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sacredsorceress · 10 months ago

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Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

#wolverine #logan howlett #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #xmen #xmen fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine

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celuere · 4 months ago

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hopefully we don‘t have no babies.

pt.2 of kiss it, bit it, can i fit it?

pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader

context: she is navigating you with slow and gentle steps (at first) through new found territory (aka sesbian lex)

cw: modern au, experienced dilf!arle, implied age gap (reader is in mid/late twenties), she yaps you an ear off about her spiders, pet names, praising, arle teaches you how to properly finger yourself ngh, mirrors, voyeurism, strap-on, rough sex, dumbification, arle is called peruere

word count: 3.8k

art credits: saditstic beauty: side story a

birthday special for you guys now WHERE are my presents. also thank you to angel and @angelic--kitty who more or less inspired me for this continuation ngh. i have to be honest, i outdid myself with this one. have with over 3k words of sesbian lex.

„are you certain you don‘t want to feed her? she is quite tame for her species.“

you watched the eight-legged creature crawl over her tatted skin in sheer horror.

how did she come up with the name „bambi“ for this monster of a spider?

„i-i‘m pretty certain. i‘d rather just… watch you feed her from a safe distance…!“, taking a step back from the woman and her…. pet. well, one of her various pets.

you almost died of heart failure the moment you stepped foot into the entomologist‘s basement. terrariums lined up against the walls, everywhere. there had to be at least twenty of the damned creatures here. and today happened to be feeding day so you got to watch your date hand-feed them one by one. and of course, she didn’t leave out any introductions nor did she spare you the details of the individual species.

„this beauty is called a cyriopagopus lividus or rather a cobalt blue tarantula. they‘re known for their extraordinary blue coat and got often mixed up with the omothymus violaceopes even though they differentiate quite a lot from each other in my opinion. from size, color up to their natural habitat and attitude, they could not be more different. this one is actually a bit lively for her species-“ as if the damned thing seemed to understand her word for word, it took off from her palm and rushed up her arm where it abruptly stopped right on her shoulder, „my, the name freminet gave you really does suit you, speedy…“

yet your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, not because of the sudden scare. rather because she just seemed so… different to you… how skilled she was handling the spiders to her barely lacking knowledge about each and every species she collected over the years. she seemed like a totally different person in that moment. and quite frankly- nothing turned you on more than watching those inked hands putting the haired monster back into its enclosure.

„how come you are so fond of them…?“

you almost regretted your question immediately at the way she mustered you all of a sudden. hesitant. as if she was weighing her options for the unknown.

„i… i‘m sorry if that was too personal… you don‘t have to tell me if you don‘t feel comfortable with sharing that information with me…!“, you stammered as you tried lifting up the blanket of unease covering your heart. yet, peruere merely shook her head before guiding you out of her basement, a hand resting on your lower back when you walked up the stairs.

„i am not uncomfortable… not with you. it‘s just… it is not exactly the happiest story. it wouldn‘t be in my best interest to ruin tonight’s mood.“, she flashed you one of her rare smiles, but something sad clung to the way her eyes stared into yours.

you‘ve only been seeing each other for a good two months now, none of you dared to breach the topic of your past yet, her children had still to make your acquaintance, too. however, peruere showed great effort. daily phone calls, occasional dinner dates, randomly picking you up from your workplace whenever her schedule allowed it. she was truly, truly interested in you. and that fact caused your stomach to hit one cartwheel after the other.

who expected the 38-year old woman to still be so full of love? love she wants to share with you.

„fine… another time then.“, you mirrored her soft expression, not wanting to pressure her any further about this topic.

peruere could feel something in her ribcage tighten at the sight of you. goodness, you brought out a side in her that she didn‘t even know still existed in the first place. you made her feel young again. and she loved you for it.

she hadn‘t loved in a long time.

„it is way past midnight already… do you still want to stay the night or do you want me to drive you back home?“, a tattooed hand came up to gently tuck a few lost hair strands back behind your ear.

with her children staying at certain ginger uncle‘s house tonight, the night belonged to you. and only you.

„well… what would you prefer? please, be honest… i wouldn‘t mind either options.“, instinctively you leaned into her warm palm, letting her thumb caress your soft skin as if it were the last time.

she looked like the moon on a lonely night yet her touch equaled the feeling of being kissed by the sun itself. warm. trusted. gentle.

„i‘d love for you to stay the night…“, and so you did.

when you walked into her bedroom for the first time after going through your evening routine in her bathroom beforehand, you didn’t know what to expect. however, you weren‘t surprised, nor disappointed.

the theme of the room was kept in a gentle dim light, a king-sized bed with simple white-black bedding was resting in the middle of the room. other than that the only things you could spot was a closet, a mirror and two nightstands. if compared to her kids rooms you‘d realize her own little abode is significantly smaller, probably because she doesn’t see a good point in taking up a lot of space which she only frequents for precisely one thing: sleeping. and something else.

otherwise it looked spotless. not a single corn of dust in sight. the sheets were laying neatly folded on top of the mattress and you could make out the soft scent of a room freshener clinging to the air.

„i apologize if my bedroom seems to not meet your expectations… i like to keep things simple.“, with her back turned to you, peruere opened her closet to fish some new sleepwear out for herself.

but you were too focused. too focused on the fact that she was standing half-naked before you. her back muscles evidence of a strict diet and years of exercise. and you could spot three names imprinted underneath her right shoulder.

Lyney & Lynette 02.02

Freminet 09.24.

something in your chest tightened at the sight of her kid‘s names tattooed onto her skin. she really loved those rascals with her entire being even if they weren’t hers by blood, they will always be a part of her.

„do you have sleepwear to change into?“

„oh, yes i do, but thank you…“, you watch her put on a plain black shirt and a pair of red-black checked pants and now you are convinced. she looks handsome in literally anything.

the older woman didn’t expect a lot when she turned around but who would’ve thought seeing her sweet date in a tight tanktop and some shorts would blow her fucking mind. you weren’t even wearing anything sexual, yet her thoughts ran rampage inside her head while she tried to make an effort to avoid looking at anything else other than your face.

„so… ready for bed?“

„mhm… gosh, look at that pretty pussy…“

it took the two of you not even five minutes until the first layers of clothes came off.

which happened to be your shorts and panties. you were laying underneath her with spread legs and your own fingers working up and down your cunt, you wanted to give her a show.

but the longer you tried pleasuring yourself, the bigger the frown on peruere‘s face got.

the woman had precisely one question on her mind: did someone ever teach you how to properly finger yourself? you might as well be trying your luck at a lottery ticket the way your fingers… fumbled your folds. you weren‘t even wet enough when you tried to insert your index- and middle-finger.

„stop right there.“

„but-“

„stop. you will only end up hurting yourself.“, crimson eyes watched you remove your hand from your cunt as you tried masking the utter humiliation she just exposed you to.

„don‘t look away.“, with her hand grabbing your chin, she moved your head back to face her directly, „did someone ever teach you how to properly pleasure yourself?“

„h-huh? what do you mean?“

„all the men you have been with before, did they ever bother to finger you correctly or at least show you how to do it yourself?“, your ribcage is suddenly too small for your lungs at the vulgar words she‘s using.

„i… no… n-not that i remember… why are you asking?“

she looked at you for a few seconds before sighing and scooting back, tugging you up by your hand, „how am i supposed to sleep knowing such a pretty girl can‘t even get off all by herself… come here.“, she patted the space between her legs.

just what did she want to do?

when obliged to her request it almost immediately clicked when you were met with the reflection in front of you.

you were sat before a mirror. in her lap. butt-naked.

„y-you want to show me…“

„dear me, so smart… that is exactly what i want to do.“, peruere grabbed you by the plush of your right thigh before pulling your leg over her own and spreading you open in the process.

„so, here‘s how things will operate from here.“, she wasted no time and used her two fingers to spread your cunt open, „i will first give you a little… demonstration… and then it is your turn. how does that sound, hm?“

„th-that sounds humiliating, if i am being honest…“

„it isn‘t. at all. i am not offering this to make fun of you. please don‘t get me wrong, doll. i just want you to know how to take care of yourself the next time we‘re on a phone call.“, she let her lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, your pussy now significantly more slick and your clit aching.

oh, that phone call. just thinking about it caused you to slightly whimper.

„i… o-okay fine… show me…“

„first of all you need to look. not at your face or mine, i need you to observe your pussy when i‘m demonstrating. understood?“, her voice had something stern in it. something that shouldn‘t be allowed to be so incredibly hot.

„understood…“

„good girl. now, first of all, you want to take your middle- and ring finger, that way it is easier for you to get as deep as possible when you are using them on yourself. got it so far?“, she waited for your nod before continuing.

„the main reason why i stopped you earlier was because you were way, way too dry. you need to be slick enough to easily wet your fingers in order for them to slide in with little to no problems. sex or masturbation is never supposed to hurt. if it does you are doing something wrong.“, her expression changed into something softer the more nervous you became by watching her fingertips circle over your sensitive clit, „shhhhh… just follow my fingers, look at how wet you are getting by just a few rubs to your clit…“, using those same fingers to spread you open by your folds. the whimper found its way over your lips all on itself.

„a-ah… th-this is embarrassing, peruere…“, you mumbled before turning your head away once again.

but the entomologist wasn‘t having it.

„if you can send me whole videos of you bouncing your pussy on a vibrator, you can also watch me fingering you in a mirror.“, she whispered almost dangerously low into your ear, her tone laced with something sinister that caused your body to grow hot… and your cunt to painfully clench around nothing.

„let me propose an offer.“, just then, her fingertips slowly sneaked their way into your slit, „if you sit through this lesson without any more complaining and manage to properly get off on your own fingers… there‘s a little reward waiting for you… alright?“, her voice came out silky, reduced to a soft pur as she hummed, pleased to find your eyes fixed back onto the wet mess between your legs.

„a-alright…“, your breathing became heavier the deeper her fingers pushed in until she was knuckles-deep inside your warmth.

„good girl. feel that?“, slowly she began to feel up your walls that were gripping onto her so tightly. peruere only chuckled, „missed me, hm?“

„hah… hngh… o-of course i did…“, you said, as you pressed yourself more into her chest. she felt so warm. so comfortable. the faint note of her usual cologne still clung to her but it lit up a flame of desire inside of you that you only ever experienced with her.

„adorable… we have several options now. you could start to move your hand back and forth…“, she demonstrated by pumping her fingers slowly in and out of you, drawing a moan from you in the process, „or curl up your fingers and search for your g-spot. it usually sits two to three inches behind your vaginal opening, right…“, electricity suddenly shoots down your spine as her two fingertips delicately press and rub into your spot, „…here.“

„o-oh archons-! h-how-?!“, you clenched the fabric of her pants in your hand as she continued to massage the sensitive spot inside of you with ease.

„after knowledge comes experience, darling. you could also combine both methods and just…“, she had you squirming around in her lap by the first pump of her fingers, curling them up each time she slid them back into your hole, „…fingerfuck yourself however you please. you can vary the pace, the motions, just whatever feels better to you.“

something, something with motions… speed… how did she expect you to pay attention with her fingers showing you what heaven truly looked like?

you were so focused on these experienced fingers working their way inside your pussy that you didn‘t even process her next words.

„and now it is your turn, sweetheart.“, the whine you let out when she retreated almost brought the older woman to her knees.

you were just too cute in her lap. cute and unfucked. too unfucked for her liking.

„m-my turn…?“

„how am i supposed to know that my little lesson bore any fruits without a test? come on. make good use of those fingers now and pleasure yourself.“, her voice was dripping with professionalism, as if she were talking to a student.

despite the humiliation being still very much present, you obliged to her demand without as much as a simple nod. moving your fingers down, carefully sliding them through your wetness, „a-and what about my r-reward…?“

crimson eyes were fixated on the way you circled your clit in the reflection of the mirror before she leaned back, supporting herself on the mattress with her arms, „so impatient… i will only properly reward you once you manage to get off. on your own. after all, i don‘t reward slackers.“

archons, she was strict.

but did her tone only add further to the heat resting between your thighs?

fuck, it did.

and you needed that strap-on badly.

so you watched her expression falter for the slightest moment when you shoved your fingers back inside your warmth and they went in so easily. you gasped at how smoothly they went inside you, how welcoming you were compared to a few minutes ago, that you leaned your head back onto her shoulder when you started to search for your spot.

easier said than done.

„i… i-i can‘t i find it, peruere…“

„you can, angel. it should sit right above your fingertips now. come on, we don‘t give up so easily here. think about your reward…“

she didn‘t tell you that she will still pound your cute pussy senseless, even if you fail.

she just won‘t be as gentle with you.

„i-i don‘t have as much experience a-as you do…“, your voice trembled with your growing frustration when you missed it yet again.

„darling, i‘m a whole decade older than you. i assure you we are getting-“, peruere watched your legs jolt as a moan rung through the bedroom, „…there. my, was that so hard now?“, a knowing smirk played around her lips as she watched you fall apart in her lap. all on your own.

this was different. so much different from someone else doing the work, it was even slightly better than that. you knew what motion felt the best already, the pace you wanted to set and quite honestly- you regretted not looking into your own pleasure like this way sooner. but having a 38 year old overworked woman lead you to the right path… oh, what a wonderful world you were living in.

your orgasm felt like warm hug embracing you, washing gently over you but leaving you nonetheless breathless, aching for more.

„my, look at that… aren‘t you just the sweetest little thing…?“, she didn‘t wait for a reply when she moved over to her nightstand and fished out… her very own strap-on.

„h-huh…?“

„what? don‘t tell me you changed your mind about the reward, doll…“, and truth was that she just couldn‘t wait any longer to fuck you into the mattress. with how needy your eyes were still looking at her, the way you rubbed your slightly trembling thighs together, your fingers already pulled out but the hand was still resting between them.

like a little lamb waiting for its sacrifice.

and she needed you. bad. she wanted to make up for the years you wasted with the wrong partners, showing you what you‘ve been missing out on your entire life.

her.

„n-no no! i-i didn‘t change my mind at all-!“, you crawled towards her side of the bed where she was currently standing when she started buckling up her fake dick.

the sight of you kneeling before her on the bed, tits pressed together in that skimpy top of yours forced her to wet her lips.

you will be the end of her.

„lay back. legs spread. mhm, just like that.“, she had to suppress a groan when you exposed your soaked pussy to her eyes once again. the way she could make out your nervous breathing by how fast your chest rose and fell back down. you were excited.

