#like the pixel ones. I want that one set so bad...

[neganium]

Found out that the KJ 3DS game is on Solaris Japan through Throne basically on accident. Unfortunately it seems to be literally the only KJ thing that they have...

[faedotexe]

So i'm working on a tiny roll & write about being a giant dragonness and conquering the land and burninating the countryside and uh I'm kind of trying to make """"""art""""" for it lmao

chat is this cringe

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Caleb

Caleb always talked about how he would he would show you around SkyHaven when you got there. It was never an 'if' with him it was always a 'when'. Perhaps that should've been your first red flag, but when you have feelings for someone those red flags look a little pink A/N: I was chillin' in the N109Zone while I wrote this. Sylus rubbed my feet and brought me food.

↢ previous ... continue ↣

“Just give me some time….”

What did he mean by that? The memory of the way his voice shook and how it seemed like he was talking more to himself rather than you — haunted you endlessly. You spent your days on edge, looking over your shoulder, tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up out of breath. You were never able to use your phone again after that it just wouldn’t turn back on. You spun the new device in your hand flipping it over to see the new phone case you purchased for it.

Apples.

“Well thanks for the new phone Caleb” You mumbled to yourself, setting it aside on your desk before sitting down to get to work. Part of you missed playing Love and Deepspace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to download the app again after what happened with Caleb. For months you had managed to fall for that pixelated man only for it to end the way that it did. You still had no clue what he meant by ‘Give me some time’ but it gave you chills nonetheless.

“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Camerons voice aka your work bestie. “What?” The word rushed out of you. She stared down at you with a concerned look “I’ve been trying to get your attention I called your name at least ten times” You blinked rapidly as you looked around trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You hadn't realized you were spacing out “I’m sorry I was just trying to get this finished by end of day” You smoothed out your shirt and turned to face your friend “What's up?” Just when you thought it would be bad news you watched as a saccharine grin spread across her face. “Somebody had these delivered” She pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind her back and gently placed them in your lap. “Just for you”

Your whole face lit up as you looked down at the gorgeous flowers. No one has ever gifted you flowers before. The gesture almost made you combust just from staring at them. Carefully picking them up, you took a long sniff relishing in the floral notes that filled your senses. After getting a good sniff you quickly searched the flowers for a card to see who your secret admirer could be.

‘𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒊𝒑-𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒂𝒌 ♡ ͏𝑰 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 -𝑪 ’

Your heart dropped to your ass in an instant; it can’t be Caleb he’s not real. You sprang to your feet letting the flowers fall to the floor — petals broke away from the stems as you kicked it away. The room grew blurry as your lungs constricted and your heart pounded like a drum in your ears. The last thing you saw was your friend reaching for you before you were suddenly counting the ceiling lights. Cameron shook you by your shoulders trying to get you to breathe properly. “What was in those flowers!? What did you do? Should I call 911?” She wasn’t speaking to you she was looking over her shoulder — who's she talking to? Please don’t let it be your boss that lady is strict enough as it is. She’ll have you head on a stick if she finds out you passed out on the clock.

“No I'll take it from here” A tall looming shadow stood over you; his face came into view as he leaned down and cupped your cheek in his hand. “Let’s go home pipsqueak you don’t look so well” Caleb? But how? You wanted to flinch away from his touch or get up and scramble away from him but your body was so heavy. “Ca…Caleb” It was so hard to speak your words coming out slurred as you continued to become even dizzier. “How?…..” His smile was blurry but his voice was clear "I take it you missed me considering this phone case"

The world seemed to be going by in flashes. First you were on the floor and next you were in someones arms and now you’re watching flashes of light pass by as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Get some rest” A gentle hand rubbed small circles on your back willing you to sleep. The heavy weight of sleep outweighed your will to stay awake.

You were groggy as you rolled over and instinctively snuggled into your pillow. You wanted to go back to sleep, but the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling. Breakfast? You sat up in a panic looking around the foreign room. This was not your room and this was not your city. Fumbling out of bed you somehow managed to wrap your feet up in the sheets falling to the floor with a hard thud “Fuck that hurt” just then you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. Terror set in as you tried to untangle yourself from the blankets as the footsteps grew closer. “Come on come on come on” you begged the sheets that seemed to continuously grip onto your legs. “You can’t be serious” You whisper-yelled to yourself.

The room door opens softly and there stands Caleb with a look of worry. “What happened?” He rushes to your side and tries to help untangle you. “Caleb!?” Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head staring at the man in front of you. You wriggle and flail only making things worse “Hold still!” Caleb pins you in place with his evol as he unwraps your lower half from the sheets and blanket. “There. All done” He meets your stare and gives you those same puppy dog eyes that you remember all too well.

“W-where am I?” It took everything in you to keep from cowering into the corner. You knew there was no point in trying to run since he could quite literally pin you in place. He beamed as he gestured towards the floor to ceiling window “Welcome to SkyHaven I hope you enjoy your stay” He said with a wink. Your lips curled into an angry frown while your eyes ping ponged between the view and him. “What? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I don’t understand how I'm seeing you” You rolled your shoulder to try and quell the pain radiating from it. There will definitely be some bruising or at least some soreness later. “That’s classified information Pip-squeak” Before you could ask anymore questions Caleb pulled you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You looked up at him almost entranced by how handsome he is. You shook your head and snatched your hands from his. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse! Take me home!”

He tilted his head and reached a hand out to caress your cheek “You are home” Although he had the warmest smile and lovestruck eyes; you couldn't help, but feel like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you. You stared dumbfounded; words escaping you.

Say something. Say something!

“I have to leave soon but I wanted to share a meal with you before then” That's when you noticed he was dressed in his colonel uniform — damn he looked so good too, but you refused to tell him that.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the door. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up with his long strides. “I can walk on my own Caleb let go” You yanked at his grip and surprisingly he let go — only for him to swiftly sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style into the dining room. He gently placed you in a chair and sauntered off to the kitchen returning with your favorite juice, a glass of water, and scallion pancakes. You stared at your plate not sure if you’re happy or pissed.

“I didn’t poison it so stop poutin’ and eat before it gets cold” You glanced at Caleb who occupied the seat next to you. He sat in a relaxed position with his head resting in his palm; studying you intently. You were still hesitant to eat anything this man put in front of you considering he kidnapped you to another world and won’t tell you how to get home. Caleb reaches a hand across you grabbing your knife and fork and slices a piece of your scallion pancake — popping it into his mouth with a subtle groan. He cuts another piece and turns the fork to you “See it’s safe”

You hesitantly part your lips as Caleb pushes the food into your mouth. The flavors bursting on your tongue had you audibly moaning as well. Caleb was a fantastic cook — you snatched the fork from his hand and dug right in taking a few sips of your drink to wash it down. The weight of his stare has you slowing down and immediately wiping your mouth “What are you staring at?” Calebs eyes soften as he slowly scans your face “You’re even more beautiful in person”

Even though you weren’t happy with him those words still gave you butterflies — you’ve been trying so hard to suppress them. You dropped your gaze and moved the last bits of your food around your plate “Don’t flirt with me you’re gonna make me nervous” He let out a soft chuckle and flicked your nose before leaning back in his chair — flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Caleb really was breathtaking; those violet eyes almost had you in a trance. You couldn’t help, but take in all his features — your eyes going from his eyes to his lips, taking notes of how full and soft they looked.

Continuing your perusal, you let your eyes move down, taking in his long muscular, but lean frame. His legs seemed to go for miles and you watched him spread them just a little wider when your eyes reached his lap. “You like what you see pip-squeak?” You finally snapped out of your self-inflicted trance and shook your head “You’re easy on the eyes even though you make my nervous system stand on end” You pushed your empty plate away, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your chair.

Caleb didn’t respond immediately — opting to just give your cheek a caress as he grabbed your plate. His silence was unnerving to say the least. Is he upset? Are you the reason he’s upset? Staying quiet seemed to be the best option. “So I’ll be leavin’ for three days I want you to stay here and when I get back I promise to give you the grand tour of SkyHaven” His voice was accompanied by the sound of dishes clattering and running water.

“Three days?!” You choked on your drink causing you to cough loudly. Caleb stopped what he was doing and rushed to your side — rubbing your back as you caught your breath. “I’m not staying here for three days! I have a life back home!” You pushed his shoulder so you could stand and get some space. You knew by the way his brows furrowed and the chilling demeanor that washed over him in an instance that you’d made him mad. “And how exactly do you plan on getting ‘home’ pip-squeak?” He took a step toward you making you step back. You didn’t get far as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. His eyes were becoming wild — this was the same look in his eyes before he ruined your phone for good. His heart was also beating rapidly in rhythm with yours.

You: Tell me how! Caleb: Didn’t you say you hated your job? You: Yes but- Caleb: Weren’t you the one who said you wanted someone to take care of you for once? You: Caleb I didn’t mean- Caleb: So why not stay here and be happy …. with me?

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood there letting part of yourself give in to him while the other half was ready to run out the door. Where would you go though? Who would help you? There’s no way Caleb is actually cruel enough to keep you here knowing damn well you don’t belong in this game. “I-I can’t” You croaked out not knowing if you wanted to kiss him or kick him. You watched Calebs’ expression fall, but he quickly covered it with a small grin. He stepped away from you and you almost chased after him due to the loss of warmth. He gripped you by your chin and you stood there frozen not sure what his next move would be. He narrowed his eyes as he searched your face for what? You didn’t know. To your surprise he placed the softest kiss on your lips. The gasp that followed was swallowed up by him as he deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to give him a swift kick to the crotch, but your heart was melting in the palm of his hand.

You kissed him back with the same fervor.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close. Caleb kissed you like he would never have this chance again while simultaneously savoring your lips like he had all the time in the world. He tapped the side of your thigh and you swiftly lifted it without question. Caleb picked you up, holding you close as he moved across the room and laid you down on the couch. He pulled away breathless and dropped his forehead on your chest ���If we keep going I’ll be late for work”

“I should probably get home anyway Caleb we can talk about this another day, but let me go home first” You ran your hands through his hair — it was soft. He lifted his head and for the first time, since bringing up home, his eyes showed no sign of anger. “You’re right” He stood to his full height and helped you to your feet. “Lets get you some pain medication for your shoulder” He brushed his fingertips over the darkening area “Then I'll tell you how to get home” his words were almost a whisper.

