best performances.

౨ৎ﹒ノ Ship Names:

→ MinRin (민린)

→ GyuChaer (규채르)

→ 97Line Duo ✧ (with The8 & DK — born in 1997!)

→ GyuRin

→ SenaGyu

→ Gyuna (규나)

✧ Vernon ✧

“You made Korea feel like home.”

𖤐.ノ Trope: Bilingual besties. Outsiders-to-anchors. Korean-American comfort zone.

𖤐.ノDynamic: Both born in the U.S. — Sena in Colorado, Vernon in New York. When she transferred to Pledis in 2012, Vernon, just a year younger, stepped in naturally. She was half-Korean but still struggled with the language. He helped without ever making her feel embarrassed. English when she needed comfort, Korean when she needed growth. No questions. No judgment. Just understanding.

𖤐.ノOver time: they became each other’s default. Conversations flipped languages without notice. They swapped playlists, rolled their eyes at awkward translations, and laughed at inside jokes no one else understood. She helped him remember his American roots; he helped her feel less lost in Korea.

𖤐.ノ Maknae Night Lore: Vernon was one of the first she told about her feelings for Seungcheol. It was during their monthly “Maknae Night” with Seungkwan and Dino—a tradition from their trainee days where they’d gather in someone’s dorm room, eat junk food, and rant about everything. That night, she sat curled on the floor in oversized sweats, eyes flicking between the three.

𖤐.ノCloseness: 9.5/10

𖤐.ノPopularity: 9.9/10

Especially after the infamous English V Live with Joshua that went completely off the rails. Fans still quote it. Switching between Korean and English mid-sentence. Vernon mimicking her British accent.

Sena: “Bro, stop.”

Vernon: “Wot? I’m just bein’ supportive, innit?”

Joshua: “I feel like I’m babysitting two toddlers.”

𖤐.ノTheir song: Home — SEVENTEEN

[Scene: Pledis Practice Room, 2013]

Sena stares at the lyrics sheet, frustrated. “Why does this word have five meanings?”

Vernon doesn’t even look up. “Because Korean’s an emotional minefield.”

She snorts.

He sets his phone down. “Want me to go over it with you?”

“Would you?”

“I got you.”

𖤐.ノ Ship Names:

→ Senon

→ Hansena

→ VER♡NA

→ VerChaer

→ NY2CO

→ ChaHansol (used mostly in memes)

→ Bilingual Duo (most used in interviews)

𖦹.ノ Extra Lore:

• They’re the unofficial English translators for SEVENTEEN, especially during international interviews.

• He calls her “British drama queen” whenever she gets extra. She mocks his New York accent. Fans eat it up.

• Their group chat with Joshua is called “the American line 🛸”

• She’s also part of the Chinese line with Jun and The8, which makes her Seventeen’s most chaotic bilingual connector.

[sanuue]

Bully OC Intro: Sanu Cedillo Ramirez💪✨😏

Template by @jimothy-hopkins!!!

Its been a long time coming for me to post an ACTUAL introduction to my bully ocs,,, and when I mean long I mean at LEASTTT 2 years 💀💀 this took me way too long and I scrapped the outfits a million times before giving up and just going chibi LMAOOO so SORRY if this is mid at best-

Lessss info dump >:J

Personal

- Typical big prep ego, even bigger wallet. Cares about the way he looks, tries his best to come off as smooth and charismatic ✨

- LOVES to brag about how strong he is, and how he owes it all to his mother for supporting him and forcing him into sports

- Fully homosexual inside and out, his laid-backness about it making it nearly impossible for others to bully him for it (trust, they definitely tried)

- Due to his mother, he loves flowers and floral decor. This can be seen hinted all around his room through floral prints and designs scattered on clothes, stickers on furniture, and posters🌸🌹

- Despite being rich and always boasting about it, he’s very generous. He’ll buy food and clothes for his friends, often lending others money when they seemingly need it. It pisses him off when people try to take advantage of him because of it, HOWEVER he is not opposed to casual bribery on his part

- Smokes, typically when stressed after arguments or fights

- His eyebags are from many sleepless nights of him studying and doing homework WAY too late. There have been moments where he’s considered paying someone to do it all for him but he takes too much pride in having done it all himself

Cliques

- He’s rarely on good terms with the other preps, Gord being the exception because of their interest in “common folk”. Since Sanu wasn’t born into an already wealthy family, he’s often looked down upon and seen as poor, dirty, and or unsophisticated by the others

- Sanu can be seen hanging out with the Greasers and Townies when outside the school, however, has a particular dislike towards Lola and Johnny. He hates hearing about their relationship issues and prefers to chill with Vance (queer bonds💪)

- He’s great friends with Edgar and Duncan, bonding over similar backgrounds, culture, and hobbies. Sanu even had a crush on Duncan at some point early on in their friendship, but nothing ever came of it