„good girl. now show off that pretty cunt to me.“, her throat visibly moved when you spread your folds open for her once more. one moment she was standing, the next she dropped to her knees, hungry lips roaming over your warmth, a tongue greedily lapping up your juices as muffled groans filled the tense bedroom air.

it was almost a reflex when your hand found home between her hair strands, pushing her further into you when you couldn’t stop the sounds of pure ecstasy any longer.

yet, peruere didn‘t devote her mouth to your pussy much longer, already leaving a hot trail of messy kisses up to your tummy, tattooed hands working the fabric of your top over your tits, giving them both a treatment consisting of biting your nipple and making sure to cover those beautiful girls in lovebites beyond recognition.

„o-oh god- fuuuuck… p-please…!“, you whined, whimpered, whatever. hands tracing the outlines of her trained biceps when she fucking finally towered over you, lips swollen from treating your body like a temple, crimson eyes dark with nothing else other than carnal desire.

„you want me? you want my cock inside that tight pussy of yours, hm?“, she purred as she grabbed your right leg and placing it over her shoulder when you felt her rubbing the shaft through your slickness.

the way you shook your head up and down like a total maniac was all she needed.

„then you shall have me.“

often peruere didn‘t look like she was approaching the 40 years mark.

but those hips made sure to remind you of it yet again. slamming so perfectly into you, her cock settling each and every time against your cervix when she bottoms out, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

she swore she could feel you gripping onto the silicone, how you sucked her in as if you were about to starve and despite not even being penetrated sexually herself- she was groaning from the deepest pits of her throat. not caring about your juices staining the sheets underneath you or her sleeping pants.

„p-peruere…!! p-peru-!!“, you mewled in the sweetest tone as you grabbed into the sheets until your knuckles turned white, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from how deep she was penetrating you from the inside.

„all those before me, did they ever fuck you as good as me? did they ever have you screaming over their cock like this, hm?“, the both of you overheard the sound of the bed creaking underneath her almost animalistic pace if it weren‘t for your skin slapping together. you could almost mistake it for a round of applause.

however, your answer was clear.

„n-no-! th-they didn‘t- Hngh!!“, your spine melted into a beautiful arch when she angled her hips to go after that one certain spot, stars already dangling around your vision from how well she was fucking you.

not even your climax stopped her. it only further motivated her to press your legs up until your knees were almost touching your ears so she could rut as deeply as possibly into you.

she hated how she couldn‘t get pregnant more than anything else right now. nobody ever made her feel this wanted as you in that moment. how you begged for her, pleading for salvation in form of her cock and what not. you wanted her fuck you into this mattress for eternity, to turn you into her own personal doll to play with.

„mine… mine, all mine…“, giving into the urge to kiss you stupid almost made her cum herself. the moans that were swallowed by her own lips, your arms snaking around her neck to keep her pressed against your body as she held your face in her hands as if you were but a precious diamond she needed to be careful with. a strong contradict to how she was plowing into you and how strongly the room smelled of sex.

and if your place was underneath her with seven inches filling you up, then so be it.

your world almost shattered after yet another exhilarating high when she pulled out, not even the slightest hint of her being out of breath yet.

„don‘t look at me like that, sweetheart. i‘m not even remotely done with you yet.“, her biceps strained as she picked you up as if you were nothing but lightweight to her before flipping you over on your stomach, „hips up.“, a hand patted the fat of your hips and you obliged more than happily.

a pillow was placed underneath you and you also dragged another one over to rest your head on. you knew she was about to rock your whole world.

„comfortable?“

„m-mhm…“

„then hold on tight.“

#arlecchino genshin #x reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #arlecchino #fatui x reader #genshin impact #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x female reader #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x you #genshin wlw

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bettsfic · 5 months ago

Text

things i've learned about cooking after finally getting the hang of it after 20 years of trying and also finally organizing my kitchen:

note that i mostly cook for myself so a lot of this won't apply to people who have to cook for their whole family

invest in good storage solutions. buy the pop top pasta holder, the fancy glass tupperware, the very pretty candy jar. if you like looking at it and it's something you'll use for years, maybe the rest of your life, it is worth the money

that said, depending on your budget, making a list of all of said storage solutions (and utensils, tools, appliances, etc.) and buying one a month is a good way to spread it out. again, if it lasts a lifetime and you'll use it, it's worth it

cook food you love. this is such a simple thing and for some people probably obvious, but as someone who is not at all a picky eater, for years i found myself only cooking things that were tasty but not to *my* tastes, just because the fancy recipe i found told me it was good

another note about cooking to your own tastes: if you're just starting out cooking for yourself, don't bother thinking about what's healthy. focus on making meals that you want to shovel into your face. healthy can happen once cooking gets easier. the idea is that you're learning to love food you make *more* than food that can be delivered

THINK SMALL. i, a midwesterner, seem to be genetically predisposed to buying the most giant of all things, because you can use big stuff for small things but not the other way around. for example, if you're only cooking for yourself or one other person, you can buy one of those little half baking sheets instead of a full one. a leeettle skillet for your one grilled cheese instead of hauling out the one that can fit four. the bigger one is heavy and annoying to clean, and even though that might not seem like a big deal, when you're weighing your options, these kinds of hurdles start to add up. again, if it will encourage you to cook, it is worth investing in

speaking of hurdles, make everything as easy as possible. i am a perfectionist. i like doing things the Right Way. so when a chef says, "don't use cooking wine, use real wine" when i don't buy alcohol, and "the key to good asparagus is only buying it in season" when i don't even know what that season is or where to buy asparagus locally, it just means i won't try that recipe even if i was excited to, because i've been taught (get ready for it) it's not worth doing unless you do it right. but fuck that. you're not aiming for the best, you're aiming for food you're excited to eat

when i say "as easy as possible" i mean so easy may that it might even become fun. buy jarred garlic, an electric can opener, pre-cut vegetables. pots and pans you think are cute. mats for your feet. the prettiest apron you've ever seen. take note of anything that pings your brain as "hard" even if your natural inclination is to dismiss it because *other* people don't find it hard. write it down. figure out a way to make it easier or better

cooking is an inherently sensory experience. if you have sensory issues, your goal is to accommodate yourself to the highest possible degree. if you avoid washing your hands because you hate the smell of your soap, throw it out (or give it away) and go on a journey to find soap that's more pleasing to you

if you research cooking, especially on youtube, you'll find a lot of youtubers who try to encourage you to make excess so you can freeze it, meal prep so you don't have to worry about cooking throughout the week, etc. these are great tips but again: none of that stuff is worth thinking about until cooking becomes easier. just think about one meal at a time

if you hate leftovers, make sure you're only cooking single-serving easy meals or slightly more difficult double-serving meals. don't bother with 4 servings of something you might hate. for the next-day serving, it'll probably taste better if you heat it up in the microwave on 70% or 50% power. this has saved like a hundred otherwise disgusting meals for me

i know those weekly meal box subscriptions are basically a scam and crazy expensive, but i bought 1-2 a month for a year with the same service and i started to understand the techniques they used above and beyond the recipes they were providing. it's really eye-opening to realize one of your favorite meals is really only 6 ingredients and you know *how* to put them together without reading any instructions

honestly the meal box was not more expensive for me than my food budget. everyone says buying grocery food is way cheaper, but if you're buying 2lbs of rice just to cook 2 cups and then you're never going to cook rice anymore, that's still the cost of that whole bag of rice. with a meal box, they only give you exactly what you need for the recipe. combined with going out to eat and getting delivery, 2 boxes a month ended up being about the same price

if you're the kind of person who needs to understand the theory behind basically everything in order to anchor the skills it requires, i highly recommend the book Ruhlman's Twenty. it goes through the science of cooking like heating food and why salt makes things taste good

once you get into a groove and you have a good idea of your favorite ingredients, pick 40 to always have on hand so that you're not buying for individual recipes and you can also organize your kitchen more easily. with 40 base ingredients you know that unless there's a special occasion, you'll basically only have these items to find a place for

if you work from home, break dinner into prep time and cook time. if you prep dinner when you go eat lunch, it's very hard to say "i just don't feel like cooking" when it comes to dinner time, because 1) all your food is out and ready to go, and 2) you're already done with half the work

progress and improvement may be slow. be patient with yourself. cooking is a life-long commitment and so you're not in any rush. be honest to yourself about both your ambitions and limitations, and set up your kitchen and shopping list to suit your needs

food is necessary to live. if you have to choose only one aspect of your life to focus on improving, i recommend cooking. even though we live in a convenience economy and can get basically anything delivered, i find i'm so much happier now. i have more energy. i sleep better. cooking food you love is one of the best gifts you can give yourself

#food #food tw #cooking #advice

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kimmeiy · 21 days ago

Text

the wedding

sophia laforteza x reader

synopsis- sophia’s cousins wedding doesn’t go as expected, especially since y/n seems to always find a way to be involved in her family drama

warnings- none?

wc- 1298

pt1

“before we leave, let’s go over the rules”

the day of the wedding. a day you dreaded, not because of what happened last time you saw her family, no you’d never regret that. you just hate ceremonies, especially long ones that require you to be in the vicinity of the laforteza family. hopefully this won't be too long.

“oh you were serious? uh, no drinking and stay with you”

“and…”

“come on, can i at least say hi to him?“

“nope, you’re staying away from matthew today. you’re also forgetting the important one”

“and that is?”

sophia glared at you. of course you’d ignore that one.

“keep your thoughts to yourself, okay? don’t defend me today. it’s a happy day for my cousin and i don’t want you to take that from her by mentioning her parents relationship problems again”

of course she’s right. it is a happy day, surely you can restrain yourself.

“okay, i’ll bite my tongue today. you look gorgeous by the way”

and she does. her dress fits her perfectly and her makeup is beautiful. if you didn’t have self control, you’d stay home and kiss her until you pass out but you know that’s not an option.

“you too, beautiful”

at the wedding venue, sophia immediately grabs your hand, keeping you close. her aunt glares at you from the minute she sees you, straight to the start of the ceremony.

“um, sophia, she keeps staring at me”

you whisper, keeping your eyes on the crazy woman as you sit in your respective seats

“ignore her. she’s not gonna do anything”

she dismissed it without even looking away from the front.

“it’s kinda creeping me out…”

you eventually shrug it off and try focusing on the wedding. your hand finding hers, playing with her fingers as you get bored.

sophia meant it when she said you’re not leaving her side. she hasn’t let go of your hand once as she walks around during the reception, speaking to her family. you expected that you’d get nasty looks but surprisingly, most people just ignored you.

“y/n!”

everyone except matthew. turning your head, you see matthew coming straight to you, drink in hand.

“i’ve been looking for you. let’s get some drinks”

you look at sophia, who’s looking right back at you, waiting for you to say no.

“sorry matthew, i’m not drinking today”

you can see the disappointment on his face, which he doesn’t bother to hide, but he doesn’t let that stop him.

“fine, let’s hang though. everyone else here is boring”

“well… i’m gonna stay with sophia. you can stay with us if you want, if that’s okay with her”

she reluctantly gives the okay and matthew groans but he agrees, saying something about how he hopes for some entertainment.

so now sophia doesn’t have just one idiot following her around, she has two and they’re worse together. she tries to continue her conversation with her aunts but the laughter coming from directly beside her is distracting. she doesn’t mind the laughter but the aunts take offense to it.

“excuse me, but we’re trying to have a conversation here”

just as you’re about to apologize, she speaks again, more agitated this time.

“i swear it’s like you have no respect or regard for anyone but yourself. it’s always something with you.”

you look around for a second, first at matthew, who looks a little too excited for the interaction. then at sophia, before looking back at the aunt, trying to see who she’s talking to and ready to speak your mind. sophia knows it’s going to be a repeat of every other time so she quickly squeezes your hand.

“y/n…”

that warning was enough for you to bite your tongue but that didn’t stop you from giving the woman a dirty look.

“come on y/n, really? that’s it? you’re not gonna tell her off?”

you look at matthew’s pout and scoff. of course he wants there to be drama.

“nope, i promised to keep my thoughts to myself today”

“that’s lame, i’m gonna get a drink”

you’re surprisingly quiet the rest of the time, ignoring all the slick comments that you happen to tune in to. everyone who looks at you can tell that you’re bored and would rather be anywhere but here.

you haven’t moved from your spot since sophia started her conversation, so when someone bumps into you and spills wine all over you, it doesn’t fail to annoy you. what made it worse was when you looked up, you saw her aunt from the engagement party smirking at you like she just got her lick back.

“oh my god, i didn’t see you there!”

the conversation paused and everyones now watching you two, waiting for your reaction.

you look at sophia, taking in the look of panic on her face, they way her hand tightens slightly around yours, tugging a little.

“it’s fine. no big deal”

you can tell everyone around you is surprised. they expected much worse from you and you don’t miss the relief on sophia’s face.

that doesn’t matter though, because it’s clear that the older woman just wants a reaction from you.

“you should really watch where you’re going.“

“i haven’t moved from this spot”

“honestly though, it’s not like the wine messed up anything good. my cats collar probably costs more than your outfit”

“that’s nice”

your nonchalance is clearly upsetting her and she’s getting more and more frustrated that you aren’t giving her the reaction she desperately wants so she starts trying harder to push your buttons.

“i really don’t know what sophia sees in you. i mean yeah, you’re kinda pretty but that’s about it. you’re no good. she can do so much better. if only she’d agree to go on those dates her mom used to set up for her”

usually she wouldn’t say anything. it’s not like her to talk back to her family, but hearing someone talk about her girlfriend like that seemed to hit a nerve.

“excuse me? you have no right to wonder about anyone’s relationship, especially with what you have going on at home. go deal with your husband before you try to question what my girlfriend means to me. just because your marriage is shit, doesn’t mean you can try to interfere with other people’s relationships.”

“well damn”

the silence that follows honestly makes the whole situation even funnier. it takes everything in you not to laugh knowing there’s a time and place and this is not the time. if anything, it’s expected that you talk back but no one expected sophia to be the one dragging her.

her aunt looks embarrassed and angry. how could her good niece say something like that to her?

“sophia! look at how she influenced you! this is even more reason for you to get rid of her!”

“i’ll let her leave me when you start respecting yourself”

you say before dragging sophia away, and to the bar, way too eager to get drinks in your systems.

“i didn’t expect that from you”

“well she was going too far, i couldn’t just let her say stuff about you”

“aww you care about me?”

“shut up. i’m proud of you though. you were nice all day”

“yeah well, i couldn’t break my promise” you say, lifting your joined hand to your lips, placing a kiss to the back of her hand.