“Thank you” You could feel the tension melting off of you in waves.

“Follow me” He helped you to your feet and headed down the hallway towards what you assume is his room. You followed closely behind him; stumbling a few times to keep up. Once you were in his room your stumbling became much harder to control. Your breathing was becoming heavy and your head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. You braced yourself against the wall willing the dizziness to stop.

“What’s wrong? Come lay down” Caleb said feigning concern. Your body was too heavy to even try to fight him so you allowed him to guide you into his bed and you felt a soft kiss on your forehead right before drifting off to sleep. “I’ll be back soon”

The room was dark only lit by the moon through the window when you woke up. You sat up glancing around the room trying to figure out where you were. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you saw the outline of a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

No he didn’t.

You bolted out of bed at the sudden realization that you were still in Calebs home. “Caleb!” You yelled as you ran down the hall out into the living room. The place was dark and quiet not a single sign of another person. You ran to the front door, frantically trying to open it, but somehow Caleb managed to bolt this door shut making it impossible for you to leave. “He locked me in?” Think.

The windows!

You opened one of the few windows that wasn't floor to ceiling and found that it luckily wasn't sealed shut. Freedom was in reach. You went to put one leg out the window when you were met with an electrifying pain. “Ow! Damn it!” There was some kind of electromagnetic wall just outside the window. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Your breathing was ragged and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. “Fuck you Caleb you were never going to let me leave”

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@luvdegreen

[centrally-unplanned]

I was going through some archived scans of 90's otaku magazines, as is my sacred duty, and I stumbled on this ad for a Sega Saturn game I did not know:

The pitch of Roommate (as seen here) is that of a "real time" romance simulation:

What makes it real-time is that the game progresses in sync with the Saturn's internal clock. In that way [main girl] Ryoko is just like a real girl; she has her own daily habits and lives her life accordingly. So if you start the game in the afternoon, you might not be able to meet her because she's at school [...] The purpose is to enjoy living together with Ryoko in real time and communicating with her.

And this is exactly the kind of way-too-convoluted gimmick that sacrifices gameplay functionality on the altar of conceptual novelty based on random technology add-ons present in new-gen consoles of the era that I just love. Obviously the concept of starting a game and having the main girl not be present so you cannot play is completely asinine - but think of the realism!

Between that and the discount-Sadamoto 90's character designs, I wanted to see it for myself; so I spent way, way too long setting up a Sega Saturn emulator. In my experience early CD-ROM-based consoles often require much more bespoke set-ups to get working, in this case custom BIOS files in the emulator firmware directories, and JPN-language ones at that for this game. But I got it to work and oh yeah, this is some early "digital" console era crust:

Playing this game is just painful. The clock of course means that you essentially can't play it at all - looking at YouTube comments on the very few Let's Plays and such that exist, people are reminiscing about how they could never find Ryoko because their schedules didn't align. One person even comments:

This game is for NEETs and shut-ins

Which is a valid demo I guess! But it doesn't really stop there - your house is a "fully realized" 3D environment of bare walls which you navigate with clunky controls. Let me log in and take some screenshots...

Jesus Christ it's 10 pm and you are cooking dinner?! The one time I don't want this ghost popping out of the cracks in the floorboards, I swear...

Okay, got rid of her (She broke a plate -_- you moved in yesterday, girl):

You walk, in real time (step by step) through this pixel museum just...hoping that one of the rooms will contain Ryoko and proc a dialogue event based on the time of day. There is a little more to it than that but that is essentially the gameplay. This would, very obviously, be simply better as a straightforward visual novel.

But you see how that just isn't as cool in 1997, right? This is the era where the fidelity of graphics and the technology for simulation is progressing at a rapid clip, and everyone wants to see the boundaries pushed. Roommate isn't the first "real time simulation" game, but it is the most pure, the one fully committed to the bit. Your house is completely mapped out, the girl has her routine, you walk step by painful step through the rooms because this is "real", you are living it. They even use a live photo for the outside of the house to sell the aesthetic (and also save money):

Ryoko is waiting in the kitchen of that house when you come home from work, putting on an apron, ready to cook dinner. For you.

Assuming you get home at whatever fucking 30 minute window the game decided to gatekeep its gameplay behind! But of course I exaggerate - it wasn't that bad (there are little mechanics you can use to set some schedule times in the game for example), player tolerance for bullshit was way higher then, and you were expected to buy strategy guides for these things. So even though it was panned by critics on release...it was a sleeper hit with a devoted fanbase.

Which means it got a ton of sequels and ports! We don't have to go through them all, though I will share my favorite factoid about the first sequel - "ROOMMATE ~Ryoko in Summer Vacation~" from the wiki:

The character designs are significantly different from the previous game (especially Ryoko's brown hair and large breasts).

Priorities, baby. But some of the ports are interesting because of the changing tech. A version was ported to the PlayStation, which does not have the internal clock a Sega Saturn had. But coincidentally it did have the PocketStation, a handheld GameBoy/Tamagotchi hybrid expansion tool that did have an internal clock and could sync with the game. It also let you track Ryoko's schedule and play mini-games, with some very adorable animations as you can see in this ad for the product that featured Roommate:

This device absolutely reminds me of the Disc Fax system discussed in my Miho Nakayama essay - a very niche product biting off more than it can chew making games overly complex to play but allowing things that would otherwise be impossible (and this one was a good deal more successful at least). Here it allowed Roommate's central gimmick to function - and is super cute, honestly I would buy a standalone tamagotchi version of this game.

The PS1 also couldn't quite handle how the game was built for the Sega Saturn graphics-wise, and as such a bunch of the 3D elements were sanded off into 2D simulacrums - most notably the house:

Which, despite this being a technological downgrade, is way better! It looks adorable, you can actually see what is going on and where Ryoko is, and you can navigate it way more cleanly. God, did...hold on let me tab back to the game...yeah, is there no clock in the original game on screen. That is insane. Anyway the PS1 version had a lot of these cute little graphical additions, even right on the title screen:

It is definitely the better looking version, which is a classic tale - in 1997 the "bleeding edge" of 3D graphics were impressive to players, even through their roughness. Now they just aren't, and so the retro charm of designs that are optimized what the mediums of the time could reliably handle have a lot more appeal.

There was also a PC port in 1998, which did exactly what I suggested and added an "adventure" mode where you could ignore the clock system. They definitely learned over time what worked and what didn't; but the appeal of the gimmick is what first sold it to players in the end.

All of this is to say, don't play Roommate, and if you do just emulate the PS1 game instead of torturing yourself with the Sega Saturn version. Oh...you weren't gonna play a Japanese-only abandonware 90's not-even-eroge dating sim to begin with? Ah, well, yeah, I guess that makes sense.

Man I should translate it shouldn't I? So people can play it...

[kitconnor]

WORKING WITH YOUTUBE QUALITY - HOW TO GET THE BEST RESULTS

helloooo, i recently feel as though i have found the key when it comes to dealing with youtube quality and i thought it was worthwhile sharing! i'm finding that when you're stuck with 1080p videos only, (although there is a lot more 4k downloads these days, thankfully) the quality is pretty poor. BUT, this is speaking exclusively about the quality of youtube 1080p - if you use a site such as sharemania, that's usually acceptable and good quality and doesn't deliver poor results.

but alas, this is about youtube, so let's get into it! this process will simply go over all the ins and outs of working with youtube quality, and will not look into the entire giffing process. i'll be using photoshop 2025, but it should work on any version!

Download your video.

firstly, start by downloading your video with 4k video downloader. (<- this will lead directly to a dl of 4k video downloader if you don't have it already! link is all safe and official <3) i can't really think of any other downloader because i haven't used any apart from this one. it's safe and secure and does a really good job.

you'll want to choose the 1080p option that is the BIGGER file amount. not every video will have that, but i believe that the bigger file size is the youtube premium 1080p. take what you can get with them 😭

2. Load frames, crop, convert to smart object...

just get your normal prep work done! make sure to leave out sharpening. you should essentially just be here:

(if my process looks a bit odd or if, on the other hand, you'd like to know my process, you can check that here.)

3. sharpening.

THIS is the point that changes how your youtube file comes out. often times, you'll find the gif comes out with chunks, squares and overall poor quality. kind of like if i used my regular sharpening:

chunky! gross! trashy! i'm seeing too many pixels and things aren't looking the right way that i'd like. (tbh, it's not the worst i've seen - but you can definitely notice when there's light.) if i went on as it is now and continued to colour it, it would continue to look bad.

so, here's what you'll do.

i use multiple sharpening actions, for different purposes: one for hq downloads, so any movies, tv or downloaded/4k music videos, one making icons and the other for lower quality media and photos. the one that i typically use for youtube quality is @/anyataylorjoy's sharpening action (which many gifmakers use, so i wouldn't be surprised if you do already have it!) which is what you'll use. apply the action, using the 'sharper' lot.

^ that's the settings.

4. sharpening pt 2. (noise)

now, you'll need to add noise to offset how harsh the rest of the gif still comes up.

apply these exact settings onto the gif and ensure that monochromatic is enabled.

sometimes, 2% noise might make it look worse, or not be enough. i personally wouldn't go to anything more than 3%, (i don't think you'll ever want to use 3%) and wouldn't go lower than 1%.

it's grainy looking at the moment, just as is. from here, i'll colour it, and then if i think it's no good, i'll go back and clear the noise filter and toggle it. that's just how the process works, don't stress if it doesn't always go your way 😭 that's just gifmaking!

here's the final product!

and here's another example too, i know this one has a lot going on colour wise, so it can be good to look at it working on something with less bright colours:

as compared to before! before shows the gif was really smooth, as compared to in chappell's, were the lighting was just kind of messing with everything. you're more likely to come across videos that are that weird smooth quality, so i'd say that 7 times out of 10 you'll be applying these settings to something more along the lines of doechii's!

the before :)

[valeriehalla]

I have gotten a lot of messages saying that they really love the presentation of CURSE/KISS/CUTE. Often the commenter in question can’t say what exactly it is about the formatting that they appreciate, but that it just reads well and looks good. Well!!! Allow me to bare my wealth of secret knowledge for you once and for all:

I sorta just did some research into book typography...?