- Sanu finds himself hanging out with the Nerds more than any other clique. His love for comic books, anime and video games led him there, and now he sticks around to be with his niece, Leslie, and Cornelius after developing a strong romantic attraction towards him

Family

- Sanu is a HUGE momma’s boy and that's entirely because his mother spoiled him plenty. Having a father that left them behind when Sanu was young, his mom single-handedly raised Sanu while pursuing a career in law, later becoming an IP attorney

- Sanu will often mention how great his mother is when talking about his own successes. He will start physical fights with others that mock his mom in any way, shape, or form

- He treats Leslie like his own little sister. He tends to pick at and annoy her affectionately, quickly getting aggressive when others do the same

Aladdin from,,,,,, Aladdin 😩 is his VC 😏🔥

I’ll try to get the others done soon too,,,, but GOD this one took me so long that there's not great hope for the others LMAOOO

Anyways, Sanu Cedillo Ramirez everyone 😔💔💔

[alberichfanpage]

FROMSOFT WITCH HATS

The most important part of any magic build is the drip. I thought it would be fun to look at all the witch hats available to us across the different souls games and discuss how rad (or not) they are.

DEMON'S SOULS

Three Cornered Hat: Lost some of its edge with the remake but makes for a very versatile hat that can compliment many outfits. Difficult to obtain if you don't know what you are doing (Pure White World Tendency in Latria). Loses some points for being gender locked.

DARK SOULS

Witch Hat: Not a huge fan of the straw detailing, but the silhouette is nice. Nothing really matches the purple outside of the corresponding set. Can be obtained from killing The Four Kings which can done at various points in a playthrough. Big Hat: Lives up to name. Perfect if you don't want to see your hollowed face. Very expensive hat (183,000 souls) mid-to-late game. Lovely.

DARK SOULS 2

Black Witch Hat: Is purple. Very iconic look but the purple makes it hard to pair with other pieces. The ornamentation on the tip of the hat is fancy. Can only be bought pretty late-game from the bipolar guy. I can look past a lot of that for providing Zullie lore. Moon Hat: Whimsical. Also pretty difficult to pair with other stuff and also can only be bought late game. I like the little moon charm at the top though.

DARK SOULS 3

Worker Hat: Yeah sure I will include this one. The brim is a little lacking but for a super early game drop, a witch can deal with it. I did have to farm for this one, though, so that is always annoying. Sage's Big Hat: Absolutely excellent. The brim is beautiful, the veiled crow mask is inspired and you can get this 2 bosses into the game. 2nd favorite witch hat on this list. Karla's Pointed Hat: The perfect traditional witch hat. The black matches with almost everything and has a great angled silhouette. Unfortunately, can only be bought after you save Karla late in the game. Worth the wait, though. Black Witch Hat: Still purple. Not many things purple to pair this with but great for nostalgia. Found deep within the second DLC, very late game loot. I am glad this hat doesn't obstruct the neckline of the matching set like in DS2. Welcome back Zullie.

BLOODBORNE

Bone Ash Mask: A combination of a witch hat and skull mask = perfection. Very fun silhouette with creepy eye details on the mask. You do have to go a couple chalices deep into the Pthumeru Chalice Dungeons after fighting Blood-Starved Beast, so it can be obtained with plenty of game left to play. People like to pair this with the Charred Hunter set but I cannot condone that decision due to the clipping that ensues. This is my top favorite witch hat on this list.

ELDEN RING

Spellblade's Pointed Hat: A versatile hat for friendly and evil mages alike. The brown leather makes it easy to pair with most pieces and has a nice little pendant for ornamentation. Can be looted at a variety of points in the game after a certain pretty boy kicks the bucket. Rest in peace. Snow Witch Hat: Perfect for an ice magic build but impossible to pair with anything. Mid game acquisition after doing most of Ranni's questline. Honestly, Ranni is the only one who can pull this off. Alberich's Pointed Hat: Wonderful black and red color scheme. Unfortunately, it is meant to be worn with high collars, so it looks a little awkward on most clothing. Acquired late in the game at the capital. Missed opportunity to have the altered version glow with the Erudition gesture. 3rd favorite hat on this list for obvious reasons. Honorable Mentions: Preceptor's Big Hat and Queen's Crescent Crown were both up for consideration but the lack of a point on the former and a lack of a brim on the latter, I could not include them in good conscious.

In conclusion, DS3 has the best selection whereas Elden Ring has the biggest variety in vibes. I hope this has helped to inform all future fashion decisions for your intelligence builds.

[leave-a-l1ght-on]

*Slaps the table*

Calvin Fischoeder headcanons!

His full name is Calvin-Percival Robert Fischoeder Jr. when he was a kid some people called him Cal,Vinnie,or Perci.Or junior if it was by his parents or an elder family member(live laugh love Calvin with a double barrel name)

He's 64 years old(Felix I imagine is 59 or in his late 50s so he and Calvin aren't too far apart in age,I imagine them being a little under 4 years apart)

His father is a German immigrant(though he frequently traveled to Switzerland and Austria to live with family for some times before he moved to america.)He(as his the father) spoke german whilstt he still alive,he forced Calvin to learn.Calvin in his day to day life doesn't use German that much ,but when he wants to confused people,or when he gets angry or feels any other intense emotional,or just when he feels like it he speaks German.He's still fluent.