“hey! what’d i miss?”

matthew appears out of nowhere, joining you two at the bar.

you catch him up with everything that happened and he groans.

“are you kidding me? go to the restroom for two seconds and i miss everything. this is why i drink.”

“i swear you’re only here for the drama”

#sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #katseye x reader #katseye #katseye sophia #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #megan skiendiel #lara raj #jeong yoonchae

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xxepherr · 6 days ago

Text

.ೃ࿐ HERE COMES THE SUN

summary — after years of searching, you finally make the move to scouring the next city over — metropolis. it turns out all the answers you needed were hidden there all along.

pairings — clark kent x reader

pronouns — none

word count — 2374

note — part one in 'here comes the sun' miniseries. it's a cute little soulmate au, masterlist and series information can be found here. can be read as a standalone though if you wish :) i also hope this isn't boring i wanted to set the scene a little for the series but got carried away.

THE SUN WAS HOME, you had almost forgotten that after your stint working for the gotham gazette. gotham was cold, dark and full of despair — nothing like metropolis.

metropolis seemingly never saw a dark day. the nights weren't even as dark as gotham's nightfall, the stars making it all seem less lonely out in the big city. it was a warmth you had missed, those homely, golden rays melting into your skin and reminding you of the home you had long left behind in the search for this clark kent.

the best you could come up with was that he had been sent to crash into earth like a meteorite instead of exploding on krypton like everyone else all those years ago now. the sun never explained what happened like you had hoped because it was customary that you were only allowed to know about the prophecy, not who you're bonded too. so, over a decade later, you were still searching because the only information available to you was all you could find out for yourself.

it took a lot of learning, but you had somehow picked up a career in journalism. it paid well enough and it was the perfect cover for the reason you travelled so much. you'd bounced between so many states and their cities now that you had last ended up in gotham in a fit of desperation. you were beyond grateful that you didn't find clark there because that was dark and depressing and also lacked the sun that you knew he needed. the sun seemed so dim in gotham — it was hard to decipher why. you were just glad you were out of there now.

metropolis felt busier, but it was balanced out by how nice it was to not worry about being a victim of some fucked up crime. sure, there was crime in metropolis still, but it wasn't the joker or harley quinn 'accidentally' mowing down people when escaping the batman. you'd seen enough of that to last you a lifetime.

YOU swore you would never get used to the glasses. they were cute — you wouldn't settle for anything less — but they were uncomfortable. however, walking around without them wasn't really an option. your irises were mini suns, something definitely unnatural by human standards, and you had learnt that they accidentally blind people when you get too excited. it was all a front, much like the journalism was, but it would all be worth it when you finally found him.

still, you pushed them up with one hand while slipping in through the revolving front doors, clutching onto your bag with your other hand. it was relatively easy to transfer between newspaper outlets because you covered the weather. apparently there weren't a lot of journalists that specialised in meteorology in the newspaper scene rather than the broadcasting one, so years ago you had learnt all you could about it and went from there. it was better than political or entertainment journalism because then you had a constant eye on the world around you. you didn't want to waste anymore time than necessary in searching for you destined soulmate.

you tapped your fingers anxiously on the way up to the bullpen's floor in the elevator. perry had called you up already yesterday because something had come up and he wouldn't be at work today, and so he briefed you on everything you needed to know and answered any questions. he said that lois lane and jimmy olsen would help you find your desk and to bother them with extra questions if need be.

you preferred that phone call over having to sit in his office and wait around until he was ready. that's what every other outlet made you do; at the gotham gazette, you sat around in an uncomfortable chair for over half the day until their editor-in-chief finally acknowledged your existence. at least this time you could skip the eventual meeting and get straight to work.

the elevator doors finally opened and you filtered out into the bullpen. it was organised chaos: employees rushing around with stacks of paper, both blank and printed, others had cameras around their necks and were staring up at one of the tv's at some local news report.

okay, you thought, eyes scanning every inch of the bullpen. it was a habit you had developed over the years in your search. clark kent could be anyone, and even though kryptonians looked human, it just meant that you had to look closer. please be here. it was a long shot, the chances of finding him at your workplace was slim but it was still possible. you hoped soon enough that you would get lucky and he would be in america before you moved on to canada and then europe, but it would be even more ideal if he would just appear where you needed him to.

nothing was jumping out at you. no one was freakishly tall or sporting a golden bangle as far as you could currently see. it was wishful thinking at best, and the sun through the large glass panes dimmed ever so slightly, unnoticeably.

"how are you?" the voice was suddenly in front of you, and you blinked for a moment, shaking yourself away from your gloomy thoughts. the man before you sported a smile as he held his hand out. a camera was strung around his neck, the straps looking a little worn, but the lens looked as perfect as his bright smile. "name's jimmy olsen, and i'm supposed to show you around."

everything about him was so bright that you smiled blindingly at him. the room's light brightened a little more, but he didn't seem to take any notice. he was contagious in a way that you had missed in interactions since living in gotham. shaking his hand, you introduced yourself to him as if he didn't know and, even though the handshake went on a little too long, you didn't mind.

jimmy yapped the entire time. it wasn't the annoying kind, you actually enjoyed talking to someone that wasn't miserable, and you learnt a lot more than you probably needed to know.

the perky blonde was cat grant, the gossip columnist with the mean-girl-from-high-school persona. the pulitzer prize winner lois lane who was horrific at spelling but one of the world's best journalists all the same. ex-nfl player steve lombard who leveraged his background into working the sports column. there were a heap of others that he rambled on about as he walked you through the bullpen to your desk but it was all lost on you.

"and here's your desk," jimmy took a breath as he stopped by an empty desk on the opposite side of the room from where he said his was. it was empty, only showcasing a computer and a cluttered pen holder. "'s not much but you can make it yours."

"thank you so much," you replied politely, setting your bag down on your new desk.

jimmy shrugged, "if you need anything, you know where my desk is." he left with one last friendly smile, heading straight back to his own desk. you took a quick, unassuming note at how the how desk that wasn't currently occupied was the one close to lois', but from yours there was no way to see who it belonged to.

emptying your things, you placed your name plate from your previous workplaces on your desk and set your laptop and its weather charts beside it. it felt good here, the overall vibe of metropolis and the daily planet just felt right.

THE EMPTY DESK BELONGED to the tallest man you'd ever seen in your entire life. he was so tall that when he was sitting down you could see him over the top of his computer when he wasn't leaning back.

you remained at your desk. going out of your way to meet someone wasn't really your thing, and seeing that he seemingly was friends with jimmy, you assumed you would get introduced to him later.

like some sort of motivation booster just being in the warmth of metropolis, you had already completed two tasks before lunchtime, something that took you longer everywhere else. the weather forecast for the upcoming week was published with cute little images depicting the weather events — cat had walked past, peered over your shoulder, and told you it was a good idea to use cuter images than the ones you normally did — and you had also completed the first draft for a report on a bushfire that had occurred yesterday.

closing your eyes, you rubbed them from underneath your glasses to rid the glare from staring at a screen for too long without blinding every employee on this floor. "okay," you mumbled to yourself, standing up from the chair and fixing your glasses. jimmy had briefly mentioned that the breakroom on this floor was small, and that there was a bigger one in the offices downstairs, but you weren't too fussed. for now, coffee sounded good. you could get food later.

no one said anything to you as you moved through the bullpen to get to the small breakroom. you could see it was you got closer — nothing much, just a couch, coffee machine, fridge and a vending machine all in a room the size of your bathroom back at your apartment.

making it through the bullpen in one piece, you barely avoided running into a trolley full of mail and ducked into the breakroom. you had only just crossed the threshold when you were gasping and stumbling backwards. you were half convinced you had missed the door completely and run straight into the wall until you noticed that you had bumped into the freakishly tall man that had the desk across from jimmy and lois.

"gosh," he said immediately, pushing his glasses up his nose. you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes — seriously, he was inhumanly tall. you couldn't believe earth could create people like that. "i'm so— oh."

his eyes trailed downwards and your eyes followed him, fixing your own glasses as they came close to falling at the collision. and then you saw it. the golden bangle on your wrist latched onto his, handcuffing the two of you together without you even noticing. your breath caught and dizziness blurred. with an experimental tug, you couldn't deny what you were looking at. the golden bands didn't budge, it was real.

he was real.

all your years of searching led you right to his place of work. it was so many years you couldn't get back but you were here now. he was here. your eyes were stinging with unshed tears at just the thought.

thinking quickly, you pushed him back into the breakroom and out of sight from the bullpen. "you're . . ." you trailed off quietly, glancing back into his gorgeous blue eyes. everything about him was so intoxicating, and each passing second the gold against your skin felt like it was heating up because of it. you cleared your throat and hoped it would clear the fog from your brain. "clark kent."

just saying his name made you feel tingly. it ran up your spine and fluttered out through your limbs, stretching into the tips of your fingers.

he repeated your name like a whisper, his blinking infrequent as he took in everything that was you. his gaze was warm, the homely kind, one that drenched you in copious amounts of unbridled affection. you knew you would have searched your entire life just to experience this had you not found him just now. it would have been worth it all the same.

it was magnetic. your hands slipped into his like they were made to rest there, squeezing his hands and feeling him return it. "so . . ." clark cleared his throat this time, his eyes scanning behind you. it wasn't awkward but the situation on whether you were going to accept or reject the soulmate bond was, and it wasn't ideal in the work breakroom where anyone could walk in.

"do you, uh," you could feel your face heating up, your cheeks tinging pink as the confidence disappeared, melting much like you were under his fond gaze. "we could go grab lunch . . . and then we could talk about this," you shook your hands until the bangles clattered against each other.

clark nodded, letting go of one of your hands. it wasn't worth letting go of the hand that held your conjoined bands, so he tightened his grip on that one instead. "jimmy said you're new here . . ." he remembered from the brief mention when he entered the office this morning. "i'll take you to the best spot in town?"

you agreed with a smile but he was already moving to take you before you agreed. you could feel his excitement, the proximity enough to feel weaker versions of what the bold held before accepting it. it was electric, charging you with that same energy as it zapped everyone firing neuron. "wait," you giggled quietly as he pulled you out of the breakroom. "people are gonna—"

"notice?" he shook his head with a chuckle. "nah. i did a pretty good job making sure no one ever pays attention to me." you didn't question it, saving that for a later conversation as he pulled you through to where the elevator was.

he was right, which you couldn't decide if it was depressing or not, because no one looked up at him once. and because you were new, no one paid much mind to you either. the only person who glanced up with calculative journalist eyes was lois lane, but you didn't have much time to dwell on it when the elevator doors opened. clark much like a golden retriever with kryptonian strength, pulled you inside and pressed two buttons.

as the doors closed, all you could do was stand in the comfort of the heat radiating off him onto you, the hole in your heart not yet full, but not as empty as it once had been in the presence of the man whose name had been inscribed into your every breath for as long as you could remember.

─── 𖦹 .✧˚｡taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @love-quinn @dinorawrss @tisilex @tocinohater @itzmeme @trulovekay

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cobaltperun · 1 year ago

Text

Jerks With Hearts of Gold

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

@alexkolax here you go, sorry I left this for last, I had a blast writing it! Not sure if this completely fits the frenemies to lovers you requested, but I think it turned out fine. Thanks for the wonderful request! 😁😁💙💙

Summary: You and Tara bicker, constantly, over the tiniest details, but little do her friends know, it isn't all as it seems.

Masterlist / Side story / Smut for this story

Word count: 4.8k

“No, you hear me! Quit picking apart every single thing you watch!” there they go again…

Sam groaned, burying her head in the pillow as she got front seat experience to yet another argument between Tara and you.

“I’m not! I just can’t turn my brain off!” you exclaimed and reluctantly Sam opened her eyes. There you and Tara were, arguing while the twins and Anika laughed their asses off, because of course they would.

“It’s a horror comedy!” Tara argued back, and by this point someone just needed to nudge either of you and you’d just kiss. But no one was doing that, because, according to Mindy, the professional expert, the two of you would just act disgusted and avoid each other. Meaning it probably happened before.

Although, according to Anika, the two of you were already together. Because, well, Tara brought you into the group. She vouched for you, granted behind your back, but still, she, apparently, hated your guts, yet she was the one who dragged you, literally, into the friend group.

Sam still remembered your valiant efforts to get free from Tara’s grip, yelling ‘Unhand me, Carpenter!’ as loud as it was socially acceptable in a park, while Tara grumbled something along the lines. ‘Trust me, I would, but someone insisted on meeting you!’ to this day they had no idea who insisted on meeting you. Because none of them did! Yet Tara claimed Chad did when he was drunk and that… wasn’t impossible, but it was a bit of a stretch.

At this point Sam was very temped to do it, just shove Tara into your arms. You’d either get together or stop talking to each other for a few days and as far as Sam was concerned either option was a win.

Wait… If you got together, you’d be here more often. You’d argue with Tara even more.

No. No! You would absolutely not get together!

Sam would not allow it!

“It’s too ridiculous to be considered a comedy! The woman’s head gets pulled off her body!” you shouted, arguing about whatever happened in the movie.

“Y/N…” Tara’s eye twitched, but she didn’t need her inhaler, so Sam was at least at peace with that. It really was you and Tara being plain and simple childish.

“And that dance montage? Get that out of here!” you complained and for a moment Sam could have sworn your and Tara’s hands touched, just for a moment.

Tara threw her hands up, so Sam must have been seeing things. “The actors were underage, what did you want?!”

“Not even implications, thank you very much!” well, Sam could see some reason in that argument.

Mindy apparently had enough and snapped her fingers getting your and Tara’s attention, though it was clear both of you were reluctant to give it to her. “Come on, at least agree that the actress is pretty,” she said, and the actress really was beautiful, so hopefully you and Tara could find common ground there. Instead of bickering about that as well.

“Never. She looks like Tara,” you immediately shut the idea of agreeing on anything down.

“Excuse me, what?” Tara demanded. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You turned back to Tara and slowly smirked. “Oh, you know exactly what it means,” a moment later Tara was storming into her room, her face red with anger, and you as satisfied as you were just sat back down and sipped on your drink.

At least it was clear you and Tara weren’t getting together anytime soon, so Sam could relax.

There was one time she saw this happen and she began threatening you, only for Tara to come out, yelling that she would deal with you and that Sam shouldn’t get involved. Sam sighed back then, accepting that somehow Tara just liked having her buttons pushed by you, and pushing your buttons in return. It was a strange frenemy situation you and Tara were in, but Sam begrudgingly learnt to accept it.