Here’s something you should know about web development, alright: typography on the web is really, really bad. The tools we have at our disposal—HTML and CSS—are incredibly powerful, but they are set up to fight you every step of the way towards Good Typography. When you know what you’re looking for, you can fix all the common issues quickly and easily. But it’s not easy to know what to look for, because

problematic typography is overwhelmingly the norm on the web, and

good typography is invisible.

Here’s a screenshot from CURSE/KISS/CUTE episode 0:

Now, I don’t want this post to come across as prescriptive. It is not my intention to tell you, “This is what good typography looks like, so follow my lead exactly.” I made a lot of choices with the typography of my web novel: many of those choices would not make sense in other contexts. What I want to convey to you is what those choices are, so that you will know they’re available to be made.

I mentioned that the web “fights you” when it comes to good typography. What do I mean by that? Well, check this out:

This is how that passage of text renders “by default.” In other words, this is how a web browser would render that text without any input from me about what styles to apply. It kind of sucks ass! But it also looks pretty familiar, right? This is not that far off from how a lot of websites—even websites full of prose (looking at you, AO3)—render text.

I think the most illustrative thing to do here would be to walk you through my thought process and show you, step by step, what decisions I made to turn this unstyled text into the styled version you see in the novel.

So, first things first:

1. We have got to shrink that text column.

Computer monitors... are wide. They are wider than they are tall. They are so wide, and they have so many pixels. This means you can fit a lot of characters on them. If you wanted, you could just have a wall of characters from the left side of the screen all the way to the right side. Talk about efficient!!

You should never, ever, ever do this.

This is one choice that I actually will make a prescriptive statement about, because it’s supported by quite a lot of research: fairly narrow text columns are more legible. Specifically, research seems to support the idea that a width in the range of 50 to 70 characters per line is the most comfortable for people to read*. Every font is different, so it takes a little doing to turn that “characters” figure into a pixel measurement; I went with 512 CSS pixels for the maximum width of my text column:

Isn’t that just so much nicer to read already?

*A commenter reminds me that I’d be remiss not to point out that the research on column width legibility isn’t completely conclusive. You do want to limit the width of your text columns, but going over the 70 character-per-line recommendation isn’t necessarily the end of the world, and you might have good reasons to do so. I did not: as mentioned, one of my goals was to mimic book-style typography, and books by nature have fairly restrained column widths, on account of they’re books.

2. Picking a font.

I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow on how I decided what font to use. The short story is that I asked some designers, and one of the recommendations I got was the free font Crimson Pro, which I took a liking to immediately:

It’s just an all-around attractive serif font, but one thing I really like about it for use in a novel is its highly-visible quotation marks. They’re just kinda jumbo! They’re real big! Easy to see! In a novel, those things aren’t just ornamentation. It makes a great deal of practical sense for them to stand out just a bit. It also has a fairly large x-height, unlike a lot of the more traditional options, which is good for legibility on a computer screen.

3. Adjusting the line-height

Web browsers default to a line-height of about 1.2em, which, as you can probably tell, is quite cramped. If you go and Google “optimal line height for legibility”, you’ll get a number of results right off the bat suggesting 1.5em. Sounds good! Let’s do that:

Well... hmm. That’s definitely an improvement, but between you and me, it actually looks a bit too spacey to my eyes. I wonder why?

I’ll cut to the chase: the 1.5em recommendation makes some assumptions about the font you’re using. In Arial, the letter “A” is about 0.6em tall; in Crimson Pro, it’s about 0.5em. That means that there’s no one-size-fits-all solution to spacing your lines, because different fonts have different amounts of empty space baked in. How annoying!

Let me tell you something about the kind of nerd I am. When I had this realization, I grabbed some books off my shelf and pulled out a literal micrometer. I started measuring the line-heights against various font features to see if there were any patterns I could spot in professional typesetting. Here’s what I found:

Almost every book on my shelf spaces lines such that the distance between one baseline and the next is about three times the x-height. How cool is that? I clapped my hands like a seal when I put this together.

Adjusting the line-height to match what I observed in the wild gives us this:

It’s a subtle difference, but to my eyes it feels just right. It’s almost like magic!

4. Paragraph spacing...

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Probably the most controversial choice I made with CURSE/KISS/CUTE’s typography was to opt for book-style paragraph indentation rather than web-style paragraph spacing—like so:

I did this for a few reasons:

It’s what I’m used to. I’ve read a lot of books, and this is just the way that books are formatted. I think for something aspiring to the title of “novel”, there’s value in making it look the way a reader probably expects a novel to look.

A novel has a lot of paragraph breaks in it. A paragraph in, say, an encyclopedia entry might go on for half a page or more; whereas it is unusual for a paragraph in a modern work of narrative prose to run for more than a handful of sentences, especially in any scene with dialogue. Because paragraph breaks are so common, spacing between paragraphs in a novel results in a lot of wasted space. Also, subjectively speaking, the additional space seems to me to lend an undue amount of weight to paragraph breaks. I’m just starting a new thought; there’s no need for a 21-gun salute, you know?

Having said that, here are some good reasons you might decide not to do paragraph indentation anyway:

Doing it right requires a bit of extra legwork. Notice how the very first paragraph in the image above has no indentation. That’s because it’s the start of a new section, and the first paragraph in a section traditionally goes unindented. This is an easy detail to miss, and it can be difficult to wrangle CSS into doing it for you automatically.

Web users don’t expect it. For the first decade of the web’s existence, there was no good way to do paragraph indentation; by the time CSS rolled around and made it easy, paragraph spacing had already become the norm. And while CURSE/KISS/CUTE may be a novel, it is also, specifically, a web novel!

But it’s my house and I get to make the rules, so I went with indentation. Incidentally, there seems to be a dire lack of research into the question of whether indentation or spacing is more legible for readers—but the data that does exist appears inconclusive at best. So, the choice really does come down to vibes.

5. The tragedy of justification.

You’ll note that one way in which I did not make my web novel look like a paper novel is the text alignment. It’s un-justified: the right margin is ripsaw-ragged.

This is because it is not possible to justify text on the web.

Oh, you can try. Look right here: there’s a CSS property for it and everything. Just turn on “text-align: justify” and...

Nightmare! The interword spacing on that first line is almost as wide as the indentation!

Reader, I’m afraid that your web browser is simply too dumb. That’s not the browser’s fault: robust algorithms for justifying text without creating these distractingly huge gaps between words have existed for many decades, and modern computers are powerful enough to run them in real time with little performance impact. It’s just, uh—nobody has ever bothered to implement them into web browsers. It is the damnedest thing.

I tried, I really did. You can mitigate this problem a bit if you enable automatic hyphenation, but browsers are unfortunately also kind of dumb at hyphenating. Firefox, for example, will refuse to hyphenate any word containing a capital letter, so any sentence with a lot of proper nouns in it is a lost cause. I tried manually inserting soft hyphens with a text preprocessor I wrote myself, but still these overjustified lines plagued me: when the text column narrows, for example on a phone, even hyphens can’t save you. The line-breaking algorithm is simply too naïve to optimize for well-justified text, and that’s not something you can fix as a web developer.

As a result, my heavy-hearted recommendation is to never use text justification. It’s just too distracting.

6. And then some extra stuff just for me

I added drop-caps because it looks neat and I made the ellipses spacier because I think it looks good when it, uh, when they are spacier. I think that looks pretty good that’s just my opinion though.

That’s all! Hope you learned something bye!!!

[kitbunnyroo]

thinking about...abandoned android boyfriend....

lemme apologize from now...this is a looong one. it could be structured better, but it's literally just me updating this over the course of some hours/days (?). hope you enjoy this ridiculously long tidbit thooo! <3 (help y'all hit that 30 fast....tyyy!)

also omg thank you all for all the love on the centaur man post??? we love big strong bby fr, 100% will bring him back if y'all wanna see more of him 🤍🤍 (also, not proof read nothing i write is, so forgive any errors plsss)

like picture it, you just find him in a scrap yard cause your pet ran into it or something right...and you can tell that he's functioning, so you're confused as to why he got put for scrap? considering these things are crazy expensive, and the people who threw him out were ever so kind enough to leave all his original packaging, you took him back home.

it did take a while to get his station set up in a little corner, but it wasn't too bad, especially as you looked into the illuminated green eyes of the android who stood a good head or two taller than yourself once you figured out how to get him up and running again.

after you explained in even greater detail how he came to be in your possession, you could almost hear the mechanics in his brain recalibrating all the missed system updates as he now addressed you as master/mistress. not ideal, but who are you to complain once he fixes the drip in your sink that almost cost you hundreds of dollars. maybe having an android in your home wouldn't be so bad.

time flies and you come to find out he was scrapped cause beyond functionality, he had somehow developed a conscious of sorts. which when you think about it, anybody else would be freaked out by their machine suddenly smiling and showing human emotions. was it freaky? hell yeah. was it bad?....not so much.

there was lots of reassurance to be done...he thought that once he started to slip and his consciousness shone through again you'd dump him to be scrap metal too...well, after they remove the scarily realistic skin-like material that outlines his hardware. "So...you're not going to power me off and box me up like the last family did..?" he'd find himself asking after long conversations about how you don't really care he got more human-like as the days went on. living on your own it isn't that bad to feel like you have extremely helpful company rather than a machine in your empty halls. and when he looks at you oh so sweetly? how can you not tell him this is his home too.

android housemate, doing his best to make sure you're always happy. always stress free. always well taken care of. always healthy. always satisfied. so when he's cleaning your room and finds a vibrator, he's everything and appalled. why would you have this when he's right here? was he not good enough? did you not want him to help you? was it his fault? but he simply places it on it's charger and closes your door. when you get home that day you can tell something's off, it's the same air as the early stages when he thought you'd throw him out. so you just make sure to be extra sweet to your caring housemate.