In Calvin's younger years before he went gray he was a ginger.He had a lighter shade though.Because of this He or Felix will joke about him having no soul(Grover also would've joked about it but Calvin and Felix would act like that's not funny around Grover and act like grover's insensitive just to mess with him)

He learned how to ice-skate to simply spite Felix.

When he was a kid he took ballet,tap,and piano.He was expected to do more than Felix since he's the eldest child.(Felix only took Ballet)

He has 7 younger siblings because just because(headcanons are fun)

His mother died when he was 16.Every year on her birthday he spends the whole day at her grave,and spends most of the day without his eyepatch on.He brings a cake and some flowers there,and pretends like he's speaking to her. On the day she died he also spends a lot of the day there,he doesn't spend as long there as her birthday since its more sad for him,he brings flowers and he also leaves a shot of her favorite spirit. He doesn't do any of his landlord duties or any of his jobs that day.

He definetly has an alchohol problem (this isn't really hc since this is really backed up in the show)

He was allowed to drink when he was a kid.(I think this is also implied in canon and it just seems really in character for him)

He's tried to grow facial hair several times but he cant ,its always been very pathetic facial hair.And at some point he just gave up.When Felix brings up that Calvin doesn't have any facial hair he says he just didn't want to grow any instead of the fact he cant grow facial hair

He started a fake religion in his late teens to associate with his father's businesses to try and get them registered as non profits so he and his father wouldn't need to pay taxes.(much like what the kids do in with aquatisicm.)

Throughout the majority of his childhood aside from the earlier years of his childhood he played baseball,he continued to play baseball until his mid to late 20s during in college years

He killed Baxter.

He had kids,he wasnt the best father nor was in very present in his daughters lives but he was there for the when they really needed them (he would've had his 2 daughters sometime after Shelby left him so I would imagine the latter years of his 20s or his early 30s.He would've had his kids with a partner he had at the time which I need to develop a bit more.)He also definitely played favorites with his kids like his dad did with him and felix.

Him and Felix eat dinner together every night.

He and Felix frequently has a movie night which alot of the time Felix ends up getting to pick it because Felix somehow always manages to win a game they play to decide who gets to picks(which Felix usually chooses to watch a musical,most of the time ,Rent.)

Game night with Calvin an Felix always ends up with one of them getting injured.(Inga is very annoyed with that)

He took part in raising Grover :3(he was not good at it)

His favorite color is actually red but the suit he usually wears belonged to his father

Calvin's favorite animals are squriells are pidgeons and he meant to get into pigeonry but just had never gotten around to it.his favorite pidgeons are Lahore pigeons.

He's a cat person

[visualnovellover]

Hiii!! Hope your having a wonderful day/night! Just wanted to ask how you grind money?? I'm so broke and I wanna take up robins payment too :(

Hiiiiiiii!!! Thank you and I hope you're also having a wonderful day/night!

There's a few ways to grind money! But it all falls down to what your gameplay style is! Here's a list of getting big money when starting a new game and late game in general!

Jobs that give decent money:

Office Work/Temp Job (Simple and easy but annoying)

At the start you can easily start working for temp jobs, only during the weekdays though. If you're in late game and already maxed out your school grades then it doesn't matter. It's a decent job good enough to get decent money (if playing early game) that ranges based which floor you work in and the bonuses the manager will give you which is also based on their love towards you.

Now the annoying part. There's a possibility on some floors where some parts of your clothing will get snagged on a shredder and might lead to getting your clothing shredded rendering you naked. There's also a special mechanic while working in the office is the complaints you get. Idk exactly what the requirements are to get complaints but basically if you gathered enough of those you get sent to the Security. And lastly the molestation and nonconsensual because when has dol ever have a scene without this.

Danube house jobs (Simple but a bit taxing on time)

One of my go to actually! I suggest going to Danube insted of Domus and the Flats for jobs as the payments ranges from £10 to £300 based on the kind of jobs you encounter. Of course it's only possible if you have enough stats but some jobs doesn't require any skillcheck! The only problem is probably the time and your fatigue stat which will be a problem to your PC

Just like any other, there's always a chance of molestation and nonconsensual to happen! But the pay is really good so there's that.

Selling flowers (Taxing on time but easy enough)

If still in early game and you haven't got any vegetable plants yet then this is also a decent way to get money. You just have to wait for the flowers to bloom though. I advise on getting roses seed as they have a more higher value/price than the other flowers. The time period for it to bloom is a bit long so it's better to harvest a lot of flowers and selling them afterwards. And it may be a bit tedious but selling in the marketplace instead of the factory is preferable if you prefer selling your products in it's full price/original price then getting half of it.