~X~

Jerk, that’s what you were. Of course she knew exactly what you meant, and you were a jerk for that, making her flustered. She was lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling, still blushing, though not as much as when she came into her room. You were still as annoying as you were the first time you met.

She met you in a literature class, and she was the only one taking it so she couldn’t sit next to Mindy, Chad, or Anika. And by pure, dumb, luck, she sat down next to you, and she regretted it immediately as she could smell the cigarette smoke on your clothes and she couldn’t move away since the seats were taken, and well, plenty of students smoked so she kinda learnt to deal with it. Especially while she was going to parties where cigarettes were the least of her problems. As far as her asthma went.

It still irritated her lungs.

“Hey, I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduced yourself and she was weary, of course she was, she was targeted by Ghostface twice. It was a miracle no one she loved was killed the last time, though both Anika and Gale just barely survived.

So, when you immediately introduced yourself she was suspicious, even though she was the one who sat down next to you. It was just her paranoia. “Tara Carpenter, it’s nice to meet you,” she still accepted your hand because she still, despite being paranoid, wished to live a relatively normal life.

And that’s how you met, you didn’t give off psycho vibes, granted neither did Ethan and Quinn, and she didn’t even want to think about Amber. But she felt strangely comfortable, despite the scent of cigarette smoke.

“You okay?” you noticed her discomfort, a lot faster than most people would.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. Just my asthma,” she smiled lightly, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she didn’t feel like lying.

Your eyes widened and you cursed under your breath, understanding what she meant. And you pulled your chair further away from her. “Shit, I’m sorry. I would switch, but,” you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. “The only people I know in this class smoke a lot more than I do,” you did get up to open the window a few feet away from you as Tara looked at you, honestly not sure if she should get suspicious or if she should find your actions endearing. “Does this help?”

Tara nodded, it did help a bit. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

She had no idea it wouldn’t even take half an hour for your first argument to happen… And it began so nicely.

~X~

You were grinning like a fool in the Carpenter sister’s apartment, doing your best to ignore Sam’s exasperated look and Anika’s suspicious glances. You’ve come a long way since you met the group nine months ago. They initially glared daggers at you, Sam especially, when you and Tara argued in front of them the first time. Well, argued wasn’t exactly the right word, more like a very heated disagreement on a minor detail in the movie you just watched. Now they just accepted it as normal between the two of you and learnt to ignore or find amusement in it.

You barely even remembered what the book you started arguing about was, but you remembered very clearly what the argument was. And you felt sorry for it right now, as you didn’t know how close to home you were hitting.

“It’s a debate, on whether or not people deserve a second chance,” Tara answered the question the teacher asked.

“Correct, thank you. And what would you say, Miss-“ the man paused, having yet to learn all your names.

“Carpenter, sir. I say it depends on what is done and if there is an excuse and effort to fix things,” she said, convinced of her belief.

She sat down as you watched her, you agreed with her, though in your experience people rarely put enough effort to fix things. Still, you wanted to see how strong her conviction was.

“Does anyone have a different opinion?” the teacher asked and you raised your hand. “Yes?”

“I disagree entirely. It doesn’t depend, there’s no going back after broken trust, there will always be cracks, fears, doubts,” you argued and saw Tara raising an eyebrow as you focused almost entirely on her. “And people rarely put enough effort to make it up to the one they hurt.”

Tara bit the corner of her lip, and you’d later find out it was a habit when she was getting a bit anxious. Since you found out you made sure to never bring her to that point. Well, nowadays your arguments were mostly silly. “It’s not just one person that needs to make an effort. Both need to do their part if they want to rebuild their relationship,” she countered, briefly apologizing to the teacher for speaking out of turn, but the man just gave the two of you a go ahead.

“People who hurt you, truly hurt you, leaving deep scars, emotional or of any other kind, either don’t love you, or have no control over themselves, and it takes a lot of effort to fix the second one,” rare few were strong and mature enough to fix that, to gain control, and not do it again, and even fewer did it while accepting that the one they hurt didn’t owe them a second chance.

“You can’t know what they went through, some people need help to do that,” Tara argued and you didn’t realize until later that day that she wasn’t just talking about some belief she had, that she actually went through that.

“Exactly, because I didn’t do it to them. And I refuse to pay for the damage someone else did,” you countered and the argument continued, going back and forth, without either of you being necessarily wrong or right, it really depended on the point of view. You just had the tendency to be a lot more direct and confident in your arguments, making them sound stronger than they perhaps truly were. Tara was more willing to meet in the middle, to avoid direct confrontation, and it made her a much more pleasant discussion partner.

~X~

Tara scrolled through her photos, through a secret album that required a password, just in case anyone got really curious. The photos were completely innocent, but it was the person she was with that made them a secret. And she grinned, looking at the two of you laughing, your arm around her as you hugged her from behind and she took the picture.

You loved going on her nerves, but you had your moments, rare moments where you were just completely soft with her. She had literature class twice a week, and two weeks in she was a hundred percent sure you were a menace she would gladly kick out of the class, just so she never had to look at your face and smug smile and rare, soft smile, ever again.

She noticed it in the second week, but she wrote it off as an accident. But the scent of cigarette smoke was weaker than the first week. You probably didn’t get a chance to smoke before class. And then the second week she realized she couldn’t smell cigarette smoke on you at all. She was breathing perfectly fine, nothing in her vicinity irritated her lungs, but she didn’t say anything. Surely you didn’t quit cigarettes for her.

Any idea that you did that went crashing down through the closed window on the third floor their classroom was on and landed on the harsh concrete with multiple deep lacerations from the glass. Because five minutes later you were arguing about the book that was assigned to read. Even the teacher was getting a bit annoyed by the two of you at this point. But he encouraged healthy debates, and you and Tara were, technically, still having just a debate.

The week after that, when she once more didn’t smell the familiar irritating scent she just had to ask. “Did you quit smoking?” it was rare for the two of you to have a civil conversation that probably couldn’t start an argument, but maybe this would end like that.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Figured it was healthier, and I really don’t want to trigger your asthma, so two birds with one stone, I guess,” you sounded confident, but you still looked away, proving to her that you could, after all, get a bit shy.

“Oh,” Tara, however, was blushing, the heat in her cheeks was damn near unbearable, because even Sam still smoked occasionally. “Thanks,” she pushed her chair a bit closer to you and pulled her things out of her bag.

“Don’t mention it,” you said softly. And then, as if your softer, gentles, kinder, side ran out of battery, you went right back to how things were the past couple of weeks. “Your essay is nonsense; I don’t agree with one thing you wrote.”

Curse the teacher for making you give each other your assignments to read and debate on! “Yours was complete bullshit, I swear you just typed words until you reached the necessary length,” she fired back, both of you already slightly grinning.

~X~

Tara was easily the best person you could have ended up sitting next to for your literature class, though you would never, absolutely never, say that to her face. The only issue was that you absolutely could not go one class without bickering.

You had a long night at work and were actually quite sleepy during the lesson one time, about a month into the semester, and you were catching every other word at best. Your notes weren’t making any sense, and you even had no energy to argue with Tara. So, maybe, just maybe, the day would end without arguing.

“Here,” Tara sighed, pushing her notebook closer to you near the end of the class and you raised an eyebrow. “Just copy my notes,” she told you.

You smiled, leaning closer to her and if anyone said your shoulders were touching they were being a huge liar. The biggest of them all, because there was absolutely no contact between you and Tara Carpenter.

None whatsoever.

“Tara,” you whispered and looked at her, completely serious. “Your handwriting is awful,” you told her, and you swore you saw a vein pop up on her forehead.

“That’s what I get for trying to help you,” she shook her head in disbelief, though she didn’t take her notebook back.

~X~

You and Tara rarely hung out outside of classes before she introduced you to her friends. But there was one time, when all her friends went back to their parents and Sam was working a night shift, so, Tara went to your apartment, dragged you out of your comfy bed, she actually did that. Well, she tried, she was strong given her size, but she wasn’t that strong.

You still remembered the terror you felt. You opened your doors to Tara, woken up about an hour after you fell asleep and let her in. You didn’t even argue, you just closed the doors behind her and went right to your bed and fell back onto it as she rambled about some party or whatever. Something about Sam not letting her go to a party alone, and you were her only option. How was she even going to explain to Sam that she wasn’t going alone? Sam had no idea you even existed!

Okay, maybe she did know you existed if Tara complained about you, but that definitely didn’t make you a fitting candidate to keep Tara company at a party. You were just about to fall back asleep, Tara being in your apartment didn’t bother you one bit, she’d get bored and leave. But then she began pulling your hand to get up.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumbled sleepily, and surprisingly she let go.

Which was very concerning.

You opened one eye and saw Tara taking several steps back with a very mischievous grin on her face and then charging forward. “Tara!” you cried out, fully awake and jumping to your feet as she landed on your bed, elbow right where your guts was, though you doubted that part was intentional.

Your bed miraculously survived the Tara bomb.

Tara laughed as she rolled to the side, lying her head on your pillow and an annoying part of your brain found the image in front of you rather appealing. “You should have seen the look on your face!” she exclaimed, holding her stomach while laughing.

You smirked, ready for verbal payback. “And you are really eager to ride me,” her laughter stopped, her face turned red and you, satisfied with your work, grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom to change.

Luckily, you didn’t get too drunk that night and by the morning Sam had no idea Tara spent the night anywhere but in her bed. Though she, truthfully, crashed at your place for the night. You, of course, took the couch. And just thinking about sleeping on the couch made you frown. As that was what you’ve been doing for the past two weeks and your body was starting to get stiff, because that thing was not meant to be used for sleeping for extended periods of time.

You couldn’t say you regretted it though. You just couldn’t wait to get a new bed.

~X~

If there was one thing Tara learnt to appreciate about you, it was how predictable you were with her. Come hell or high water she could count on you to argue with her just because you found it fun to debate about things. And as months passed you went from annoying classmate always playing a devil’s advocate and arguing with her on everything, to an actually pleasant company. Most of the times. Sometimes.

She felt like she could trust you. She felt like she could fall for you and not regret it.0

What she didn’t expect was genuine compassion from you. And it happened so abruptly, so out of nowhere, she couldn’t even see it coming.

The two of you met at the front doors as you usually did for the few weeks prior to that day. And the floors were wet, just recently cleaned, but she was so out of it since she was accidentally reminded of Amber that she didn’t notice and she slipped, falling backwards. She wasn’t sure if she released any sounds, but the next moment you were behind her, holding her firmly, one of your hands on her side, the other around her shoulders, with the back of her head leaning on your chest. You were holding her, making sure you’d take the worst of the fall if you still went down, if you didn’t manage to stand firmly enough on the slippery floor.

“I got you,” you told her, clearly concerned, and Tara just leaned against you, barely supporting her weight.

“Can I trust you?” she asked, almost out of breath.

You nodded, your eyes filled with conviction. You weren’t messing around, you weren’t going to argue, you were there, one hundred percent. “I’m here for you, anytime,” you assured her and she grabbed onto your hand, still on her side, accidentally covering one of her stab wounds, and Tara, surprisingly felt completely safe, protected.

“Skip class with me?” she asked and you nodded, helping her regain her balance and the class was soon forgotten. She took you to your place, since Sam was still at home and your place was closer anyway.

You didn’t say one word, but you remained close to her, your hands brushing against one another as you walked and when you went into your apartment you sat down right next to her. Your presence was comforting, though at this point she wasn’t surprised by that.

Tara took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she wanted to do. She wanted to let you in, to fully trust you, to introduce you to her friends and Sam. “Do you know what happened in Woodsboro?” she began and your eyes widened, and that was all she needed to know as she began talking. She poured it all out, Sam, Amber, deaths of her dear friends, the betrayal, coming to New York, and what happened with Richie’s family, she told you everything. Every single feeling she had, things she found difficult to talk about with her therapist, or even with Sam, it just all burst out, like whatever contained those feelings suddenly burst and cracked, letting it all out.

And you remained silent, though you hugged her, tight and gentle at the same time. And it felt so good she climbed onto your lap, clutching at the back of your shirt, clinging to you as hard as she could. You didn’t complain, you just wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, your hands trembling slightly in barely concealed anger. Hearing you gritting your teeth, feeling your fingers twitching, and your body just barely relaxing when her warmth and weight, and voice right in your ear would remind you that she was, in fact, still here, it all felt good to her.

It felt like she was, at least a tiny bit, being released from the horrors she went through.

Though she still didn’t introduce you to others, it took nearly four months for that to happen, and by then, well, a lot of things happened.

~X~

You figured enough time passed that you could move away from your spot and leave the conversation you were having with Chad. “Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you purposely pointed toward the bathroom and hopped to your feet. You went into the hall, and making sure no one was behind you, just went the opposite way and snuck into Tara’s room.

She turned on her bed and smiled, reaching out for you as you knelt on her bed and kissed her soft lips. Damn, you wished you could do this freely, just kiss her whenever you wanted, but you understood her friends might not be ready to accept you as Tara’s girlfriend, and not just classmate she loved bickering with. You licked her lips, just lightly teasing her as she hugged you, her fingers already gently massaging the back of your head.

“I can’t believe the bickering is still working,” you muttered between the kisses. Sure, you and Tara still enjoyed an occasional debate here and there, but you stopped bickering almost a year ago! And the bickering still worked on her friends! And you’ve been sneaking behind their back, sneaking in kisses all over Tara’s apartment. In the kitchen, bathroom if you were really desperate, or the hall if you were feeling rather bold, but for the most part it was in her room, just like this. Tara would storm into her room, you’d wait, and go after her, sneaking a quick make-out session in before you’d come back from wherever you were.

Things were a bit different this time around, as Tara kissed you harder than before, pushing you until your positions were switched and she was straddling you. She grabbed onto your collar, pushing it to the side so she could kiss the spot where your neck and shoulder met, and, though a bit risky, she decided to leave a mark, biting the spot and sucking as you grabbed onto her hips to steady yourself.

“Tara,” you sat up, you both knew you didn’t have much time. “We shouldn’t risk it,” you told her, but you still pulled her in for another kiss, your tongues meeting as her hands gripped your shoulders.

“Just a bit more, I miss this,” she admitted, and you missed it too, and it was worth getting caught to you, but you weren’t completely sure it was worth it to Tara.

In the end, you just said screw it and kissed along her jaw, gradually going lower until your lips met her neck.

“Remember how flustered you got when I kissed you for the first time?” Tara asked out of blue, sighing and holding your head close to her neck. Well, maybe it wasn’t completely out of blue, next week would be a year since you got together.