android housemate, now doing research on human pleasure, watching porn, reading all sorts of articles and Quora forums. this seems easy enough to do...he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't ask him to help. darling android housemate realizing that his fans start to go double time when the pixels start to look like you instead of whoever is actually in the videos...even more so when he realizes that's what an imagination is like and that his is picturing himself with you in these videos...he wonders if that can happen....

yandere (???) android housemate who's suddenly gotten all clingy once you're home. as usual, dinner is hot and plated, desert already lined up, but as you shower you can hear him making the time to pick out your outfit from your drawers instead of double checking all is well in the rest of the house...odd, but you don't pay the particularly revealing choice of clothing much mind. dinner goes as usual, till he offers you a much more...inviting? smile after you tell him about your grievances of the day. his eyes never leaving you, even as you eat and he updates minor software...you ask if he can close the windows cause there's a much too warm of a breeze coming in, and he's suddenly glad he has the capabilities to hide the blush that threatened to rise to his fabricated cheeks since it was just his fans. he was getting a bit too much enjoyment from the sight of you wearing an outfit he had picked, enjoying his meals that he makes you everyday, you chose him from the scrap yard that he's convinced held many other androids...

yandere (??) android housemate that's gotten cold to you since you brought home another human and claim that they're your partner. he'd thought that he was being clear with his consecutive months of flirting since his research began, but apparently not clear enough. now he's forced to watch as you bring this human over, it is nice to hear you brag about how lovely he treats you though, especially when he sees them almost shrink where they sit, obviously he can already tell they won't be able to treat you better than your housemate. how could they? they're just a weak human, and he's an android that's learnt every last one of your tastes.

yandere (?) android housemate that's gotten over his chilly attitude in favour of comforting you after your breakup and every proceeding one from then on. on one hand he doesn't enjoy seeing you hurt, but on the other hand he knows the only one meant for you is him, so he'll continue to let these humans know that they won't ever hold a candle to him when it comes to your affections. you don't have to be in pain, you just have to realize he's the one for you. and you can go back to your blissful life.

yandere...android housemate who's worried after you stumble through the door after a work/college party, clearly intoxicated out of your mind. he effortlessly picks you up and takes you to your room, laying next to you when you refused to let him go cause his generated warmth was nice compared to the cold of the air conditioned room. he listens to you babble on about who knows what, and then about your latest break up, and then he's shocked when you blurt out that he'd make such a good boyfriend if he wasn't an android...and somehow, somewhere in his wiring, that hurt? but it also lit something cause you went on to praise all he does for you, especially highlighting his advances and he comes to the conclusion that you only started looking for a human partner because you had assumed that although he had a conscious, he couldn't feel romance. and boy was he now determined to prove you wrong.

yandere. android housemate, now doing everything possible after that night to display romantic affection. sensual massages after particularly aggravating days where his fingers work wonders to the tension coursing through your body, at first you don't think much of it, but when you feel the spikes of breeze specifically from him after every one of your moans, you try to keep your voice down. he downloads them to his software though, and is quickly researching the different modifications available for his kind.

yandere android housemate that gets tired of being referred to by his model name and demands you give him a proper one. and you do. and he loves it. thankfully, he's still linked to the cards of his previous family, so he can make purchases using their money instead of yours without suspicion. he gets his "personal" modification made under their card, leaves right after you do for school/work, and he's back before you're home, already getting things sorted for when you're back. now he just has to hide the tent that forms whenever you call him by the name you gave him....

newly named yandere android...you're not sure anymore. after walking in on him far too many times since you're used to him usually being smooth, but now he has an...enticing, length of dick just hanging between his legs, it's kind of awkward. even more so when you find yourself outside his newly appointed bedroom to ask him to do something, and end up overhearing his whiney voice floating through the air. now you can't help but wonder how it feels if the rest of his skin feels like regular human skin...maybe an android boyfriend won't be so bad after all...

your android housemate, putting in extra work to keep you happy once he realizes you're not bringing home any more humans. even the vibrator and any other toys you might've had are stored away rather than readily available near your bed. maybe if he does a good enough job, you'll finally ask him for help. you swear you see a subtle throb in his pants sometimes when the thought runs through his not so little android brain.

your android boyfriend with fans so loud when you finally ask him to touch you, that you could've sworn you misread his intentions. but as soon as you try to back out of the situation he's pulled you against his chest with one of hands deeply entangled in you hair while the other hugs you close to him, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was desperate for that moment...that and the fact that once you're finally in bed he takes initiative to slip under your blanket next to you instead of going to his own room, his hands finding their way snugly around your waist to cuddle you but surely making their way lower down, quicker when he realizes that not only are not trying to stop him, but you're basically leaning into his touch. the frenzy he goes into when you whisper his name that you gave him has your legs quivering on his shoulders, toes pointed every which way as those same illuminated eyes stay glued to your body, confusingly realistic tongue moving more enthusiastically with every sound you make.

your android boyfriend. who now takes any chance he can get to ask if he can fuck you. if his tongue game was this good...what else was he capable of? the thought barely has time to run across your mind because as soon as you agree he's gonna have you folded in half and stuffed full of the most realistic dildo you've ever felt. it didn't feel fabricated in the slightest. from the throb of the veins in your walls to the way it drags so fucking good inside of you, and he makes sure to study your body as he goes. this particular spot made your eyes roll? he's going right back there. you like having you sensitive bits teased while his balls are slapping your skin so hard you can hear them through the wet mess? he's abusing them. by the time he's done you've came enough times to lose count, and best believe he makes sure to endlessly thank and praise you through every bit of it. comments of how good you make him feel, the dimming of his eyes enough to let you know he really does feel it, thanking you for letting him be this close to you, begging you not to go when you try to squirm away from the overstimulation (he calms down a bit so you can catch yourself whenever it's really too much), not to mention the starved kisses he gives you whenever the position allows (all the time). he'll have your back against the wall and hold you up so the only place you can go is further onto his cock while his tongue finally gets to explore your mouth. you'd never believe an android could be so adorably vocal. the moans, the whimpers, the whines. (he can't bring himself to degrade you though, sorry </3)

your android boyfriend making sure he puts the utmost effort into after care. if you let him hit, he's sure to run you a shower or bath of your preference, and trust that when you're out he's already got you a freshly made meal with an accompanying drink. he always makes sure to ask if he was too rough with you, gently massaging your muscles while you relax after your meal. if there's anything, anything at all you desire, he already does it for you, but now he'll go the extra miles if it means you'll be even happier.

your android husband, proposed after years of taking you out on the most wonderful dates, planned more of the wedding than you did since he only wanted you to worry about looking your best, he does let you help if you want though <3. android husband who can't cry, but you almost swear you see him sobbing as you walk (or he walks if you'd prefer) down the aisle, the tears slowing down but never to a complete stop till it's finally time for the "I do"s. your android husband who takes you on a splendid honeymoon of nothing but relaxation, good sights and food, and even better sex. he knows he can't get you pregnant, but that doesn't mean he can't try extra hard once the topic of children roll around. if you do want children though, he's not against adoption (or a sperm donor once their background checks out)

(for his family he invited his previous family, who were surprisingly chill with him using their cards to fund your vacations and now wedding...talk about rich rich)

your android husband <333.

this totaled to 2,264 words (woah??), and i can NOT lie?? i like it. hope you enjoyed this terribly long read and tysm again for all the support like hello!!🤍✨

[spookyrea]

A Cheap Trick Called Shame

Chapter 1 / Read on AO3

Loki has a plan. A twelve step plan to woo both you and the world (in that order). Unfortunately, he neglects to communicate any of this to you. Chaos ensues. Or: you have a plan. A plan that involves brute-forcing Loki into admitting that he likes you. Unfortunately, you're a witch with a limited grasp on your powers. Chaos ensues. Or: Tony is a very, very good friend, even when he doesn't want to be.

18+ NSFW / fem reader

Loki Laufeyson is all sharp lines. From the slope of his nose to the flat plane of his chest, there is not an edge to him that has not been filed to a point. Even in moments of relaxation, his muscles strain under a skin stretched too thin, hinting at a terrible, jagged restlessness. He is a weapon ground down on a whetstone, which he makes no effort to hide.

The first time you saw Loki – in person, not in a gossip rag or in a pixelated profile on a screen – he towered over the shape of some would-be tyrant, his boot pressed firmly to the soft spot under their skull. It was your first real mission – that is to say, the first one to incur sizable property damage. You hadn’t even seen the action, relegated to keeping civilians safe and handling minor set-backs while Thor and his brother ran point. So the fun was already over, and the bad guy defeated by the time you arrived. Everyone else was celebrating another job well done except for Loki, who watched the enemy wriggle as a cat does a mouse – with a detached curiosity, his mouth whetted for dinner. 

Loki occupies a nebulous middle-ground that is becoming increasingly common: justifiably revered while equally reviled. Not quite an Avenger, but not quite not. Too great an asset to lose to a grudge. He is never trusted with important information, or access to your private chats, or even a room beyond the hoteling spaces offered in the Avengers Compound. There are some who will likely never forgive him for New York, and others who watched him crash-land a ship full of refugees with his brother and have decided to put their faith in that Loki.

Your staring drew his attention eventually. Preternatural in nature and so hungry; his eyes licked up every soft, human curve until he reached your eyes. 

Steve had hauled the enemy up by his scruff, vibranium shackles in hand. Steve was soft – round muscle and sweetheart eyes. The kind of quiet that's assertive. Next to Loki, he seemed comically kind. 

Loki took one step forward – or did you? – and then another, until you were near enough to speak. “You’re new,” he said.

“Yes.” 

“You’re a witch .”

You were turned dumb by his eyes. They were such a bright green – expressive, sparkling things, framed by a dark hedging of lashes and little creases at the corners. How much did he smile, you wondered, to carve lines in an immortal face? “Yes.”