This way is also one of the ways to raise up your business fames which will be helpful on the long run once you go through alex's farm and want to sell off your produce in the factory.

Again, there might be a molestation and nonconsensual scene if you flirt too much with your customers.

Masseur/Spa (Difficult to unlock)

A much more annoying job to get in mid game once your beauty is maxed out or you have good enough hand skills. But it's decent enough to work in soooo.

It's also where you can max out your hand skills if you haven't and also get an achievement with a high skulduggery skill.

A job that has a 50/50% chance you can get molested in! It's safe enough to work in without worrying about it.

Docks (Time consuming)

I really don't suggest working in the docks. The pay is decent enough but the time it consumes is annoying, you're better off getting a job in Danube then wasting 12 hours for a meager pay.

But you do you. The docks has some pros and achievements stored if you want to work in it. It's also a good advantage if you have a high skulduggery and managed to see some items (vials, gold etc.) that's worth stealing during the night.

There's also some molestation and nonconsensual scene, but you know that already.

Cafe before renovation/Chalets/Dog Pound (Low, will not recommend)

One of the few that I will basically not recommend for any new players to work in. The pay is not worth it. Work in other places, even the docks, just not here.

Except for the cafe! If you work enough with a high dancing skill and managed to get Sam's love up, you can start working as a chef (which is a bit difficult if your PC doesn't have the lactating trait)

Dancing in the Strip Club/Brothel (Caution)

If you have enough dance skill and managed to get into the brothel then you can work as a dancer. A decent enough pay but the real money is getting with a client.

But if dancing in the brothel, you might end up triggering the crowd and lead into a nonconsensual encounter. It's better in the Strip Club since you have a safety net (the guards) to protect you. If dancing isn't in your alleyway then -

Bartender (Decent)

A good enough job that can give you a decent amount of tips. It's also a good way to gather intel about smugglers and steal from them.

You already know what I'm about to say. Another chance for molestation and nonconsensual scene to happen (to Darryl especially).

Hookah Parlour (Decent)

A much more late game job as it requires you to finish all the events (which can be too pricey) for you to acquire the job.

You also need to catch lurkers which can be a problem if you haven't went through alex's farm yet.

Now that's also for jobs that can give you a hundred of money, now to the jobs that give more money!

Jobs/Items that give a lot of money:

Selling produce to the Factory (Requires a lot of produces to sell it)

As I stated above, once you go through alex's farm you now have the option of gathering produce from harvesting vegetables and animal products. You'll get a lot of it and if you gather more of it (Stardew Valley type of shit) you can ship it off to the factory to sell in bulk!

Ofc the downsides of it are time, Remy and annoying animals.

Selling Aphrodisiac to the Compound (Simple and Easy)

One of the things you can get from Alex if you give them lurkers to use.

It's one of the easiest ways to get a lot of money, but annoying to catch lurkers.

Antiques (Troublesome but worth it!)

Antiques are one, if not the most easiest way to get a shit ton of money in early game. Yes there are a few skills and scenarios based on RNG but it's worth it to get easy money!

Two immediate items that I would go for is the diamond and the treasure map with the added bonus of the compass. The problem is you need to have a high swimming, skulduggery and history stat to do it.

Some items are weekly resetting! So once Sunday rolls around you can go back and get those items again to sell off to Winter! I recommend the compass in the Smugglers Cave as it cost about £2000 and you can keep coming back every week to get it!

Here's a pic of me hoarding a shit ton of compass and other antiques in a course of a few months

But it's a bit hard to get all the antiques as they have very specific requirements to achieve and it's just too much trouble. The pay is worth it though, and making Winter happy is also worth it!

Niki's Photoshoot (Easy)

I keep forgetting on how to meet Niki but it always involves having high Exhibitionist stats but anyway! The price is good enough, especially if you have a lot of audience. It's also a weekly thing, so you can only get to shoot once a week. The only requirements is to have a high exhibitionist skill and to gain a lot of audience.

The only problem is if Niki left you alone with the audience.

Temple Allowance (Restrictive)

I will not recommend going through this if you don't plan to go through Sydney's route. The allowance is good if you maxed out your grace, but the punishment is not something I really want to go through though. And it also takes a long time before you can get your allowance.

Dancing in Danube Mansion (Dangerous)

One of the jobs that can earn you a lot of money in one sitting. The way to get this job is by basically being an ass to Charlie or if you are an Initiate who maxed out your grace then Jordan will ask you to search for a missing Initiate in Danube. There's a bug where even after finding the initiate you can still choose to dance in the Danube Mansion.

If you also have a high skulduggery skill you can probably get about 5k by stealing. And if you left your audience enthralled you're guaranteed a 5k pay- the horse/centaur though is the problem. And triggering the audience as well.

Cafe Renovated (Easy if you lactate)

Like I said before, if you don't have the lactating trait then it's gonna be troublesome. Working as a chef you can gain a decent amount of money based on how much buns you made/'cream' you milked out.