“You were so damn smug about it,” you grumbled, though you still kissed the side of Tara’s neck, paying extra attention to the more sensitive spots, while, much to your annoyance, making sure you didn’t leave marks anywhere visible.

“Mhm, you deserve it for making me work for it,” she grinned, her hold on you growing stronger as she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.

You pulled back and looked her in the eyes and then at her lips, inviting, beautiful. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman you ever saw, so no, Tara wasn’t pretty. She was much, much more than that. And you kissed her, pouring all of your passion and love for her into the kiss, deepening it as Tara moaned. The feeling of her body pressed against you made you wish you could just stop hiding from her friends and Sam.

And then four very loud gasps, followed by yelps and doors slamming against the wall and then bodies stumbling onto the floor on a pile of limbs and everything else, with poor Chad underneath the three women broke you and Tara apart.

“Y-You two are-“ Mindy stuttered, and you had to admit you enjoyed the professional expert being surprised.

“Together? Yes,” you shrugged, the cat was out of the bag, and you couldn’t exactly say you were arguing telepathically and needed to have your tongue deep inside Tara’s mouth to do so.

The four of them scrambled to their feet and just looked at you and Tara like nothing ever surprised them as much as this.

Eventually, Anika got over her surprise and offered an open palm to Mindy and Chad. “Pay up, I guessed it right,” Anika demanded from them.

The twins groaned and you and Tara watched incredulously as they each pulled out twenty bucks and gave them to Anika. But nothing, not twins and Anika betting on whether you and Tara were together, not their surprised faces, not your secret being revealed, nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to Sam’s expression. She looked like someone completely shattered her brain.

“Sam?” Tara tried calling her sister, just to snap her out of the stupor.

“You two… for how long?” Sam managed to utter.

“Uh, before you guys even met me,” you admitted sheepishly, and nudged Tara to get off your lap, but she was comfortable and very few things could get Tara off your lap, especially now that you two got caught.

Not that you minded, you loved when she was on your lap, but her sister might get a heart attack if this continues, and you didn’t want Sam to die.

Sam nodded, she nodded several times, humming to herself before she just walked out of Tara’s room. “She’ll get used to it,” Tara shrugged as Sam gave you two a thumbs up.

Sam took a deep, rather audible breath and came back, pointing right at you. “Don’t break Tara’s heart,” she warned with her best glare, which was actually intimidating.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Tara reassured her before you could answer, and frankly, you loved how quickly she said that. “We kinda broke her bed back at her place, so… not saying that won’t happen ever again,” she chuckled sheepishly as your eyes widened and you all turned to Tara. Well, you did break the bed, but she did not need to tell them that.

Sam opened her mouth, but then closed it as Tara shrugged, acting like she was completely innocent in that case of property damage.

“I think we might have broken Sam,” Tara told you, clearly surprised that that was even a possibility, and she glanced at the rest of your friends and then gestured at the doors.

“Right! Got it!” they scampered outside as you and Tara chuckled, and just like that you were alone once more.

“I love you, you know,” you said as you kissed her cheek and she just grinned.

“I know,” she smirked, barely holding her laughter back as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, come the fuck on!” you groaned, dropping down onto the bed and pulling Tara on top of you.

Tara laughed like she just heard the best joke ever. Well, she did love teasing you. “I love you too,” she said as her laughter subsided and she kissed you on the lips.

Masterlist / Side story / Smut for this story

#tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader #perunrequests

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carbon-dating-everything · 8 days ago

Note

Could I perhaps ask for some cuddles from Chance? I think it'd be cute if the reader helped him relax after finding him doing some pretty intense campaign planning! Also, he seems like he gives really good hugs. Bonus if he gets flustered about it, heehoo :3

CHANCE YAYYY I LOVE THIS MAN... i hope you don’t mind, but i made this a mix of headcanon and ficlet (putting the first part into practice, hehe)! enjoy :DD

citadel of comfort

pairing: chance x gender neutral reader

content warnings: none

word count: 1.3 k (568 headcanons, 723 ficlet)

Chance tends to be more of a passive snuggler than a thoroughly active one, but this doesn’t mean he’s not affectionate - he’s just usually got his head in the game (the G&G game, that is)!

Your favorite ways to cuddle during the daytime tend to be positions where you can easily move into a cuddle session; ones you particularly enjoy are when one person supports the other, such as you laying your head on his shoulder and draping the rest of your body over his lap, or him resting your head on your lap. You often alternate who supports who. It allows for conversation to be had easily, and is a nice way that you can fit yourselves together - but at the same time, it allows you to show each other vulnerability, a way of saying I’ve got you without words.

At nighttime, a preferred way you like to cuddle is one of you hugging the other halfway down their chest, head tucked into the crook of their arm. It takes a while to fully get him out of Chronicler mode when during this, but it’s not something that’s an ordeal - rather, there’s a gradual shift from him gently tracing the lines of a new map he’s drafted on your skin to simply caressing you.

Location-wise, it can really be anywhere - though the bed is the most obvious option, you’ve often found that you spend just as much time on the couch or the rug, wherever it just feels right (and for days on which it’s needed, both of you appreciate you having the foresight to plan multiple comfortable spaces around the house for conveniency’s sake).

If there’s enough around, I think that Chance would really enjoy having a lot of pillows and blankets to nest in - it makes it feel homey to him, and he likes the feeling of the weight, the same as how he enjoys wearing his cloak. Maybe better yet, a blanket or a pillow fort - not only is it super comfortable and welcoming, it’s a perfect place to have your own little stories to tell in!

He does tend to naturally steal all the blankets away from you, although it’s not like you mind too much - you can always use him as a pillow anytime. Though it makes it fairly warm to cuddle, and Chance himself doesn’t run the coolest, it’s a comforting feeling. (Although you make a note to tell Hector to turn up the AC during the summer months.)

Can talk to you about anything, from outlining his massive campaign plans to simpler stories like Teddy’s. His wide array of voices always makes it entertaining, and it’s sometimes even hard to go to sleep because you’re so invested in what comes next!

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking (and almost certainly it’s because this author fidgets a lot with their hands), but I think a thing he does unconsciously is gravitate towards your hands a lot: interlacing your fingers, running a thumb over your knuckles the same way you’d absentmindedly run your fingers over his edges when in his regular D20 form. It’s a special sort of intimate connection - a way for your everyday affectations to be reciprocated when he can. (You did tease him about it when you realised it felt familiar, and he immediately turned red, the dork that he is.)

Sometimes, during a particularly intense session of G&G, Chance will get really into it. It’s one of the things you love most about him - it’s how you first got together, after all! - but it can take a lot out of him, and you’ve caught him staying up much too late much too many times lately.

This time is one of those; from the doorway, you watch as his glasses glint with passion in the light of the desk lamp, chuckling to himself as he creates another boss enemy or magical item, not registering your presence at all. It’s passionate, and incredibly hot. But you also see the way he’s getting tired in the ways that his shoulders slump and he restarts the same miniature twice, his eyes having unfocused and brushed red paint all over its face instead.

You know there’s no way you’d be able to drag him up to the bed in this state; he’d protest, only to then fall asleep face first onto the desk surface, which would no doubt be more uncomfortable for him.

You’re suddenly struck by an idea and begin going to talk to a few other dateables and assemble your plan. —— ‘Really, I’m fine. I just need five more minutes. There’s just a few more touches I need to make-‘

‘I know, Chance, I know,’ you say lovingly, tugging him along to the living room. ‘Why don’t you just come and see what’s over here?’

He stops in the entryway, as if he can’t believe his eyes. When he turns to you, from the look on his face is the same as when you agreed to play through a campaign with him the first time. ‘You made a pillow fort?’

‘Technically, it’s the official “Citadel of Comfort”, fortified with only the purest grade couch cushions, pillows, and blankets,’ you state with pride. ‘I even gave it a little moat with a drawbridge, although it’s a welcome mat and easily the most uncomfortable bit of it. The rest is better, I promise.’

‘Is all of this for me?’ You nod, and he wavers. ‘Well, I guess I can stay for a little while…’

Giggling, the two of you crawl into the fort and spread yourselves out on the mountain of pillows you placed at the back, assuming a position familiar to both of you: you tucked underneath his arm, him stretched out and weighed down with a mass of blankets around him as if in his own little fortress. You ask him if he wants to tell you what he was working on, and he beams like all the rays of the sun, launching into it immediately with enthusiasm.

You look at him. Under the canopy, the light is dim, and the blanket you’d chosen for it reflects the softness in his expression, his eyes staring upwards as he enthuses about the new challenges he planned for his players in the upcoming adventure. You hum along; it’s always nice to see him in his element, and you know his passion is unfettered by his sleep until he’s able to recount everything. —— Eventually, he drifts into silence, and you can feel a change in the way his touches are farther drawn apart, imprecise; his breath fans over your skin, a mechanism slowed to a halt.

‘You didn’t have to,’ he says at last.

‘I know. I wanted to, though.’ You move your head next to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. ‘You’d do the same for me.’

‘Mm.’ Absentmindedly, he runs his fingers over your knuckles, a gesture it seems like he’s made many times over; it’s strikingly similar to the way you roll his die form between your fingers during your work, a comforting action when you have nothing to do with your hands.

‘You’re doing it again, you know,’ you tease lightly.

He flushes, the blush spreading like wine to the tips of his ears. ‘Am I? I hadn’t noticed,’ he laughs sheepishly. ‘Force of habit, I guess. I’m so used to you doing the same to me, it must have carried over somehow.’

‘I like it, though,’ you say. ‘It’s cute. You’re my lucky die, and I’m yours - isn’t that nice?’

He lifts your arm, presses a kiss to it, and envelops you even tighter in his arms, protecting you. ‘It’s perfect.’

a/n: i played my first actual session of dnd today and i can definitely get the hype - i tried to write this pretty soon after :)) hope you enjoyed!!

#date everything #date everything x reader #chance x reader #chance date everything x reader #x reader

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aealzx · 1 year ago

Text

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Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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“So… why did you volunteer yourself?” Stephanie asked once the other three had left, watching Jason move to sit on the floor and lean against the wall next to Jazz while Leslie gave her a check up as well.

“...In case any of the kids were up for ungluing themselves from each other long enough to take a shower,” Jason responded as though it were obvious. He actually still had questions he wanted to ask, but the offer for a shower was still an option.

“Wait, you have a shower here?” Tucker’s interest was immediately piqued, head snapping over to look at Jason.

“Dibs,” Sam spoke quickly, raising her hand halfway once more.

The claim for the first shower caused Tucker to gasp, head snapping over to stare at his friend in utter betrayal. “SAM! How could you!” he gaped.

Sam just met his gaze with a neutral stare, not lowering her hand. “Dibs,” she repeated, earning a snicker from Stephanie. None of them could blame the kids for wanting a proper shower, it wasn’t like there had been running water in the abandoned apartment complex they’d been staying in. The entire plate of burritos Stephanie had brought in was also already gone, so they also knew the kids were ready for actual meals again.

“Okay, let me just get the blinds pulled over the windows outside this room, and then I’ll come back to get you for a shower,” Stephanie agreed, amused, but also looked over to Jazz to double check. “If that’s alright with you. I don’t think you’d all fit in there, and I’d rather not move Danny.”

The idea of them being out of sight made Jazz anxious, but she could also understand their want for a good shower. She wanted one too. Baby wipes and rain water could only do so much for them trying to keep everything clean. Danny may have been in some sort of stasis, but they’d still tried to keep the environment around him clean considering he had open wounds. Everyone that was there was being a lot nicer than she first thought they would be though, the unmet expectations were making it hard for her to react quickly. It wasn’t that they made her think they were trying to get them to let their guard down. Jason and Damian had been way too blunt for her to believe that they were trying to be manipulative. Or if they were, they really sucked at it. It was just too unexpected right then. “...Okay,” Jazz agreed, wincing slightly as Leslie dabbed an alcohol swab on a small cut on her arm.

“Yessss,” Sam cheered, earning a small laugh from Danielle as Stephanie left the room to get the windows covered. This was one safehouse that they could relocate if needed, but would rather not have to do so if they could help it. So anything they could do to keep their guests from knowing where it was located was necessary.

And since they had somewhat brought up the topic of reestablishing rules and boundaries, Jazz looked over to Danielle to make sure she understood what was expected before an incident came up. “Dani, can you stay in your human form unless someone needs protection? And stay visible, don’t phase through anything, and no overshadowing. Don’t give them a reason to kick us out by snooping, okay?”

Danielle hadn’t been expecting to essentially be told she was grounded to her room, but a room other than her own, and let out an annoyed groan. “Uuuuugh, fiiine,” she dragged out, shifting forms again and sagging in theatrics. “Just don’t let me get bored,” she pushed, reminding them that Dick had loosely promised to bring them things, and then also added for good measure, “And I’m only going to behave as long as you guys actually help Danny. Got it?”

It was a fair enough trade, and Cass gave a simple thumbs up at the demand. It was too soon to tell how much help they would be for Danny, but they were still a much better resource than being homeless and broke. The Phantom kids seemed to be willing to at least try to let them help at least.

“I think we have some cards somewhere around here. Maybe a board game or two. If not we’ll bring some with the food,” Jason commented, not wanting the kids to get too bored either. There were all kinds of messes caused simply because a teenager was looking for entertainment. And maybe playing some games with them would help them loosen up.

“Do you have any comics?” Danielle then asked. The games sounded promising, but comics were always nice too for when she had no one to play with.

“...We’ll see,” Jason half agreed, grinning slightly. At least the youngest knew what she liked.

“I’ll take it,” Danielle hummed, leaning back on both hands and kicking her legs slightly as Stephanie returned to beckon Sam to follow her.

“Don’t steal all the hot water!” Tucker called after them as they left the room, despair saturating his tone.

“That’s why I’m going first. You’re the one that takes forever,” Sam retorted, waving her hand dismissively without turning back. It earned a few more snickers before the group left behind settled into a semi uncertain quiet, both from exhaustion and simply not knowing what to talk about with the particular set of people there. The only one who made comments was Leslie, and it was only simple commands to support her checkups.

Eventually Leslie finished making notes on the tablet she had, and turned to look at Jason and Cass. “Aside from Danny the rest of them don’t look too bad. The showers were definitely a good idea, it’ll help clean all the cuts they have. But otherwise get them a good meal and some rest and they should be fine.”

“Good to hear,” Jason acknowledged, planning on letting Bruce and the rest of the team manage the food planning and check in schedule for Leslie. “Just send everything to Oracle. Do you need an escort?”