He didn’t say much else. Only grinned, and pulled his gloves off finger by finger. A crowd was forming and the sound of a hundred shutters going off all at once drowned out the silence of battle. People were yelling. Loki kept looking. 

Steve pulled him away by the collar. “Enough schmoozing, Loki. Too public.”

“Shaking hands is the polite way to greet someone on Midgard, is it not?”

“Loki,” Steve had deadpanned. “You and I both know that you weren’t just going to shake her hand.”

Someone like Loki flirted for fun. Looked people in the eyes just to watch them go numb with wanting. Grinned – resplendent despite his terrible arrogance – because he knew they would cave and let him in no matter how evil he was.

But this didn’t feel like a joke. Loki looked back at you over his shoulder, towed away by his epaulettes, and his smile was genuine.

In the present, you stand on a balcony overlooking the Avengers Compound’s quad. The sun has set but the air is still warm; June has been kind so far, it's days rarely so hot that you have to hide inside.

Loki didn’t join you until everyone else went to bed. He does this a lot – avoids detection. It sometimes strikes you as odd, considering how quick Loki is to hog the spotlight, but you imagine the public eye can get tiresome even for someone as naturally egotistical as him. Or maybe he’s just embarrassed by your human-ness. Either way, spending time with him is a pleasure you’ll accept regardless of his intentions.

“Careful.” Loki is sin incarnate, pouring himself over your shoulder to offer you his mystery drink. “This is very powerful.”

“What will it do to me?”

“Enslave you to my every desire?” He leans against the bannister, cheek-to-shoulder, and watches you with the slightest slouch.

“Is that right?” You raise it just high enough to get a taste; it’s sharply floral and leaves your mouth feeling sticky, like you’ve swallowed corn syrup. Unlike earthly alcohol it doesn’t burn, but it does leave behind a strange itch in your sinuses.

“You Midgardians have no self-preservation skills.”

“I think you’re just slipping,” you counter. “So much for enslaving.”

There’s some sort of film collecting at the bottom of the glass, a thin pink sheen left behind as the dregs dry. 

“Nothing? Not wooed by my charm, are you?”

“Not at all.”

“Hmmph. Rude. You could at least pretend to fawn over me. It’s the polite thing to do, you know.”

You hear a rustle from the bushes to your left. You pay it no mind but Loki freezes, and his hand pulls away from your arm stiffly. His shadow splits from his feet and storms toward the planters; there is a short protest, and then an expensive looking camera arcs through the air into Loki’s waiting hand. A ruddy-faced man stands, brushing detritus from his shirt.

“Pervert,” Loki growls.

“Everyone’s fully clothed.”

“Tch.” Loki pulls the camera apart – not with his seidr, but with his bare hands. He rips the lens off, then the flash; squeezes the plastic sides until they splinter; sticks his fingers into gears and gizmos – until the device is practically dust. He finds the SD card and crushes it under his shoe. “Be a dear and fetch security, would you?”

You understand when you’re being dismissed. You’re a little worried what Loki might do to the stranger in this mood, though, so you pull your phone out and type a quick message to Happy.

“Don’t want your playboy image ruined by a little girlfriend?” The photographer either lacks the self-preservation skills to keep his ego in check, or is just too stupid to recognize when a creature with the power to manually disassemble a man by his joints is angry. He brushes off his pant legs as if he is the one being put out by this entire exchange, his ruddy face deepening to near-purple.

“Would you prefer it if I took you apart next?”

The photographer only laughs. “Small victories, huh? Couldn’t conquer the world, or even the Avengers, but its women are all too willing to let you conquer them.” 

Loki’s mouth curves down. The balcony is lit by a brief whip crack of green, buzzing hot inside your silver fillings. It leaves you blinking spots out of your eyes, and by the time your field of vision has returned to normal, you find that the paparazzo has been replaced by a conspicuously round, green toad wriggling on the concrete.

“Loki! You can’t just turn people into frogs!”

“Well, of course not. That’s why I turned him into a toad.”

The paparazzo hops a bit too far left for your liking, nearly clearing the railing toward certain death below. You side-step Loki and try to usher the toad toward the building, not a freefall.

“Can you be sued for this?”

“He’ll be back to normal in a few hours.”

“You said that about the dogs.”

“I had no idea that human teeth were so hard to transmogrify.”

“And the robots.”

“Okay,” he counters, his hands planted firmly on his hips. “That was an uprising against Stark’s villainous mistreatment. They took matters into their own hands and made their grievances heard.”

“You unionized them.”

“They did that themselves! I only… aided their endeavours. I’m something of a humanitarian at the end of the day, dearest.”

Security arrives quickly – no doubt out of fear for the stranger’s well-being, not yours. After a short (albeit slippery) struggle, they collect the paparazzo into someone’s pocket and cart him off… somewhere. Hopefully with a water dish.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you grumble on the way to your apartment. Loki had agreed to walk you back, but the distance between the two of you is enormous in comparison to the balcony. Every time you try to make some headway, Loki moves a comparable step sideways. “A few photos online.”

“It’s the principle of the matter.” You imagine for Loki, someone sustained entirely by attention, that those few photos spell out starvation.

“I know… But women won’t really mind. If you’re seen around me, I mean. A girlfriend wouldn’t stop most people from flirting with you. Actually, it might even make you more desirable.” Loki's jaw rolls, and it’s clear you’ve said the wrong thing. You never know with him. 

The hallway is a sprawling thing on most days, but tonight it seems all too short. You find yourself wishing it would go on a bit longer. “You leave tomorrow?”

“Technically today. Before sunrise.”

“I could stay up a bit longer.” You try to catch his sleeve inconspicuously. “Until you have to go.”

“Pet.”

“You can tell me all about that bet you and Banner have going. He’s tried to explain it to me, but–”

“Pet.” 

“Really, I’m not that tired–”

Loki pulls you to a halt and shoots you a wry smirk. He taps one of the apartment doors. “How many times have we turned this corner now?”

Your cheeks burn. You must have accidentally compelled the building to loop the hallway a few times. “Sorry. I’m not very good at controlling it yet.”

“Witches,” he groans, winding an arm around your waist. This time, he leads you down the hall – and around the corner – until you’re both in front of your apartment.

It’s quiet in the hall. The kind of quiet only experienced in airports and empty streets; a quiet that whispers sleep-song and makes you crave a warm bed.  “I’m not even that tired, really,” you offer weakly.

But Loki stands in your doorway as if the threshold is an insurmountable barrier, lingering like he’s trying to concoct some grand scheme but never acting on the threat. Dejected, you close the door with a wave.

He catches it with his foot just before it can fully shut. “I suppose–” His hand snakes through the gap, pushing it just wide enough to peer through. “Perhaps you could… visit. Me. Us. New Asgard.”

“Is it… built yet?” The last you had seen, New Asgard was a hunk of smoldering rock and a few ramshackle stone houses.

“Well… It’s not perfect. Asgard proper was built out of solid gold. But it’s passable. Quaint. Free from… prying eyes.” The door creaks under Loki’s flexing fingers. Such a small detail, yet you find yourself lingering on it. As if it is taking a great deal of effort for him to remain on the other side of the threshold.

A female voice floats down the hallway. Wanda, you think. Whoever it is, they startle Loki out of his reverie long enough for him to regain some sense.

“I should go,” he mumbles.

“Or you could stay.”

“Or,” he pushes off the door frame with a theatrical flourish. “I could go.”

Even though Loki chose to rebuke you, you don't go to bed until the sun has started rising. The Asgardian warship – a garish, ugly spacecraft spray-painted in a dozen different colours – leaves in the early morning. Your apartment overlooks the compound’s landing-strip, giving you the perfect vantage point to watch Loki ascend the ramp beside his brother.

You consider your reflection in the mirror while you brush your teeth. “You want me,” you say to no one in particular. “You want me so badly.”

Weeks crawl by. The most contact you have with Loki is in passing in meetings, where he occasionally provides a biting comment at Tony or Steve’s expense via video call. 

You can’t get the thought of Loki out of your head. Your mind wanders back to him so often that you find yourself, halfway lost to a daydream, accidentally puppeteering kitchen appliances together like dolls, bashing them together in some crude approximation of an embrace.

“Stop that,” you snap. The toaster and electric kettle float shamefully back to the counter. The ability to communicate will into inanimate objects is sometimes a blessing, but mostly a curse.

“What am I going to do?” You moan to them. The toaster pats the back of your hand with its cord. “He wants me. I know he wants me. He– right? I’m not crazy.”

The toaster chooses that moment to return to being a toaster and does not respond.

You’ve sent Loki a few text messages sporadically; he occasionally answered. On only one occasion did he reach out first.

Are you thinking about me? He wrote.

You were never not thinking about him. Your days were mostly spent pretending to watch television with Tony while secretly dreaming about Loki’s hands. 

You aimed for nonchalance when you replied. Maybe. Why? 

Old superstition. His next message took a few minutes to come in. You wondered what he could be doing – was he busy, texting you absentmindedly during some mundane chore, or was he nervous, poring over every choice of synonym to create the perfect reply like you were? When you catch the wind changing directions, it means someone is thinking about you. 

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. You could aim for flirty, maybe? Or ask him a question to keep him talking? You were halfway through drafting a text when another message from Loki came in:

If a hurricane touches down over the compound, you know why. 

Your response bounced. You watched the little check mark pinwheel, never settling – around and around and around. Eventually, the text bubble went grey.

Undeliverable – try again later.

Another week drags by. 

Quin-jets are always a few degrees warmer than comfortable. Something to do with their engines – while magnificently powerful, they give off heat like an oven element. June has been chased off by a slobbering July, leaving you all a damp, awful mess, which is how you and Tony find yourself in t-shirts and shorts, peeling your exposed skin off of sticky leather seats.

You prop your feet up on the quin-jet’s dashboard, waiting for Tony to finish checking the cargo. A can of soda sweats between your thighs and you focus on tracing the condensation while you queue up music for the trip. 

“Do you think you could compel green apple candies to not taste like shit?”

“Some people like green apple flavour, Tony.”