The downside is the suspicion bar but it hardly matter since it'll go down if you don't work in the cafe everyday.

It's easy and simple! But you can still get molested and a nonconsensual encounter though.

And that's all I can remember about high paying jobs! Hopefully this is helpful to you anon <3! Good luck on paying Bailey!

[vespertinusidiot]

Hakuoki Heisuke Route- Mini Review

Ok, so this is my small review of Hakuoki for Switch. I had bought the English version of Demon of the Fleeting Blossom when it came out for mobile years ago and played through Saito, Okita, and Harada’s routes. When it came time for me to try Heisuke’s route, I kept getting stuck mid-route with a bad end and dying no matter what I did. I even used a guide. So after my 6th or 7th attempt, I just gave up and watched the anime (which I thought was really good).

Anyways, I feel like even though the otome community kinda died for a bit, it has been revived and spread in the West with all the Western releases and along with it comes one of the most popular games ever: Hakuoki.

I actually purchased both Kyoto Winds and Edo Blossoms for full price ($80) in 2019, but I lost Kyoto Winds before I ever got the chance to play. So this time, I bought the Switch version and ended up playing here.

I don’t think the Switch version is any different from the Vita upgrades, other than the fact that they just combined it all into one game but I did go into it blind.

I thought by following my heart I could see which character I ended up with, but I got an unrequited love end and it moved onto Edo Blossoms, and every time I just died! (Great!!) So I started over and used a guide for Heisuke’s route because I figured I could just finish it out from my original playthrough in 2018.

Ok, onto the actual route (minor spoilers):

I actually really enjoyed the route. I thought out of all the characters, Heisuke had a really good connection with the FMC because they were the same age. It didn’t feel like he was too mature or felt the need to hide things from her. Instead, it was really nice to see the progression in the first half not only beginning to trust her but also coming to see her as a friend and then crushing on her quite quickly.

Cutie 🥰

(spoilers)

After he became a Fury, it was actually a good progression of his internal struggle and acceptance. It didn’t feel whiny or overly dramatic. Instead, it felt like he was finally growing up and accepting the path he chose because he didn’t want to die so early.

(back to review)

In the second half, Sannan pissed me off, and I actually went in blind since the anime only really covers a bit of Sannan’s villain arc but it does make me excited to play his route. I enjoyed the fact that even though they were not completely intertwined with historical battles, they still had a bit of connection to the Shinsengumi. Because in some of the routes I remember feeling sooo disconnected which is fine, but I really enjoyed this.

For those of you who say chizaru is a weak mc 😆😒 she's not putting with bs

Now to be 100% honest, I did use the force skip button a lot because honestly, I didn’t really care about a lot of the smaller convos. Not because they were boring, but simply because they were mostly just showing the growing romantic progression of the relationship and I didn’t really need it. I lowkey did want to know what happened next plot-wise!

The ending was quite bittersweet but good nonetheless. It wasn’t unhappy, and according to the sequel, they do live a good life together. But I feel like out of all the characters (spoilers), Heisuke had to deal with the drawbacks of being a Fury the most since his whole arc was with the Fury Corps, and he ended up physically weak. Which is fine, because he was done fighting anyway.

I know I’m so late to this, but I did want to get my first official review out before I undertake the new in-game-only characters (Iba, I’m looking at you).

Overall, I’d say 7/10. Cute route.

Spoilers cg

They're so cute annoying chikage together

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/30/2024

a good 60% of my brain is screaming in unemployment terror at all times so these will be somewhat abbreviated until that situation resolves itself

listening

sleeping on the ceiling by friday pilots club. this is a song by a five-piece alt-rock band from chicago that could EASILY open for mid-aughts fall out boy. i would like to think it is from the point of view of a freshly-turned vampire. listen this slot isn't about the best song i heard this week it's about the one that got stuck in my head the most

Hey, I swear I'm okay Honey, I been sleepin' on the ceiling all day Yes way, like hey I swear I feel great Looky, looky, love the feeling of being okay Yes way

spotify.

reading

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and the Amulet of Power by Mike Resnick. it was in a dollar book bin and i got it as a joke gift for a friend. mike resnick is a remarkably prolific writer who's done a lot of tie-ins. i don't have anything particularly notable to say about his star wars books but they are a sort of minimum viable product? they feel star warsy and don't annoy me on every page.

this book was published in 2003 and treats the people of the Nile delta and their beliefs with all the delicacy you might expect from a 2003 video game tie in novel. i do think the twist is being telegraphed way too hard. perhaps i should say instead of sending a telegram mr resnick has simply set the telegraph office ablaze as a signal fire. the titular triangle-pointed woman herself ms croft is VERY insistent she's just as good as the boys. this is pretty on par for my experience of 2003 empowering womens' feminism AND my experience in a male-dominated field so i can't really ding it too hard? aside from the racism, in the notably racism-free fields of archaeology and video games and archaeology video games, this book is aging a little strangely overall. i do not know if i will finish it before i mail it out to my friend, but despite its sins it is a very fast read.