“No, I’ll manage,” Leslie dismissed, tapping on the tablet to send all the files to Barbara. “I’ll be back after dinner to check on the boy again. Call me sooner if necessary,” she bid, picking her bag up and leaving the room to head back to address other patients that needed her attention.

A few moments after Leslie was gone, Stephanie and Sam returned with the latter wearing a clean pair of spare clothes that had been stashed there. Stephanie seemed to be quite happy about something too, and when Jason saw the shirt Sam was wearing he understood why immediately. That was an old shirt, being memorabilia from Stephanie and Cass’s shared BatGirl uniform. But it was always fun to see fans. Though he did wonder if that was the case or if there was another reason.

“Cool shirt,” Tucker commented when he saw Sam. “What’s with the bat symbol?”

The question caused the three of Batman’s team to pause, Jason realizing he was about to get one of his questions answered. Did Tucker just not recognize the specific symbol? It wasn’t that obscure, he should at least recognize it as something related to Batman. Right?

“Not sure. It was the only black one, so I grabbed it,” Sam responded, tugging the shirt away from her enough to look down at the emblem again, momentarily forgetting what it looked like exactly.

Jason watched Stephanie and Cass’s expressions fall a little, and almost snorted.

“You don’t… know who that symbol is for?” Stephanie asked, sadness starting to creep into her voice at the revelation that Sam had only picked that shirt because it was black.

“Nope,” Sam confirmed, heading over to the stool she’d left before and sitting back down to dab at her hair with the towel. “Should I?”

It caused Stephanie to pause, and then give a shaky laugh, but Jason didn’t miss how Jazz’s gaze moved to look at the red symbol on his own chest, half hidden by his jacket. “N’no! I guess not. It’s a pretty old shirt anyway. No one has seen BatGirl for a while now anyway.” Stephanie shakily dismissed, tucking her disappointment away for later when she could properly express it.

“BatGirl?” Sam repeated, getting a wry grin. “Is there a BatBoy too?”

Another exchange of looks between Cass and Stephanie. Was that a joke? “No. Just Batman and Batwoman,” she answered, deciding to err on the side of Sam being serious.

“Well, there is, but BatBoy never worked with the other bats,” Jason pointed out, amusement saturating his voice.

“That name was from a baseball bat though, not a bat bat,” Stephanie argued.

Jason shrugged at the distinction, but wasn’t able to comment further before Tucker spoke up again. “Okay. So who’s Batman again?”

The three team members stopped to stare at Tucker, having to take a moment to register if he was putting on an act or not. When it was determined he was either impossibly good at pretending, or actually earnest in his question, Jason barked a laugh while Staphanie’s eye twitched. “You’ve been on Gotham for two months, been to the dark net, and are still asking who Batman is?” Jason asked, incredulous.

“What makes you think I was on the darknet?” Tucker defended quickly.

“Where else do people even hear about Lazarus water?” Jason retorted just as fast.

Tucker’s mouth pursed as his eyes scrunched, realizing he wasn’t going to get his way out of that one. “............ Okay,” he relented. Fair point. Good game. “So are we talking about an actual person, or the folktale boogeyman? Because the internet sources aren’t clear on that.”

Jason wheezed slightly at the comparison, filing that away in his mental box of topics to tease Bruce with.

“He’s the one we’re working with to help Danny,” Cass answered this time, feeling just a little miffed after the mutual disappointment she had suffered with Stephanie. Once again Jazz’s eyes flicked to Jason’s symbol, this time in understanding.

The comment caused another pause as Tucker realized he probably shouldn’t make fun of this guy. “...Alright. Cool cool. That answers a lot,” he rambled, hoping his comments didn’t affect the kind of help they were going to receive. “I think I’ll go take that shower now,” he excused, jerking to his feet and waiting momentarily for Stephanie to escort him out of the room.

“I have to ask now,” Jason started once they were out of sight, using this as a way to get another one of his questions in that he’d stayed around in the first place to try and get answered. “Where are you kids from to think Batman was a fairytale?”

He didn’t think that they would take the question well, considering how secretive they were being about other things. But to his pleasure the other two girls just looked at Jazz, who seemed to have relaxed a little more from the more easy going conversations. “...Amity Park,” she answered, watching to see if Jason, or more specifically Cass since she could see at least part of her face, had any sign of recognition before adding, “It’s in Illinois.”

That was unexpected. “That’s quite a ways away,” Jason commented. He’d never heard of Amity Park, but Illinois was definitely not a ‘took a wrong turn at the gas station’ ways away.

“How did you end up in Gotham?” Cass asked now, concern pinching her brows.

The three girls fell silent, but this time it was easy to tell that it wasn’t out of reluctance to share information. The looks they gave each other were more seeking to see if either of them had an answer rather than if they should say it. And Cass and Jason could also see some painful memories hidden in their expressions.

“Dunno,” Danielle finally admitted with a shrug. “We were fighting, then stuff blew up, and next thing we knew we were here.”

Oh, that didn’t sound good. Jason had been suspecting that the event that had led them to Gotham had been what had put Danny in the state he was, but stuff blowing up and relocating people was never a good thing. That was definitely something that was going to be relayed back to the others, and he really hoped they didn’t have to get people outside of their usual team involved.

“My ID and debit card don’t work here either,” Jazz added, sounding a little bitter and some of the prolonged stress starting to resurface. “Everytime we tried to buy something they told me my card was declined. And when I found a bank that happened to have the same name as the one I’m using, they told me my ID was fake.”

“...So you started stealing to get what you needed,” Jason connected. They were good kids in a bad situation. That was all. Jazz didn’t answer, though it didn’t seem to be because she was reluctant to admit they were stealing. She just seemed concerned about something else. “Don’t worry, we won’t turn you in. We usually deal with people who are much worse,” he assured as a subtle prod to get her to reveal what she was worried about.

Jazz gave a mirthless noise of amusement. “...What are you? Some kind of secret government street sweepers?” she asked. It was phrased as a sarcastic jab, but both Cass and Jason heard the secrets that were being hinted at.

Jason just barked a laugh. “Hardly. We’re independent. Sometimes we work with the police, but most of the time they’re pissed off at us too. Can’t imagine wanting to touch anything government related either. I don’t think they’d like me.”

There was a hesitant release in part of what had the girl’s tense, and Cass couldn’t help resting her hand on Danielle’s shoulder. “You are all safe with us,” she assured shortly. She could see it in the way they behaved during this topic. It wasn’t that they were suspicious of conspiracy theories or something similar. They disliked non-public government organizations because of personal experience. They had been hurt by them before.

The girls didn’t respond verbally, but Cass could see the change in their demeanor. They were a little less wary, and a little more hopeful. But that was enough interrogation for now. She knew her team would have plenty to work with from what they already had, and there was no need to stress the kids out further. So now it was on to a batter topic, and Cass took out her phone. “What foods do you like? We will have them prepared for dinner,” she asked, deliberately making her own demeanor more at ease to facilitate a response.

“Ugh, I could definitely go for some roasted butternut squash,” Sam responded almost immediately, sagging slightly on the stool.

“Oo oo! Can I get fried chicken? How much are we allowed to have? Can I have like five chickens?” Danielle asked, raising her hand high and bouncing on the table slightly.

“High metabolism?” Jason asked, just to double check she wasn’t just exaggerating and would actually eat the food if they brought it.

“Mhmm. I bet I could eat way more than you could,” Danielle nodded with a slight challenge.

“I bet you could,” Jason accepted with a chuckle, not even going to bother taking her up on that challenge.

“And the rest?” Cass prompted, typing a message to Alfred on her phone.

“...I’m okay with most anything,” Jazz answered when they looked her way, her hand straying to Danny’s hand again as she couldn’t help thinking of his favorite sandwich.

“Tucker will eat anything meat,” Sam provided for their remaining friend. She had already stolen the first shower from him, she could be nice and make sure he got something nice to eat.

“Got all that?” Jason asked Cass, glad to have a happier note for the kids to focus on now. After Cass gave a thumbs up, Jason shifted to stand again, raising his hands over his head in a mild stretch. “Good. Then let’s see if I can find those cards,” he announced, heading for the door.

“No poker,” Cass spoke up quickly, narrowing her eyes Jason’s way.

“I’m not going to play poker with a bunch of teenagers,” Jason huffed, mildly offended that was the first thing Cass would think of. There were so many other games to play with face cards anyway. And hopefully it would be enough to keep the kids occupied at least until dinner. And while they were on house arrest duty hopefully the others would figure out where these kids had come from, and how to help them. He could take some time while looking for the cards to send his own report to the others at least. Explosion relocation, anti government organization sentiments, non usable ID and debit card. It was starting to sound like they weren’t actually from the United States at all. But knowing their luck, it wasn’t just a case of country hopping. Hopefully they weren’t from a completely different time period or something. That always made things messy. Hopefully this Amity Park was just a tiny village in Illinois that was out of touch with the world compared to a big city like Gotham, and these kids were just country bumpkins that would be easy to get shipped off back home once they were all better.

There was no cost for hoping for an easy solution, even if Jason knew it wasn’t going to happen.

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This is my first time drawing either of these girls X'D Also I hope I got the right symbol for the shirt. I'm new and there's so many symbols

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, @fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics, @honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl

#my art #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #phantom rogues #writing #long post #fanfic

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genericpuff · 2 months ago

Note

So I guess Daily Pass is going away and instead ads will take it's place. Saw that it was a new update on Webtoons. Thoughts?

Just ran to check and I'll be damned, you right-

(don't come into my inbox asking me about this webtoon, i just clicked the first daily pass series i could find lmao)

----

I have mixed feelings about this honestly, on the one hand the DailyPass system is dumb af in its implementation, it annoys the piss out of people when they can't just binge a completed series all the way through (esp when that's how these series are often marketed) and it's always been unnecessarily complicated.

But seeing as how they've gutted DailyPass but still have it set up through the other options... welp, this is probably gonna piss people off for obvious reasons, because now there's no daily freebie option.

Frankly I think DailyPass was a good idea but just poorly implemented, as a lot of series didn't offer up bulk alternatives like purchasing a series outright. That said, that option is available for a lot of DP series now, so if anything, this at least looks like Webtoons has been noticing all the feedback from its users and are starting to shift more towards what people were hoping for?

There are definitely readers who will complain esp when it comes to not being able to read for free, but frankly, the expense of accessing these series for free is as little as sitting through an ad, and as much as a dollar per episode. I can't very well sit here and preach about how creators deserve to be paid fairly for their work and then throw a fit when freebie options are reduced/removed altogether. Originals was always meant to be for the comics that had potential to generate profit, so this just seems like a step back towards that business model and away from the blurred - sometimes even indistinguishable - line that separated it from Canvas, which in and of itself has always been the go-to place for free, indie works.

This has been foreshadowed for a while now, Webtoons is clearly realizing how up shit creek they are after spending years building their platform on freebie content - now they have to pay out not only their private core investors, but their public investors too, so they're gonna be looking for ways to make money by any means necessary. Whether or not this will work though remains to be seen, as god knows when people are used to getting webcomic content for free, they'll find it elsewhere.

From a business perspective, I'm not necessarily shocked by their decision or even condemning it - capitalism's gonna capitalism, and freebie digital content like webcomics alone have never exactly been a consistent business model capable of generating millions like film or television.

From a reader perspective... it's one less option for reading, but it was an option that was frankly just as annoying and restrictive as AdPass and most of all, didn't benefit the creators who had spent upwards of years creating the content that readers enjoy.

How this actually pans out in the long run, guess we'll have to wait and see. I have practically no horse in this race anymore as there are maybe 4 comics total that I still read on Webtoons, and only two of them are Originals. It's definitely very telling (and frankly hilarious imo) how much Webtoons is now trying to backpedal on their own decisions over the course of the last decade - decisions that made them what they are today - because they realized none of those decisions were benefiting their bottom line.

Welcome to the world of webcomics, Webtoons - it's never been a capitalist's game.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #webtoon critical

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king-candybug-backup · 3 days ago

Text

Kill Switch: Part Nineteen

Pleasantly surprised, she started to pass along their thanks, but then, Vanellope paused. Taking notice of how intently Sour Bill had been glancing at King Candy, something akin to worry written on his face, almost as though he were trying to gauge whether the ex-ruler was still alive or not. King Candy, on the other hand, returned none of his looks. But, he didn’t seem overly bothered by the sourball’s presence… not that it was particularly easy to tell what did or didn’t bother him at this point. Deciding to take a risk, Vanellope made an offer to Sour Bill. “You can hang out with us too, if ya want. There’s lots of pizza and TV to go around!” Making sure to give him an out if needed, Vanellope was quick to add, “Y’know, unless you got other chores to get back to.” Sour Bill was the one to pause this time, weighing his options. When King Candy had briefly glanced his way for once, it was with eyes full of complete indifference. None of the violent rage that’d been present in his last encounter with the Cy-bug. Frankly, with the way he’d been behaving lately, it was almost like anger had been entirely removed from his repertoire. Which, to be honest, only further pressed Sour Bill’s concerns. But, with there clearly being no sign of immediate danger, the sourball eventually agreed with a monotone “Mmkay,” joining them near the TV.

Read the full chapter on AO3!

YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!!! FAN ART LOVING TIME!!!!!!!! <333

First off we have this HILARIOUS video of Sour Bill and KCB by @maguiecron that actually fits this chapter pretty well! 😂

Then we have THIS huge mood that poor KCB has been att since pretty much chapter 14 by @starryside-1 LMAOO

Then there is this super awesome + dramatic lyric art by @critifull of KCB and Vanellope!

And of course some more epic fiery Sinistar fan art by @d1ng-d0ng-ditch!

And next up is some more neat "Kill Switch if Buttons was there" art by @buttonback! And on the note of including OCs, here's some adorable art of KCB and Vanellope with @klutzytheclown's OC!

Then there's this big collage of AU Turbos by @lazymonth of which they included my guy!

And finally we have THIS hilarious comic of Ralph and KCB bickering from chapter 3 by @mochacabbagefetus!

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH YOUR INCREDIBLE ART BRINGS ME SO MUCH JOY!!! 💖💖💖

#Wreck It Ralph #KillSwitch #KS Spoilers #Candybug #Vanellope #Sour Bill #Turbo #Turbo wir #vanellope von schweetz #King Candy #My Stuff #Text Post #Yeah yeah I know I was too lazy to draw the pizza or drinks whatever it's whatever 😂

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proseandpretrichor · 10 months ago

Text

Longing For You~ Spencer Reid

Summary: After noticing you share the same bus route, Spencer can't help but want to know more about you Warnings: None

Spencer had memorized your entire routine. Not in a creepy stalker way, he honestly couldn’t help it, your existence shone so bright it rendered him in captivation without you really even trying.