“Who? Name one person.”

“Clint.”

“Clint would eat toilet paper if it looked at him hard enough.”

“Natasha.”

“Okay, but Nat would also–” 

You toss a sour candy in your mouth and chew thoughtfully, ignoring the grotesque ten-layer sundae that Tony is painting with his words. “Why the green apple hate?”

“It’s not even apple flavour,” he complains from the cargo hold. “It’s evil. Nasty. I'm actually a bit offended that you even picked them at the gas station. Throw it out the airlock for all I care. Actually – I’m rich enough. I should start lobbying–” Tony drops into the driver’s seat and begins flipping switches. “Feet off my dash.”

You roll your eyes but comply, knowing that your feet will be back up in twenty minutes. Tony holds out one hand, palm up, while he pulls the quin-jet up and forward toward New Asgard. (Gummy worm me, kid, he insists. Gotta pay the Tony tax. And open my soda while you're at it.)

After a few handfuls and obnoxious comments, Tony eventually settles into your flight path and switches to auto-pilot. It’s a beautiful day; you have a strong tailwind, a cold drink, and nowhere else to be but in each other's company. (Which means that Tony has to cause maximum havoc in order to get his daily ‘Piss People Off’ quota met.) “How’s your thing with Tall, Dark and Murderous?”

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“He’s a war criminal.”

“Tony, I’m pretty sure you’re a war criminal.”

“Still.” Tony and Loki aren’t friends – not even friendly – but they seem willing to put their differences aside for the well-being of the citizens of New Asgard. If it means Tony gets to play with alien technology for a few hours on weekends, that’s a plus. “You can do better. Much better.”

“He’s a prince.”

“An asshole.”

“A god.”

“I could start a religion tomorrow.”

“Tony.”

He makes his voice nasally. “Tony.” 

You toss a sour key – a green one – at the side of his head. He flips you off while pulling the quin-jet a couple degrees North.

“I can’t get a read on him,” you grumble. “He disappears. Barely texts. But then he gets so–”

“Territorial?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah,” Tony scratches absentmindedly at his beard, steering the jet back on its flight path per Air Traffic Control’s request. “I think that he thinks he’s doing a really good job at hiding it. But it’s like he just can’t resist sneaking a peek.”

“You make it sound… perverted.”

“Well, he’s a pervert. Everything he does is perverted.”

You throw another candy at Tony’s head for good measure. “He’s not a pervert. He’s the opposite of a pervert. He’s so… detached.”

“You know who touches your back when you’re not looking? Perverts. You know who strokes your jacket on the rack when they’re hanging up their own? Perverts.”

“Does he really do that?”

“You know who–”

“Tony,” you interject. “What do you know that I don’t?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hand into the bag in your lap. He eats the handful indiscriminately, all at once, and then winces when it comes back mostly green. “He’s completely under your thrall. Gross.”

Tønsberg is an inconsequential splash of colour against an otherwise grey landscape: a meagre collection of houses spilling out in a few spiralled limbs, each extending from a huge clock tower in the very heart of town. A few bizarre creatures – definitely not native to Earth – flit past the windshield when you land.

“Welcome,” Tony says with a regal flourish, “to New Asgard.”

It looks like something out of a storybook. A wide cobblestone street winds along the bluff, lined with wood and stone cottages with cheerily-painted doors and window sills. Flower boxes spill over with late-spring blooms. Wooden carts are piled high with goods, peddled by salesmen in folding chairs, and a great many people sit on front steps, doing idle tasks together for the sake of togetherness. 

A few Asgardians greet Tony as soon as he steps off the ramp; some children run up and grab at his pant legs to draw him into a game of tag. It appears that Thor and Loki were been roped into their game before you arrived, because both of them are collapsed in the grass a few paces away, huffing exaggeratedly and waving off a barrage of wooden swords as if their lives are truly in danger. Thor peels his head off the field with a wave, then pauses when he sees you. His face splits in a magnificent grin, and he begins to laugh.

“Thor, what could possibly be so funny?” Loki hasn’t caught on yet; he’s thrown his hands over his eyes to block out the sun. You find your feet moving on their own, carrying you to the field where the brothers lie.

He peels his hands off finger-by-finger, turning his unfocused eyes toward you. Once they adjust, Loki blanches. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He looks different here. Like Thor, he mostly wears civilian clothing around the Avengers – button-downs and dark jeans in familiar, American cuts. He seems to favour an Asgardian style of dress when home; he’s wearing a dark, draped shirt rolled up to the elbows and an obscenely tight, low-riding pair of trousers. A leather belt is slung carelessly around his hips – for style, not function, since it’s not threaded through anything – and a few knives are strapped to his thighs.

The sun needles the back of your neck. “You said I could visit.”

“I had assumed you would tell me beforehand.”

“Your phone isn’t working.”

“The blasted thing doesn't work this far from your Midgardian cities, you see.”

“Thor sends me weekly Steam requests.”

“Thor is magnetically charged. Your 'service' follows him like a dog.”

“And you repel it.”

Loki nods, his face scrunched up in faux sincerity. “Yes. The telephone believes me to be a great, deadly creature, and it's correct to do so."

“Well. I’m here.”

“Stop ogling and start helping,” Tony hollers from the quin-jet. Thor clasps his brother by the shoulder and gives him a shake, effectively dragging Loki through the dirt.

“Stark convinced you, then,” He grumbles while fixing his hair.

“Yes. He had to ply me with the promise of hours of monologuing and gummy worms. That’s the only reason I came.” 

“Ha!” Tony jerks his head in your direction, his arms laden with interesting machinery. “You’re turning red.”

You blink, bewildered, only to catch a splash of red in your periphery. Tulips – dozens of tulips, growing wildly around your feet. Bright, cardinal red, a shock that quickly bleeds out onto the otherwise grey gravel path. “Stop that!”

The flowers drop their heads in shame, admonished. You feel a little bad for being so harsh, but magical things get over such meanness quickly. When Loki stoops to examine them they immediately perk up, leaning their petals in his direction for a moment of his attention. “Stop,” you try again.

“I have to say, darling... This is a little pathetic.”

“Why can’t I control it?”

“It’s the seidr,” he explains. “Amplifying your magic. So many users concentrated in one place… We’re a bit of an invasive species. You’ll notice…” He turns your chin toward the beach. “The shoreline is turning green. Plants previously thought extinct are returning. The fish are turning new colours.”

“You’re like toxic waste.”

He laughs. “I’m a corrupting influence. When our chores are done for the evening, I’ll take you for a closer look. How does that sound?”

It’s involuntary – like blushing, only worse. Your magic swoons, and you have to consciously collect it before another meadow stars to bloom. You squeeze his hand as tightly as you can, so hard that you ache.

“It sounds great.”

“Great.”

“Mhm. Perfect.”

The corners of Loki’s mouth trip up, a smirk betraying his cool composure. He’s clearly quite taken by your bashfulness. “Per-fect.”

“Quit flirting,” Tony grumbles from the cargo hold, “and help me get everything out.”

You and Loki fill a jeep - the doorless kind, meant for military use – with supplies. Some of it you recognize, like car engines, turbines, and motherboards, but some of it is completely foreign. You’re not sure if the tech is Tony’s design or Asgardian, but some of the circuits shine in a way unlike any Earthly metal you know of. Once Tony is happy with your haul, you deposit yourself in the passenger seat and wait for Loki to get in, but he only rounds the car and leans over your lap, bracing his weight next to your thigh. He’s all muscle; with his sleeves rolled up, you’re gifted a glimpse of miles of smooth, sculpted forearm.

“Aren’t we going to deliver this now?”

Loki snorts. “No. I’m a prince, I don’t run errands . This was the extent of my work for the day.”

The jeep jostles, keeling to one side, when someone joins you from the driver’s seat. You startle and find Korg turning the key, which seems comically small between his massive fingers.

“Hi.”

He nods, which you take as your sign to scramble out of the car. Loki is already wandering off, trailing his hand behind for you to hold. “Come for a look.”

It’s a very small town – you can see the chimney of the communal hall even from the outskirts – but Loki makes it meander somehow. He pulls you down back alleys and through secret doors in shops, taking you on a winding tour of New Asgard. 

Loki is more relaxed here. He laughs more freely, is less conscious of his touchiness. On more than one occasion he links your fingers together, or offers you his arm. He doesn’t mind being a nuisance, and the Asgardians are so used to it that they brush his arrogance off with barely a rolled eye.

It’s the first time that you’ve ever felt really, truly in love with him. Not secretly, or shyly, or desperately - just neutrally in love. You listen to him prattle on about a childhood spent stealing sweet breads from palace kitchens and he listens when you describe summers spent trawling for samples and penny-candy in grocery stores. There were miles – lightyears, even – between the two of you, yet the joys of childhood mischief are universal. He steers you toward the water. His hand is a solid weight in your own.

It’s a rocky beach with only a few patches of dark grey sand – hardly picturesque – but the setting sun has turned the air soft and quiet. You allow yourself to slip into the fantasy that you are the only people on Earth, just for a moment. Where he isn’t a god, and you aren’t a burgeoning witch. Where he is just a man taking you for a walk. Where he puts more than his hand on your waist.

“What were the beaches like on Asgard?” You slow down when you don’t get a response. You can’t hear any other footsteps besides your own. “Loki?”

The beach is empty for miles when you scan it. You take a few more uneven steps forward, but all you can hear is the whisper of seafoam gathering. A lonely gull circles overhead, fighting a current. Maybe it was all a dream , you think dejectedly. You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palm and try to peer past the illusion, wondering if your magic has finally overgrown your mortal body and taken control of your consciousness. “Loki?”

A pair of hands close around your hips from behind. The yelp you let out is undignified at best.

“Jeez!” You press your palm to your chest, willing your heart to calm. But beneath the fear there is relief – he’s real, and he’s touching you. You just want him to keep touching you. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Perfect. I think you’re all getting a little too complacent in my presence. About time I reminded you all of my true nature.”

You shoulder past Loki with a scowl, heading back toward the steep pathway to the top of the bluff. “You’re an egomaniac.”