watching

watched the four dungeon meshi episodes. it's cute! ProzD was an unexpected delight! it made me want to make something fancy for dinner but alas i still have to go food shopping!

some posts on my dash were talking about how the episode with the mollusks inside the living armor really got them hooked and i have to agree. i also saw the full potential of the show's speculative biology unspooling before me. i don't know if i currently have the brainwidth for the manga but it is going on my reading list for after i finish berserk. which is kind of like saying i'm going to watch chopped after i finish up hannibal

playing

forgot i had an original gen switch, given to me through a complex series in a complex series of friend barters back in uhhhh late '21? early '22? i got through 3/4 of the divine beasts the first time around and then could not crack the camel. it was well past time to create a new switch profile so i could start a new game without losing the old one.

omg twinnsssssssss

i did forget how goddamn big the map is. i have just now unlocked the camera and the memory quests, i have not really. done much more than basic tutorial and beginning of game stuff.

making

anxiously junebugging between a whole bunch of shit. finally figured out the correct charger/extension cord setup for my bedroom. replaced all the fluorescent lightbulbs and took them to be recycled. fixed the hall door enough so it latches closed and an irritated cat can't claw it open. tidied up the balcony and patio and repotted the surviving houseplants.

in textile news, started this cross stitch. this is a Bless This Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy Star Wars themed sampler, i have made two as gifts and had to throw out a mostly-completed one i made for me bc of the moths. but i now know exactly where this will go in this apartment and i already have the frame and i bought all the floss pre-being fired, so might as well? the real bitch of the situation here is backstitching the buildings. it's so start and stop. it's so much tan. i talked about this on the weekly siblingchat facetime and now my brother has requested one lmao. that's his christmas gift settled. i suppose.

i had somehow forgotten how loadbearing textile crimes are for me. i haven't done much of anything since the moth debacle, and that was almost two years ago. last night i found some suspicious holes in a camisole and i'm really really hoping it's just cat claws and not moths or carpet beetles or any other fun things that eat clothes.

[tartrat]

2025 reviews part: Leda and Cygnus are some presumable number of years old as of the current story.

How many? Don't know they seem to have perfected anti aging. Honestly obsessed with this week's previews. Also i'll be continuing the suggestion drawings tomorrow, i'm just trying to finish school work for tomorrow night so that i have more time at the weekend (I get Fridays off now). onto my thoughts.

In Your Eyes (Remix): I love how confident Leda is here. Also the young Mihaly in the back, Also Cygnus with Short hair. I don't really like The Weeknd but this is a really cool map, like Leda's owning it here. If only she didn't turn evil. I mean i love all of Night swan/Leda's maps so no surprise that i would like this one as well.

Padam Padam: This one looks like its going to be sore. Fast and flows really well. Its nice to see that we might get Kylie minogue songs more regularly now. I really want them to do the Robbie Williams song she was featured on, Kids, like i think that would make a good map.

My Heart Will Go On: Completely unexpected and I love this one so much. Like they went full couples karaoke and brought all the cheesiness with it. Its going to suck doing this one solo because it would be so good to do with another person. I hope that it ends with them doing the pose from titanic. It'd be really funny if they straight up name these two Jack and Rose. Can we get more maps like this where its just karaoke. Like the performers seem to have gotten really into it which just adds to why i like it.

Dubidubidu: Is Kitta a mother now? also i found out this song is from 2003 and not this year so theres that. Like Padam Padam this one looks really fast, but also really fun at the same time. Honestly the song is catchy, and i watch those block breaking videos that use it allthe way through just to hear it some times.

Pink Venom (Extreme): I don't really think Pink venom needed an extreme, the song isn't that high energy, and when i saw a clip of the official choreography i was like, yeah the classic seems like enough. Because even that clip of the official choreo i saw wasn't that hard, unless it gets harder.

The ranking:

Joint first: In Your Eyes, Padam Padam, My Heart will Go on, Dubidubidu

2 Pink Venom Extreme

So how old are The Traveller, Night Swan and Cygnus currently. Like they have to be at least in their late 40s to early 50s. Like Night Swan And the traveller both have adult children who are presumably in their early to mid 20s. Then Cygnus, who i sorta assumed was quite old already (because he has been said to have built that city), but he still looks young in beggin.

Now we've seen a young Jack and Mihaly, so i'm assuming we'll see a young Wanderlust and Brezziana at some point. They should show more coaches when they were younger like Beedabop as a computer chip, The I will Survive coach when they were alive (being alive is technically younger than being dead), Kapyy as a five year old eating crayons, the list is endless

We are now officially two weeks (well one week and six days) from the release date, which feels so weird because i'm pretty sure this is the earliest a game in the series has come out. Its also weird that its October now like wasn't it just August yesterday? I'm annoyed that the update yesterday removed the "opus" sorting option and ordered all the plus tracks in the style that unlimited was. I hope for the first season they add opus back, i just preferred seeing it all alphabetically by game. I'm still confused about how back in JD2021 and 2022 they removed default alphabetical sorting.