The first Monday he saw you, he smelled your perfume first. Vanilla with some hints of coffee and cinnamon, warm and comforting, like a hug from fall itself. You came to stand in front of where he sat, there being no room in the crowded bus, leaving you with the only option of invading his presence with yours. Facing him so that you could look out the window, the only words you had since spoken to him were a quick, “Sorry!” before turning your attention to the contents outside.

He didn’t anticipate what your voice would have sounded like but it matched you perfectly, soft, warm, melodic and lilting. Reminding him of the wind-chimes, Garcia cluttered her front porch with.

He wouldn’t have given anything and everything the universe desired of him to hear it again, to hear it every moment he was given on this earth.

He took the advantage of your distraction to commit your appearance to memory. You were much shorter than him. While he was tall and lanky, you were soft and curvy, every part of your body well loved. Shiny hair tumbling to kiss your shoulders creating a halo-like frame around your face. The hue of your hair saturating the in color your eyes, which sparkled from the wide-framed glasses perched on your nose dotted with freckles that splayed out reaching out till your cheekbones. Your full cheeks tinted pink from your exertion to reach the bus. Your lips were a modest plump, your fuller bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you surveyed the scenes they passed.

That day you wore a simple black dress. Thin straps meeting the v-line that plummeted to your cleavage. The fabric clinging to your soft curves until your hips then fell loosely till your mid-thighs. Artistically woven jewelry making home in the open space of your chest as though pointed to the art below the garments. An oversized sage green sweater covered your exposed shoulders and trailed down your arms covering your ring clad fingers which clasped your leather satchel matching his.

Your black boot clad feet tip tapped on the bus floor as you mouthed the lyrics to the music flowing from the earbuds in your ears adorned with more jewelry he thought could possibly fit on someone’s ears.

It was then that he noticed an array of tattoos underneath your black stockings.

An open faced pomegranate, a fairy, a hummingbird, a lit lantern with some plants hanging from the frame, a cracked antique looking mirror and a mosaic looking window were only some of the art that he could see covering your lower thighs and upper calves. Spencer was never particularly drawn to tattoos before, but there was something so mesmerizing and intriguing about the ink plastered on your skin. Why these drawings, what did they mean to you, what were their stories, did you have any others he couldn’t see.

The chirping sound of someone signaling the driver to stop the bus interrupted his thoughts and before he could snap out of his trance you were gone.

The next day, Spencer vibrated with anticipation as the bus hurled towards the stop he hoped you would be at. Sure enough, the open doors wafted your perfume towards him as he glanced up from his shoes and saw you walking towards him as you boarded the bus.

This Tuesday was rainy, foggy, humid, and ominous. While Spencer loved the possibility these kinds of days brought, most of society didn’t. And much to his delight, this meant the bus wasn’t as crowded as the previous day, allowing you to perch yourself in the seat across from him.

The open space allowed you to open your satchel and bring out your book which seemed to delight you. You wiggled in your seat as you opened the very worn copy, cramming the bookmark, annotation tabs and pencil in your hand as you placed the book on your thighs.

Spencer couldn’t help but stare at you in awe as you lost yourself in the pages in the way he’s only seen in himself. Every now and then you would pause, look up and out at the window above him, adjust your glasses, underline a particular sentence or two and tab the page before losing yourself in the plot once more.

He couldn’t help but feel pieces of his soul chip off of his being and float over to you every time you hummed a note in the song you was listening to or pulled a berry glossed lip into your teeth.

Spencer knew in his very genius logical mind that love at first sight couldn't possibly be plausible. While love at first sight could very well be an intense initial attraction, one couldn’t simply be in love or hold the intense passion of love with nothing but a singular glance of a person.

But in that moment, Spencer was willing to risk it all, he was willing to step onto every stage he ever stood on and declare he wished to worship this one goddess for the rest of his life, however long he was blessed with. And if he was granted too little time on this earth, he would beg on his knees to a god he didn’t believe in to have just one more minute looking at you.

Over the coming weeks, Spencer committed any little detail of you to memory. An unsleeved coffee cup told him the secret of your coffee order- a hot/iced dirty chai extra chai and a shot of caramel. The temperature of your beverage depends on the weather that day.

He figured out your favorite color as your glasses, phone case, and many of your articles of clothing were various shades of the same color.

A flash of your work badge allowed him to notice your place of work- a local university in the city of Quanitico which a quick shameful google search he made as soon as he got to work told him you were the lead analyst and book curator for the library at the school.

He joined Instagram just to scroll through your posts and stories which included snapshots of the books you read - a blend of the classics, fantasy, and romance being the most frequent genres you enjoyed, song lyrics that spoke to you, and what you called photo dumps of random candids of you and things you enjoyed throughout your weeks.

He learned you had a rescue pitbull named Galadriel which you affectionately called Gala from your posts and phone lockscreen.

He learned you graduated from Harvard from the only swag sweatshirt you seemed to own since unlike all of the clothes he had seen you wear this one was faded and worn and a quick inquiry from an acquaintance who raved on and on about the sweet, dedicated, and smart nature of their old student.

After three months of shared bus routes, he was totally enamored with you. You were his last thought before he went to bed wondering how you would do your hair or what you would wear the next morning and the first thought he mustered when he woke up a ghostly waft of your perfume fueling him to start the day just to see her.

He longed to hold you in his arms, to bury his head in your neck, card his fingers through your soft tresses and listen to your every word with a baited breath. But no matter how much he longed and struggled to gain the confidence to just try and approach you, he couldn’t enter your bubble for fear of you finding him uninteresting.

It was 3:37 on a Wednesday afternoon as Spencer sat down in his usual seat. He and the team had just wrapped up a case when he decided he would take the after case paperwork home and do it after a little power nap and shower. As he leaned against the window clutching his go-bag in his lap, he didn’t notice the bus filling up with people leaving work, nor did he register the presence coming up towards him.

“Excuse me,” he turned to face the voice, “Do you mind if I sit here, there’s no more space otherwise I’d give you the row” You smiled softly at him gesturing at the seat beside him.

“No, of course! I don’t mind at all.” He said a little to hurriedly wincing at his own excitement.

With a soft thanks, You plopped in the seat, thigh brushing his due to the close proximity.

“Are you alright? I don’t mean to pry but you seem more exhausted today then you typically do. Not that you look tired normally, I didn’t mean that…” You stuttered, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I just haven’t seen you in a while and wanted to make sure everything was okay in your world.” Finishing with tinged cheeks you glanced at him before focusing on one of your rings.

“I am quite alright, thank you. Exhausted yes, but if anything relieved to be here. I was on a case.” Spencer told you, teeming with excitement that they were finally having a conversation, something he only ever thought would happen in his daydreams.

“A case?” What kind of case, if you don’t mind me asking.” You tilted your head fully invested in his next words.

Spencer couldn’t believe that not only did you notice he was gone, wanted to check on his well-being, but actually was invested in his life with a sliver of interest he had with you.

“You don’t have to share. I know I’m being nosy. Just tell me to butt-out if you want some peace and quiet.”

“No! He quickly shut you down.

“I don’t mind, I work for the FBI, I was on a case to stop a series of serial killings.”

You fully turned in her seat, mouth dropping in shock. “I thought they only had those jobs in movies! Do you have those boards with the pictures and the red strings, and have the family members make phone calls to the criminals?” your hands started waving and your eyes widening as the thoughts raced around in your head.

“Well I am a terrible liar so I don’t think I’m cut out to be an actor. He tried to joke that he was delighted to be rewarded with a little giggle from the girl beside him.

“We have boards, yes, no strings, though. We mainly put photos of preceding victims, evidence and geographical tools such as maps. Sometimes we entice the unsub with direct contact if they have the need to inselves into the investigation. Most of the time we don’t have any contact” He rambled but quickly trailed off taking a peek at you to see if you had any signs of boredom.

Instead you found you leaning towards him, chin resting your closed fist which you propped on your thigh. You nodded along pausing before asking, “Unsub? I’m unfamiliar with that term.”

“Unidentified subject,” Spencer supplied, “Since they are not convicted or charged with a crime, yet they are not technically criminals.”

“Ohhhhh, yeah that makes total sense. Duh” You said lightly smacking your forehead. Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle.

Spencer expected you to be content with the conversation and turn your attention elsewhere. Instead you continued asking him questions about the case, interjecting to ask his opinions on the unsubs behaviors or make little comments of your own. Just as Spencer anticipated, talking to you was easy even if they were discussing a rather heavy topic and you voiced very interesting points.

Before he knew it, the bus had arrived at your stop and Spencer's heart ached when you moved to get up.

“See you tomorrow… I’m sorry I don’t know your name!” you exclaimed, hands coming up to cup your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Spencer Reid.” He offered.

“Y/N Y/LN” you returned beaming up at him. “I would love to continue this conversation tomorrow if you're interested.” you asked, looking down nervously.

“I would like that.” Spencer returned.

You nodded and with a little bounce you turned and headed to the bus exit. As you stood behind the line of passengers exiting, you turned back and waved at Spencer before you disappeared off the bus.

Spencer held his hand up to wave back hoping you saw him return your gesture.

For the rest of his ride, he could not stop grinning. He willed the bus to drive to his apartment faster so he could climb into bed so the next time he opened his eyes he would only have to wait a little longer to hear your voice and smell that vanilla perfume.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds

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emmylksblog · 8 months ago

Text

LOVE RECIPE // HÉCTOR FORT

summary: you and héctor make a big mess trying to bake something edible. the result is obviously awful and you have no other option than stealing his precious shirt. based on this request.

genre: blurb, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: oh to be his gf and steal his oversized shirts... 😔

The plan had been simple: a quiet afternoon at Héctor’s apartment, trying out a new dessert recipe. But, as always, with you and Héctor, things didn’t go as planned.

The kitchen was a complete disaster—flour dusted across the counter, bits of melted chocolate smeared on the tiles, and your shirt was splattered with sticky batter.

Héctor wasn’t much better off, with dough stuck in his hair and a couple of your handprints stamped across his shirt from when you’d “playfully attacked” him.

“Does this count as baking, or just demolishing the kitchen?” you joked, leaning against the counter as you tried—unsuccessfully—to clean off your shirt.

“Definitely the second one,” Héctor replied with a teasing grin, running a hand through his hair only to find the dough still clinging to it.

After a few more minutes of laughter, you both decided it was time to throw your clothes in the wash before the mess dried. A while later, you found yourself rummaging through Héctor’s small wardrobe while he was in the living room, searching for the cake mold you’d both misplaced.

Your shirts were still spinning in the washer, and wearing your sticky, stained one again wasn’t an option. Without much thought, you grabbed one of Héctor’s shirts—a simple black one that had been folded neatly on a chair. It was soft, oversized, and the best part is that it smelled like him.

When you walked back into the kitchen, Héctor was crouched on the floor, picking something up. He glanced up as you entered, and froze for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe.

“Is that… my shirt?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

“And what if it is?” you replied with a mischievous smile, spinning slightly to show off the fit. “My clothes are still in the wash, and I wasn’t about to stay in that sticky vanilla mess.”

Héctor chuckled, leaning against the counter as he crossed his arms. “You look good in it. Too good, actually. Now I’m worried you’ll keep stealing my clothes.”

“Worried?” you teased, stepping closer to him. “I think you secretly love it.”

He let out a soft laugh, his expression shifting from teasing to something gentler as his hands found their way to your hips, pulling you a little closer. “You’re not wrong. It might even suit you better than it suits me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, smiling despite the flutter in your chest. “Then I guess I’m keeping it.”

“Fine,” Héctor murmured, leaning in just enough to brush his nose against yours. The world around you seemed to blur as his lips found yours in a slow, sweet kiss, his fingers lightly tracing your waist.

Just as you were catching your breath, Héctor smirked and grabbed a bit of melted chocolate that was still in the bowl nearby. Before you could react, he swiped his finger across it and dabbed it on your cheek.

“Perfect,” he said with a mischievous grin, admiring his work.

“Héctor!” you gasped, swatting at him as he laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

“You started it baby!” he teased, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Even as you rolled your eyes again, you couldn’t help but laugh, the warmth between you two filling the messy kitchen with something sweeter than anything you could’ve baked.

#hector fort #hector fort x reader #fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #hector fort x you #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #marc guiu #marc guiu x reader #pablo gavi x reader #fc barcelona #barça #blurb

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theresattrpgforthat · 7 months ago

Note

Any low improv TTRPG's? as in low on the GM part, i would like to try some and see how it compares as I'm part of the improv scary crew

THEME: Low Improv Games.

Happy holidays folks! I'm going to try and get the last recommendation posts of the year out quickly, so you might get some more rec posts in the next two weeks!

As for this one friend, I tried to mix things up across game and genre, so I hope you find something you like!

Tunnels in White, by MeatCastle GameWare.

Old money siphoning new money from every corner of your city. An aging mansion, quiet and worn. An old corporation shifting its gaze from development to development, always hungry, always growing.

A warehouse bearing the name Singleton Solutions, small and unassuming in one of a hundred industrial parks like any other, takes in truckload after truckload but never sends anything out. It’s the same for the people. Sometimes, they arrive in towncars, other times in shuttle vans. None come out. Ever.

What you know is something strange is going on inside that warehouse and you are determined to discover what it is. What you cannot know is where and how far the mystery may take you.

Tunnels in White is an adventure for Liminal Horror, a modern-day horror OSR game about normal people being subjected to terrible things. A good number of adventures and mysteries written for these games come with locations, maps, factions, enemies and consequences for you to use as needed whenever your players enter a new location or attempt something dangerous.

I’m really interested in the use of these adventures for various OSR games, as the adventures seem to be what have most of the meat, rather than the rules. If you really want these games to sing, you’ll want your players to create characters that fit the kind of adventure that you’re presenting to the table - in this case, perhaps your characters all have loved ones who have gone missing recently. Once your players have character buy-in, they won’t need much prompting to delve deeper into the mystery, and the fact that Tunnels in White doesn’t have one single “correct” solution to the main problem means that your players’ actions will mean all the more.

I think I see this module as a stepping stone towards improv in that it gives you options to choose from, rather than a singular railroad to follow. What you’ll get out of this is a location that feels logically consistent and real to the players, while the story that happens will feel organic, and heavily dependant on what the group decides to do.

You can find more modules for Liminal Horror in the Tales from the Void Liminal Horror Jam.