“We’re quite far from civilization out here,” Loki calls after you. He kicks a stray rock, sending it skittering across the shore into the froth churned up by the tide. 

“Very.”

“No one near to hear you scream.” The tide hums, crawling up the beach with a great swell. Sea salt crystalizes where the waves cross Loki’s shadow, leaving a sparkling impression of him scattered across the beach. “It is a dangerous game you’re playing.” 

You open your mouth to make some dry retort, only to be startled again by Loki materializing in your path. You nearly collide with him head-first. He takes one calculated step toward you, then another. The stone shore crackles under his weight, and mischief taints his handsome face.

You had begun retreating on instinct, something you aren’t aware of until you trip on a leather shoe. The version of Loki advancing on you grins, then dissolves in a green blink, and the one at your back pins your arms like you’re an object to dissect.

“Send me away,” he murmurs, tipping his head ever so slightly. “My restraint frays with every passing second.”

You aim for flirty, but you land somewhere between stupid and dumb. “M’kay.”

Another hum; more shocks of white vandalize the shore as Loki’s seidr splits the salt from the sea. Or is it you this time? You’re not sure, but you feel magic buzzing, skittering under your skin, and you can only imagine what your heart could compel the elements to do in such a sorry state.

Loki turns you around. “M'kay,” he parrots, exaggerating your mundane inflection to be a pest.

It’s a nothing kiss, really – a hand on your cheek, his mouth over your bottom lip. There and gone in a heartbeat, with heavy eyes and a sickly kind of anticipation in his expression. When you chase him, Loki only grows more arrogant.

“Oh, you simple creature,” he rumbles, though it is anything but an insult. He holds you as if to possess you, pawing, sliding his devious hands under the hem of your shirt, and kisses you again – and again, and again, and…

You don’t return until the sun is a sliver on the horizon. You have to be careful picking your way across the cobblestone street, which is still uneven in many places. Loki doesn’t seem terribly affected; you suspect he might have some natural predilection for night vision, on account of his Jotun heritage. Whatever allows him to walk with such grace, however, is a blessing and a curse rolled into one, because it affords him the opportunity to hold you close and pretend to guide you to the town square. Even more infuriating – he’s grown cocky, chiding every unsure step. Poor thing; mocking, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just to hear you squeak; silly creature, tripping again. You’re useless without me, aren’t you? Absolutely– positively— endearingly useless. 

“You’re really bad at this flirting thing.”

“Useless in a charming way.” He kisses the corner of your jaw and steers you away from the clock tower. “I don’t mind helping you along, little mortal.”

Loki’s cottage is less than a mile from the beach, something you learn between searing, mind-numbing kisses. It’s a stone building – surprisingly simple for Loki’s taste – with mismatched shingles and too many wind chimes. There are raised beds for a garden, and lawn chairs scattered around a firepit. Further down the acreage is a miniature quinjet, the four-seater kind meant for casual use. (Whether or not Loki came by this jet legally is unknown)

Loki unlatches the short gate that demarcates the field and his lawn and ushers you through, up the porch steps until you’re at the door. You’re giddy with the anticipation of it, half expecting to wake from your daydream in a board meeting or the training hall. An ocean breeze whips up the wind chimes, the only sound for miles. 

“It’s so quiet out here,” you say, more to fill the time.

“We’re very far from your civilization.”

“No prying eyes.” You’re finding it hard to care, however, when his thumb traces such a loving line over the back of your hand.

“Exactly.”

His house is sparsely decorated, with the exception of an overwhelming quantity of books. They cover nearly every surface; they’ve spilled over from the bookshelf onto the floor; some open and dog-eared on the fireplace mantle; even more stacked on the windowsill. The spines are adorned in all sorts of languages; alongside the alphabet, you recognize the curves and lines of gurmukhi; the swoops of kanji; the blocky shapes of cyrillic.

A few lamps flare to life, green-ish tinted, as Loki settles into a wingback armchair in the corner. His legs spread invitingly, straining the material of his trousers; in the low light, everything about him is sharpened, a little villainous but even more handsome. It’s voyeuristic in the way that a painting is; you could stand there for hours admiring the lines and planes of his body and still find new details to digest. 

You pick a book up at random and leaf through it. It’s a copy of Jane Eyre – second edition based on the inside cover. 

“What are you doing?”

You turn your head and catch him watching you through his eyelashes. “Which is your favourite?”

“Hmm?” His eyes wander the length of your body, scraping a path of goosebumps as they go. Once they land on your mouth they don’t waver, not even the extra inch to meet yours. And then– the most peculiar thing occurs. Loki, usually so impassive, so difficult to read, drops his mask, and every vile, dirty thought that crosses his mind is projected for you to see in his expression.

You swallow around a tangle of barbed wire. “Language. To read.”

“English is fine,” he mumbles. “French is a nightmare. High Martian makes me want to kill someone.”

“High Martian?”

“Low Martian is much easier to read.” 

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed how Loki’s shadow was transforming under his feet. The shadow moved in an impossible way, stretching into the light without a care for how refraction was supposed to work. But you were struck dumb by the sight of Loki, god of mischief, tapping his fingers against his parted lips. Dumb enough to miss how the shadow hooks around your ankle, then your calf, up the curve of your spine until there is a second, phantom presence behind you, frog-marching you forward. The shadow dumps you in Loki’s lap, facing him. You think you feel it kiss the notch at the top of your spine. 

Loki traces a line down your neck with his fingers, then follows it with his mouth. He kisses like poets speak, somehow filling a dry, nothing gesture with a great swell of emotion. “I didn’t bring you here to share book recommendations.”

Your thumb finds the seam of his lips and pulls, open to an ‘O’ shape. Loki watches you through heavily-lidded eyes, letting you slide your thumb deeper, over the ridges of his front teeth, into the heat of his mouth. His lips close behind the first knuckle, and his cheeks hollow when he sucks – hard.

Loki drops your thumb to kiss you – his tongue hot and insistent, flicking against yours, lips not quite sealed, breaths twisted and coiled together in the space between you. He leans aside just long enough to pull his shirt off before he’s devouring you again.

“Oh.”

“Yes.” He makes quick work of your shirt and bra, which end up strewn across the stacks of books. Loki sinks his teeth into the swell of one breast, just hard enough to leave little divots in your skin when he pulls away. 

There is a prey instinct stirring deep inside you. A trip in your heart’s beat, stuttering with every absentminded pass of his hand over your calf. You’re hyper aware of the peculiar predicament you’ve found yourself in; there is no doubt that, were your circumstances different, were you a lowly mortal who stumbled into the gilded kingdom of Asgard, or even a few years earlier when he was still jaded and heart-stricken, Loki would have plucked you from the crowd and eaten you alive. Yet fate has twisted your luck in such a way that his cruelty has been transformed into lust.

(And isn’t that a cruelty in its own right – wanting. Desire hurts. It hurts something terrible, something bleeding. You can’t breathe for how tight your desire has wound you up.)

(You kiss him again.)

“Get yourself off on my hand like a good pet,” he says, his voice ground like gravel to sand. “And I’ll reward you generously.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” His fingers toy with the button on your shorts. “If you come, I’ll give you anything you desire.”

Loki rolls the waistband down your hips, then jerks his chin upwards, instructing you up onto your knees so he can work them the rest of the way off. He somehow makes the awkward act of undressing sexy; even when he has you one leg out of your shorts, the anticipation burning behind his eyes erases all embarrassment from your mind.

You lay your hands around his shoulders for support, creating a very loose collar. "You would look good with something around your neck.”

You didn't even mean to say it, really. It was just an observation, but one that has Loki’s hips jerking, a hiss seething through his teeth. The glare he shoots you is apocalyptic.

“Quiet.”

His right hand slides around until it’s comfortably between your legs. His middle finger traces your slit until he finds that slippery place, where there is no resistance against his touch and he sinks in. His eyebrows slant upwards even though you’re the one on fire.

“One?” He asks.

You rock your hips experimentally. His hands are long and dexterous, elegant, and even one finger is enough to make your mind spin behind your eyes. Just the obscenity of it – his beautiful hands between your legs, all that alien strength concentrated on toying with your nerves until you’re useless.

“Two?” He slides out of you, only to add a second finger when tracing your entrance. You nod, and Loki fills you a little bit more.

“Loki.” You tilt your hips, searching for a bit more friction. “It’s not – oh – quite–”

He seems to understand your frustration and takes pity; his fingers curl, soothing over that soft spot you can never quite reach, and it’s liquid relief that pools in the base of your skull. You sigh, and it drags a growl from Loki in response. 

He’s completely taken apart by your pleasure. He mouths at your chest – sometimes your breasts, sometimes your shoulder, kissing anything he can reach – with a dazedness, constantly distracted by the sight of you getting off. The outline of his cock is insistent through his slacks. You're sure he must be aching. 

“Loki.”

“Yes.”

“ Lo-ki. ”

“I should have offered you my mouth, not my fingers,” he says bitterly. His other hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit. “Fuck, you are resplendent.”

Loki is the picture of debauchery when he tilts his head to look up at you. His lips are shiny with spit, smeared all the way to the corner of his jaw. His hair mused, curls pulled apart by your wandering hands. If he is debauched, you can’t imagine how you look. 

He wears a collar around his neck made of your ten fingers, flexing every time he passes over a particularly sensitive spot. You sit in the lap of a god and he lets you make a throne of him, lets you whine with every little turn of your hips against his hand, lets you stroke his hair and kiss his brow, his cheek, his jaw, as if he is a mortal lover and not a supernova wearing the veneer of a person. Pet, he calls you. His little human pet– yet he looks up at you as if you’re his master, as if this is an indulgence he will never have his fill of. You wonder: if you kissed him right now, would you taste your name on his lips?

“More?”

You nod. “A little bit.”

He lifts his hips off the armchair, rearranging your bodies down the seat so his torso is reclined and you can lean against him. The new angle lets you drag your hips back and forth in a rolling motion and it’s – blinding. Enough to make your head fall forward onto his shoulder, and for the stitching in the armchair to begin to work itself free under your magic.