[ikshitahuja]

Top 5 Mistakes When Picking Procurement Suppliers

Picking the right procurement suppliers can totally make your business shine—or tank it if you get it wrong. Whether you’re grabbing stuff like pens for the office or big gear like steel for a project, a solid supplier keeps everything humming along and saves you some bucks. But mess it up, and you’re stuck with headaches. I’ve seen companies stumble here plenty of times, and I’m here to share the top five slip-ups to dodge. Let’s get into it!

1. Going for the Cheapest Option Every Time

It’s tempting to pick the supplier with the lowest price—who doesn’t love a deal? But cheapest isn’t always best when you’re procuring materials. A buddy of mine runs a café, and he once went with a dirt-cheap coffee bean supplier. Guess what? Half the shipment was stale, and his customers noticed. Low cost can mean low quality—or even late deliveries that mess up your procurement construction schedule. Look at the whole picture: reliability, quality, and price. A little more upfront can save you a ton later.

2. Skipping the Background Check

You wouldn’t hire someone without checking references, right? Same goes for procurement suppliers. Skipping the homework is a rookie move in procurement sourcing. Are they legit? Do they deliver on time? I talked to a small business owner who picked a supplier without digging in—turns out, they had a rep for ghosting clients mid-order. Check reviews, ask for past client contacts, or even peek at their social media. A quick look can save you from a shady deal, especially for hardware procurement.

3. Ignoring Communication Vibes

Ever had a friend who never texts back? Annoying, right? Now imagine that’s your supplier for electrical procurement. If they’re slow to reply or vague about details—like delivery dates or stock levels—that’s a red flag. Good communication is everything in procurement. My cousin’s procurement construction gig almost tanked because a supplier wouldn’t answer calls about a delayed shipment of procurement of construction materials. Test the waters early—email or call them with a question. If they’re flaky now, they’ll be worse when you’re counting on them.

4. Forgetting to Match Your Needs

Not every supplier fits every business. If you’re a bakery needing fresh flour daily, a bulk supplier who only ships monthly won’t cut it for procuring materials. Or if you’re into eco-friendly stuff, a supplier with zero green options might clash with your goals. I saw a tech shop pick a supplier great for laptops but clueless about niche hardware procurement—they ended up scrambling. Ask yourself: “Do they get what I need?” Look at their specialty and make sure it lines up with your game plan, whether it’s procurement of construction materials or something else.

5. Not Planning for the Long Haul

Picking a supplier isn’t a one-and-done deal—it’s a relationship. Some folks grab the first decent option without thinking ahead about procurement sourcing. What if your business grows? Can they keep up with electrical procurement demands? Or what if they hike prices later? A friend’s retail store got cozy with a supplier who seemed perfect—until demand spiked, and they couldn’t deliver. Look for flexibility and scalability. Chat with them about future needs—see if they’re in it for the long run or just a quick buck.

How to Avoid These Traps

So, how do you steer clear of these mistakes? Start by setting your priorities—price is cool, but quality and timing matter too when you procure equipment. Do your detective work—check their track record and talk to others they’ve worked with. Keep the lines open—test how they handle questions before you sign anything with procurement consultancy services. Match their strengths to your needs, not just your wallet. And think big picture—pick someone who can grow with you, not hold you back.

Final Thoughts

Picking procurement suppliers isn’t rocket science, but it’s easy to trip up if you’re not paying attention. Avoid the cheapskate trap, dig into their rep, watch how they talk, match them to your vibe, and plan for tomorrow. I’ve watched businesses thrive by getting this right—and flop by rushing it. Take your time, trust your gut, and you’ll land a supplier that’s more like a partner than a problem—whether it’s for procurement consultancy services or beyond. You’ve got this!

[sing-in-me-oh-muse]

Writer Highlight: SubHero77 - Part 1

Each month on Sanctuary, a Discord server that nurtures writers of all kinds, highlights a writer and asks them questions about their writing process. This month's writer is @subhero77!

@SUBHERO77

Ao3 Profile: Subhero77

Works

The Tales of Bunnyx and Apex Hunter - Season 1

A game of cat and mouse(except we're a rabbit and a tiger)

Afflictions of the Heart

1. What is your writing process? How do you approach a fic or original work? (e.g. Are you a Pantser? Plotter? Do you focus on dialogue before description? etc.)

It differs between individual chapters and the story as a whole. When writing the overarching plot, characters, and worldbuilding, I usually create multiple detailed Word docs to help me separate and organize those story elements. For example, I have a total of 13 Word files for “The Tales of Bunnyx and Apex Hunter” such as “Notes”, “Lance and Alix’s relationship”, “Bunnyx’s powers and abilities” etc, etc. An important thing for me when setting up the scaffolding of my story is the amount of “time in the limelight” each character, their relationships and overarching events relevant to them have in the plot. Balancing these things at times reminds me of following a recipe and the specified portions for each ingredient.