The Doom of Macbeth, by leozingiannoni.

Famine. Execution. Oppression. Supernatural longevity that no one seems to quite understand or question. As King Macbeth’s reign approaches its 100th year, your knights receive a revelation in a dream.

It does not have to be like that.

As an answer to prayers and cries, the god Lugh reveals to you the alternative realities that could be, if Macbeth is not allowed to move on with his coup. You wake up to 100 years in the past, before you were born. What will you do to stop this horrible future?

The Doom of Macbeth is a deep-dive into one of the most iconic plays of all time, where you fight your way to avoid a future that seems inevitable. Using the Doomsday Clock mechanic found in Arc:Doom by momatoes, you simulate the feeling of the play creeping upon your characters, and must fight against it— or towards it.

Using a narrative that is familiar to the GM and the players might be another way to enter a game without having to worry too much about improv. Even though this setting is only the size of a brochure, you and your crew can lean on your knowledge of the Scottish play to make things happen the way you want them to. In this version of the game, Macbeth succeeds in becoming a mad king, but you know that this can change, if you tweak the story.

One more thing: I think you might need Arc, by Momatoes, in order to play this game.

Kiss Me If You Can, by sdunnewold.

River is a notorious international art thief and cat burglar. Jules is a well-respected special agent in charge of art crimes. Jules is determined to find and bring River to justice. But maybe along the way… they'll kiss?

Kiss Me If You Can is a simple print and play two player cat and mouse romance game that you can play in under an hour. It features two unique decks of prompt cards, one for each character. Each turn you play a prompt card, answer its questions, maybe talk about a famous artist or painting, and get a little closer to justice and/or love.

Another two-player experience, Kiss Me If You Can feels very similar to games that are Descended from the Queen, in that the bulk of the game revolves around drawing cards and answering the prompts provided. You’ll come up with locations, personal motives, and reasons for your characters to end up getting closer to each-other, but the cards provide a lot of direction, so I don’t think I’d necessarily classify it as improv. If you want a cute romantic story about a will-they-won’t-they scenario, you might like Kiss Me If You Can.

Exalted Order of the Mystic Moose, by Jacob Marks.

The Mauvewoods. You can’t hope to see the crown of a mauvewood tree from the ground. It took a day just to climb to the top of the oldest trees. Look past the undergrowth and ghosts can be spotted on the old lumber paths. Every ghost you see used to live in a mauvewood tree. Knock on a healthy tree, and you just might hear a hollow wooden knock in answer.

This zine details a forest, a town, and a dungeon, all intended for use with the tabletop roleplaying game: Cairn. Explore a forest full of lumberjacks, maple syrup, and strange ghosts. Delve into an old mansion sinking into a marsh. Confront the Exalted Order Of The Mystic Moose.

Cairn has a few editions now: the link I’ve added to this entry is for the 2nd edition Warden’s Guide, and you can check out Yochai Gal’s creator page for both the Player’s Guide and the First Edition. This adventure has oodles of locations, three main factions, and a 20 room dungeon for your players to explore. Cairn feels like a very traditional fantasy game at its roots, but the Exalted Order of the Mystic Moose feels like like a unique take, with some flavour that feels very Boreal Forest to me.

Like many OSR adventures, this isn’t a linear adventure - instead is a series of connected locations and a broad description of things that are happening when the player group shows up. The setting has a natural conflict that is happening separately from the players’ choices or decisions, which will make the setting feel more real and important to your play.

If you want to explore more adventures for Cairn, you can check out the A Town, A Forest, A Dungeon Jam!

Totally Killer, by bloodygorgeous.

When you were kids, all the girls—and, certainly, some of the boys—wanted a Chrissy, the only fashion doll to give Barbie a run for her money. Chrissy was designed to be the woman every girl dreamed of becoming: stylish, smart, independent, and, most importantly, a total smokeshow. For a while, shelves exploded with Out of This World Astronaut Chrissies. Protect and Serve Policewoman Chrissies. ’80s prom queen Totally Killer Chrissies. Chrissy could do anything, all while her boyfriend Ben waited at home. Chrissy could have it all. Decades later, as Chrissy fever descends again on Deep Lake, a murderer stalks the night. The police have their theories, but only the Latchkeys suspect the truth: that this killer has long legs, an unstoppable smile, and a passion for fashion. Chrissy has come to life, and she’s come to slay.

Public Access is horror-mystery found-footage style game that relies on pre-written mysteries to give the table an organic approach to role-play. While typically PbtA games are considered very high in improv, I think the mystery format of these kinds of games takes a lot of weight off of the GM’s shoulders. Typically these mysteries provide a very strong starting point, introducing the table to the mystery and some key characters to look to for hints and clues. The GM is also provided with a series of clues to drop into the game where relevant - perhaps a headless doll is found where one of the victims went missing, or a mysterious silhouette lurking in the distance.

These kinds of games also typically come with some kind of track to help monitor both the progress of the latch-keys as well ask heighten the stakes to encourage the story to keep moving. In other games, I know that this track is called the mystery clock. I’m not entirely sure what Public Access uses, but the core rulebook looks to have quite a bit hidden within its pages, so I’m confident that it contains everything you need to run your first game.

You can find more mysteries for Public Access in the Degoya County Public Access Jam.

Auctōrātus, by M. Allen Hall.

You know why you are here. You are not a criminal. You are not a slave. You are an auctōrātus, a volunteer, and you will be paid well for your performance. Make sure your mech is ready. Select your components. Charge your batteries. Be prepared for the fight of your life.

Auctōrātus is a 1- or 2-gladiator game of mechs vs. monsters. The 3 files include the one-page (2-sided) rules sheet, the character sheet, and the map of the arena.

Battle monsters over six rounds to win the tournament. From the lowly Scale Wolf to the monstrous Crescent Wyvern, you will need to carefully choose your mech's components if you want to survive.

Featuring a diceless, zero-luck mechanism, Auctōrātus is an experiment in tabletop combat. Since this is a one or two-player game that focuses primarily on strategy, you might find a lot of satisfaction in simply immersing yourself in strategy. You can play the game solo and manage everything yourself, or play as two players who take turns playing the monsters in each person’s respective arenas.

A Good Plan Never Fails, by Deric Bindel.

A GOOD PLAN NEVER FALLS is a one-shot, gm-less roleplaying game for 2-5 players focused on infiltrating a TOWER and making off with THE GOODS held within. The group builds up with a tumbling block game, with each move taking everyone closer to collapse or success!

Over the course of play, everyone will create a member of the Crew from a set of Archetypes and receive a special Secret Agenda, dictating how they get their BONUS. You'll be bulding up the TOWER, dictating each obstacle and how you overcome them. When the TOWER inevitably COLLAPSES, it's time to shift from the HEIST to the GETAWAY!

A really strong feature of pulp-action genre games is that they’re typically heavily inspired by movies, like heists or cons. This means that the game has a pretty familiar structure, such as the infiltration or the getaway. You can rely on the hallmarks of these genres when playing these kinds of games to fill in the blanks, and it’s easy to figure out what happens next because the game builds each phase onto the last. In the case of this game, that means that the first part of the game, building the tower, leads into the second part, when the tower collapses.

Kill Him Faster, by Korvidae Games.

On May 8th, 2068, scientist Elisabet Rosenzweig answered the most pressing question in science fiction – “what’s the first thing you would do if you could travel through time?” - by killing Hitler. It took her precisely 5 years, 137 days, eight hours, and 12 seconds.

Fifteen years later killing Hitler is the hottest sport on the planet. The record stands at two weeks.

Competitive games are another great structure for play groups that want to build on something without needing a lot of heavy improv. In Kill Him Faster, the game is divided into three phases: pregame, game, and post-game, each composed of press conferences, the competitive portion, and interviews. There’s various additional phases for a longer game, including Trade Day (where athletes swap teams) and off-season vignettes, which allow you to slow down and focus on individual characters.

If you want a taste of the game before you buy, you can get the rules preview here.

Other Notes

A Complicated Profession by Always Checkers Publishing has a lot of guiding questions and a very structured order of play, and follows reformed bounty hunters running a cruise ship.

Tournament Arc, by Biscuit Fund Games, focuses on sports competitions, which may provide a structure that is easy to follow, as well as a more collaborative experience.

If you like what I do and you'd like to send me a token of your appreciation, I have a Ko-Fi page!

#low improv #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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windser · 1 year ago

Note

PLEASE write out that sylus work. The fandom beeds more spicy MCs and i can tell she would give him a run for his money

pairing: mc x sylus (soulmate!au) wc: 1.2k+

a/n: loooool here is just a bit of a teaser for how i imagined it all playing out. i highly doubt this is how mc and sylus will meet BUT its so fitting for how i image their dynamic playing out. but i really do want to wait for the official drop so I can confirm his characterization. [based on this post]

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

"he’s asking for me ?"

"he identified you by your mark."

your palm immediately goes to cover your wrist, blocking the neat scrawl from view. but it was little too late at this point.

you had never really taken care to hide your soulmate mark from the world. to bear it publicly was often a act of seeking from the individual, showing it proudly as if it might attract their pair sooner.

but for you, it was just as obscure seen or hidden, the mundaneness lining the words that felt like it would never truly have meaning.

‘you’re beautiful’

in your youth days, you thought it was the most romantic gesture to know that your fated person had such a high option of you at first glance. but the years tarnished that same phrase, after hearing it from too many loose lips with hollower intentions.

now it was just a first tattoo, fated second.

the slouch of your shoulder is nonchalant in gesture, though equally weighed down by the situation. “he probably just has intel on it. i’m too careless in the field if i can be identified so easily."

it was a crude bluff, a mere diversion from the pending truth. because yes, it was an indefinite, but only one individual in the world would ever need to find someone based on it.

besides this was the presumed leader of onichynus.

even considering the idea was a headache.

tara shuffles to the right at the sound of your name and you both look up to see jenna waiting, ready by the door.

her quiet nod feels like a direct pang to your temple.

right, a headache indeed.

࿓࿓༄༄࿓

though captured, albeit suspiciously easy, the operation did not come without effort. reportedly there were no casualties but it had been a battle enough in the end.

jenna warns you of as much as the two of you descend further into lower levels of the security facility. there weren’t many criminals who fit the eligibility to be locked behind maximum security. the hiss of the heavy steel doors partying to grant entry spoke volumes about the threshold needed to hold such a threat.

the leader of onichynus was an old tale but not the first. it never occurred to you until now what other individuals might be stored away here for the safety of linkon city.

“ma’am”

the hunter standing before the last sealed door saluted jenna with a stiff salute, the action drawing your attention to the smear of red against his palm.

a battle indeed.

jenna answers with a more tempered gesture, less precise with exhaustion.

“any changes?”

you’d been sent home early into the conclusion of the operation, leaving the higher ups to decide how to deal with the sour victory. it had been less than twelve hours since then and you doubted jenna spent a second of it resting.

the same could he said of the officer standing guard who looked like if he leaned against the wall for even a moment he would slump over.

“none.”

his gaze flicked briefly to you, then down. “is this...?”

it seemed that the leader of onichynus was very vocal with his demands. even without tara's penchant for information, it was now no wonder how everyone knew of your predicament.

you had taken care to clasp your arms behind your back but it seemed the damage was already done.

“the deal was confirmation enough, though at this point it’s all formality.” jenna is addressing you now. her lips turn as she observes the door as if she could see through it. perhaps feeling the aura was enough.

“this is late to mention but you don’t have to do this.”

tardy indeed given that she had already led you to the lion’s den. your face seems to display enough of that sentiment given her sigh.

“if this is true-“ if this man if truly your soulmate, goes unsaid. “then council will reassess the situation.”

the words taste asinine even when they don’t come from your mouth. it wasn’t as if your fate could twist their judgement. the man behind those doors has earned his sentence, it was too late to draw you into the equation.

besides, what would you even do with a criminal as a soulmate? this early in the game, you could cut your loses and actually prepare for a non-fated pairing.

what you did know was that nothing was going to change with one-half meeter of steel between you.

“well let’s see what’s behind door number three.”

jenna doesn’t comment on the joke, likely attributing it to nerves. but in truth, you were just as ready as everyone else to get this over with.

given you had not been present at the exact capture, the face of onichynus still a mystery to you. though this close, you couldn’t help but recall that feeling of the ominous gaze hanging over you. it was one of the few times you had placed the feeling out of your nightmares. the knowledge that it came from the individual fate had decided to pair you with may as well have been the jest of the century.

so yeah you want this over with so you could get the last laugh.

with Jenna’s assent, the officer clears the few steps needed to join his peers where after a short order, the final steel doors began to part.

jenna doesn’t move forward, so neither do you. though you can’t help the slight tense in your limbs as you prepare for ... what a fight or flight?

there was research, anecdotes and stories about the first gaze but you never really summed up what you thought your experience would be.

‘you’re beautiful’

you’d heard it so many times before. would it really be so different this time?

what you notice first is the bareness of the room, appearing as just that, an empty space. well not completely empty; for at its center was a man. one who someone took up every parameter while only being rooted in a single square.

UNICORNS holding measures were … questionable, leaving him in a simple chair with only what you imagined were handcuffs to keep him rooted. this man who nearly cleared an entire squadron. though you supposed an escape wouldn’t come easy for him.

him, who was not just a man, but the dangerous leader to an illegal organization chasing the aether core. a figure with ashen hair and vermillion eyes. a figure with ashen hair and vermillion eyes, likely deprived of rest since his capture, though he didn't give off the impression of losing any sleep over it. he also sported more than a few smudges of dark crimson, making him appear every bit as dangerous as his lore suggested.

you think you hear a sound of protest from jenna as you take a challenging step forward, but it falls on deaf ears as inquisitiveness wins out.

he certainly fit the bill of a criminal figure. yet as he sat there, chained to a simple chair, chest rising with each breath with that slight tilt of his lips. there was just something else that made it hard to believe that this could possibly be your soulmate, questionable choices aside.

the man seemed to take your silence as an invitation as he spoke first.

“you’re beautiful.”

and in that instance, all of the violence and ominousness bled away, leaving just a man tied to a chair with dark eyes looking up at you with expectation.

you don’t realize your lips are curling downward as your eyes flicker back to his hands which were pinned behind his back.

and with your next words you sealed your fate forever.

“sorry, I’m not into subs.”

#sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #lnd sylus #love and deepspace #lnd x reader #love and deepspace imagine #i also havent opened the game in like weeks and i think its humorous how one 'bad' boy can drag me back in #;conflicted constrast

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