As for the chapters, I write down the sequence of events that happen in them as bullet points before the actual writing starts. The bullet points usually go off the summaries I attached to the chapter in the overarching plot phase and are coupled with story beats from previous chapters I want to continue developing or call back on. Because of that, I only write the bullet points after the previous chapter has already been posted. Also, I make a handful of note files while writing the chapters themselves (like the chapter’s glossary of uncommon and French words that I then place on the AN.) Finally, I'd like to add that a lot of the interesting plot points you see in the chapters were in neither phase of the pre-planning and simply came to me when I was already knee-deep in it. It's honestly a very “magical” feeling to see these ideas coming to life mid-chapter writing as if they had been planned long beforehand.

2. What was your first story and why did you finally decide to write?

Hmm, I think my answer depends on technicality. The first ever story written outside of schoolwork was the backstory for my first D&D character “Rim Vhorhas”, a human rogue taken in by the thieves guild who was eventually caught after a job went wrong with his partner. Now, if we are considering creative writing outside of backstories, then it would be “The Tales of Bunnyx and Apex Hunter”. It's still WIP and I have since written a few more short stories, but I still regard it as my big first leap into the writing world. As for the reason why I began writing outside of the backstories, which were of course mandatory, it was due to the encouragement of a close friend of mine who I first shared my ideas with. I’m a big daydreamer, so a lot of the story concepts I'd been mulling on to that point had already made their way to our conversations, and after they showed interest in them, I was emboldened to start writing.

3. Where is your favorite place/time/conditions to write?

Ideally, I would be in my room in the early afternoon(so it's neither too early nor too late in the day) while listening to tropical beach ambiance. I used to have a coffee shop ambiance + rain playing in the background but I found it more annoying and distracting as time went on. A soft breeze is a nice addition but I usually forget to raise my windows.

4. What is your favorite pairing, platonic or romantic, and why?

This question is a bit tricky to answer because it depends if ships in my writing are allowed – totally not self-serving lol. Regardless, I wasn't in the shipping world until I joined the Miraculous fandom. I remember falling headfirst into LadyNoir fics as the “teen superheroes unknowingly in love with both sides of the other” trope was the main draw of the show to me, so it's a good contender for my top ship. Once the well of fics dried up I switched to Marichat and really liked it for how Chat and Marinette saw even another side of what they usually show to the other aka Marinette all nervous around Adrien and Chat being an overly romantic goofball with Ladybug. But between the two, I appreciate more the blend of the character’s facets that Marichat shows. If my own work counts then it’s Lance and Alix (Alliance) by a wide margin. In short, it's my two favorite characters interacting with one another, which is the most fun I’ve had in my writing. It's easy to bounce back and forth between them as they are the ones I'm the most knowledgeable of in the cast, and If nothing else, being the conductor of their “tales” gives me a greater sense of attachment to them, which in turn makes their interaction all the more touching, especially since there’s no one else at the reins.

5. Do you have any thematic elements you’re interested in or that consistently show up in your writing?

Off the top of my head, heroism and Family dynamics are one of the most prominent themes in my writing. I sometimes dive into subjects such as “finding one’s true purpose/calling” like how Lance early on in the story admits he doesn't have much in terms of plans for the future, and also the balance between an individual’s goals and ambitions vs the needs of the community such as their family.

How do you deal with writer's block?

I can be stubborn and simply try to force my way through it, which leads to subpar writing that future me will curse me for while editing, or I try another creative project like picking up on one of my abandoned short stories. The point is to not stop the momentum of creativity in your head despite the roadblock because then it can be harder to “get back on the horse”.

What do you do if you have too many ideas?

Whenever I get an interesting new idea for my stories, I make a point to write it down on my “Notes” doc. Then, I slot it in where other ideas already written down could make a logical connection to it. For example, I had the idea that Emelie left something behind for Nathalie one day, and the other that Nathalie would visit Tsurugi HQ in Japan to meet Tomoe but something went wrong during her visit. So, I planned for a necklace Emelie gave Nathalie, which she always keeps on her person, to be the catalyst behind a major problem on her business trip.

How did the idea of Lance as an OC come to you? What made you want to explore the Miraculous Ladybug canon from a different angle?

When I put my sights on a story in the Miraculous World, I wanted a character that I could have full creative control over without worrying about mischaracterization and OOC moments. For Lance in particular, there were many themes I wanted to explore that made the basis of his character: fish out of water, the pain and the subsequent fear of loss, a lack of self-confidence and worth but most importantly a lack of purpose. Also, the irony of giving a character who at first glance had little to no meaningful life goals, the miraculous of ambition, was not lost on me.

As for seeing the world from a different angle, I simply consider what the show offers as valuable building blocks for my story’s fou1ndation.

---

Thanks for your answers, Sub!

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