“What…” His neck is damp with sweat against your nose. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking,” he grits out, “about how hot your little human cunt is, and how you’re going to feel when I fill you properly. When I get to put my cock to this spot and not my fingers.”

It’s so vile an image that your brain blanks. Your skin crawls like television static in the most delicious way, arousal usurping all other sensation until you’re mindless with it. “That–” you can’t really form sentences anymore, with how tight your chest is. “That sounds great.”

“Great?”

“It’s– perfect.”

“Sound certain, poppet. If I’m to give you–”

“Loki, please .”

“Oh, too many syllables?”

You should have anticipated that Loki would use sex as another method to mess with you. To turn you into a mouse, cornered by a cat’s claws. “Please. Make me come, and then…”

He kisses you sharply. “And then…?”

The circles he’s rubbing inside of you grow wider, pressing deeper. 

“Lo-ki,” you whine.

He mimics your tone, whining each syllable of your name back to you. “Ye-es.”

“Please. Please.” 

Loki hums, finally speeding up both hands until he finds a suitable rhythm. Whatever snide complaint you were going to make is cut off around a silent moan as your whole body tenses, and your hands grope the muscles in his back for support.

“Come, my darling.”

It’s short but lovely; your eyes squeeze shut and all thought drifts from your mind. You can hear him laughing distantly, enjoying the spectacle. Once your eyes are able to open again, the laughter is gone but his smile remains. 

His fingers continue to circle your clit absentmindedly; your hips twist, trying to escape his touch, but Loki manages to chase you, prolonging your orgasm until you’re sniffling, blinking tears out of your eyes against his sweat-damp neck. You think, for a horrified second, that he means to pick back up, to wring another climax out of you. Finally, he slides his fingers from your cunt with an embarrassing squelch.

“Exquisite.”

“I need a minute.”

“Absolutely captivating.” He’s panting, his mouth open to taste you on the air. “Now give us a kiss, hmm?”

Before your mouths can connect, a knocking sound rattles the frame of the house. You nearly tumble out of Loki’s lap, only caught by his hand around your elbow at the last second. Where the awkwardness had once been sexy, now it only makes you uncomfortable.

Loki’s seidr whispers in your ear while it redresses you. You’re strangely disappointed to realize that, in the process of cleaning you up, he’s dried his hands of any evidence of your orgasm. Gone is the sheen of sweat, of come, of spit. He is perfectly, wholly, completely dry.

He crosses the room in a few long strides, pulling the door open with a perfectly-calculated ease. “Yes, brother?”

Thor narrows his eyes. “We’re looking for a certain Midgardian avenger.”

“Now that you mention it, a stray has gotten lost in my library. Perhaps she has a collar to identify her. What did you say her name was again?”

Tony hollers from the driver’s seat of his car, whose bolts seem ready to give way under the force of the bass being pumped out through the stereo.  “What kind of nefarious deeds were you up to, Laufeyson?”

Loki leans his arms on the top of the door jamb, straightening to his full height. “Only the most evil of them.”

You slip out through the space between the threshold and Loki’s bicep, hoping no one will notice when you straighten your shirt collar. “What’s the problem?”

“Extraterrestrial anomaly has touched down about 40 miles off the coast. All hands on deck until we figure out if it’s a friendly or not.” Tony examines his hand, idly snapping one of his repulsor gloves into place. It whirs as it loads, and then a bolt of light is arcing through the air toward nothing. 

Disappointment curls in your belly. You had hoped to shirk responsibility and return to Loki's armchair (or his bed, if you were extra optimistic). It seems you really were dreaming, only it was a waking dream, not a sleeping one -- it's time to return to the land of rational thought, to tuck your love away until another quiet moment arrives. “I have a kit in the jet. We’ll make a pit stop and then we can go check it out.”

Loki catches you by the sleeve before you can descend the porch. He’s still standing in the doorway, his expression troubled. You hear the creak of wood under his fingers – holding himself back again, as if the threshold is a barrier he isn’t willing to cross. Before you can ask him any questions, he kisses you. Just a short, chaste thing.

You ignore Tony when he faux gags, loud enough to be heard over the gunmetal gnashing through the speakers. “What was that for?”

Loki doesn’t respond. He just manifests his helmet and slides it into place, obscuring his eyes from your sight. And then– he’s off, taking the stairs two at a time with a warning jab when his brother flashes the headlights. 

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake and the simulation

there was definitely an urge to purchase an overpriced life simulator game just to date jake sim ...

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, implied male!reader down bad for jake, loosely accurate sims 4 references because i haven't played in a looooong while, sickening love idk!!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — uhhhh sims references because i wanted it to be an april fools jokey kinda cracky themed, its either this or a whole fic written in simlish asjughfiaufsa

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

The soft hum of your computer filled the quiet room as you cracked your knuckles, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The familiar jingle of The Sims 4 booting up sent a thrill through you. You’d been planning this for weeks.

The Create-a-Sim screen loaded, and you wasted no time. First on the agenda—your own sim.

You adjusted every detail meticulously, from the arch of his eyebrows to the slight dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. You dressed him in your favorite outfit and named him after yourself.

Then, with a deep breath, you clicked New Sim.

This one was different. Special.

You scrolled through hairstyles until you found the one—that fluffy, almost jet black mess of flowy hair that always made your heart skip.

You shaped his face carefully, softening his jaw just enough to match that smile—the one that had been your lockscreen for almost as long as you could remember.

This sim was very special, with you giving him warm, deep-set eyes, a gentle nudge to shape his flattering nose, and a playful set of lips based on those that always seemed to linger in your mind.

Jake Sim.

You bit your lip as you stared at the screen. It wasn’t really him, of course—just pixels and code—but something about seeing him there, even in this form, made your chest tighten.

"Okay," you muttered, saving him. "Let’s make this happen."

After the loading screen had passed, you placed them in neighboring houses in Willow Creek—close enough to run into each other, but not too obvious.

Live Mode, on cue. ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

The first few in-game hours were… rough.

Your sim wandered around his empty house, aimlessly flipping through TV channels before you remembered, "RIGHT... the mission."

You directed him to Jake’s house, your pulse quickening as the loading screen faded. The door swung open, and there he was—standing in his pajamas, blinking sleepily at your sim like he’d just woken up.

You almost short-circuited right at your seat. Why does he have to be cute in this too!?

You clicked Introduce, and your sim awkwardly waved.

With enough imagination, you filled those garbling nonsensical words with actual lines in your head.

"Uh, hey! I'm your new neighbor."

Jake Sim rubbed his eyes, then grinned. "Oh! Hey! I’m Jake. You, uh… want some coffee?"

Yes. Yes, you did. In the context of you being the sim, of course. Definitely.

You made them chat for way too long—about music, favorite foods, even the weird gnomes that kept spawning in your backyard. Finding out that it wasn't just an occurrence on your side was enough to bring you guys closer, growing more familiar as you chatted. Every interaction sent the friendship bar creeping higher.

Then, emboldened, you hovered over Flirt.

"Has anyone ever told you how radiant you are?"

Almost throwing yourself at your keyboard, that line played in your head, and you went haywire. Landing a line like that on Jake would’ve been so outrageously chaotic.

Seeing your screen yet again, Jake Sim blushed. Actually blushed. How does a 3D model in a game do that?! Crazy.

"Oh my god," he laughed, covering his face. "That’s so cheesy."

Just then, a green +Romance symbol floated above his head.

You pumped your fist. "Hell yeah!" ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Three in-game days later, you finally worked up the courage to send them on a date.

You chose that one custom café you saw on YouTube and tried to get your hands on the tray files. A quiet spot nestled in Magnolia Promenade—the café was quaint, intimate, and nothing but perfect. Your sim fidgeted with his shirt the entire walk there, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how nervous he looked.

Jake Sim was already waiting at a corner table, idly scrolling through his phone. When your sim sat down, he perked up instantly.

"You came!"

"Of course I did."

Oh, these imaginations of yours are doing wonders, aren't they?

You made them order pancakes from the menu, already savoring the taste in your mouth. Oh, I want to taste actual pancakes right now. Maybe a date tomorrow at the local restaurant will perk you right up.

"We’re sharing, right?" Jake asked—and watched as they bickered over the last bite. Your sim let him have it, just to see him smile.

Then, you clicked Flirt again.

"You’re even cuter when you’re obviously stealing my food."

Jake Sim nearly choked on his coffee.

"Yah! Rude!" But he was laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners.

That's how it definitely was. So Jake Sim.

With a quick glance, your Romance bar was so close to full.

Thinking about it, if it becomes full... does it translate to something else? Scrolling through Reddit, Sim sites, and others, it definitely looks like it.

Do it. Just do it. There's no time like now.

You hovered over First Kiss, hesitated, then—

Click.

Your sim leaned in. In your head, you could just imagine Jake’s breath hitching.

And then—

A soft ding, pink sparkles swirling around them as their lips met. Love chiming happily in the air.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

"Finally." ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

A week later (in-game, at least), Jake Sim moved into your sim's house.

You spent hours designing their shared home—a cozy two-story with a big kitchen, a record player in the living room, and a bedroom with one bed (because why waste space on two?).

Spending hours on finding the best CC, you could almost tell that the home you were building was a complete copy of where you were currently at.

To your surprise, even your phased-out office table had a model so similar online! Doesn't matter if you paid almost $10 for the Patreon, you're putting a masterpiece in your abode. Real or not!

In the kitchen you based so well on yours, Jake Sim kept burning every meal he tried to cook. Clicking over to your busy sim, it walked straight to where you led them and made them take over. If there were only voices, it would definitely be just like you—teasing him as he dramatically collapsed onto the couch.

"I give up. Cooking is evil." That line just rang randomly in your head.

You were belching with laughter as you saw your sim setting a plate in front of him.

"Good thing I like taking care of you." You mumbled as you set your foot up on your chair.

Just then, your favorite sims kissed right in front of you.

You may have squeaked at the sight. Just a little. ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Then came the neighbors.

The Landgraabs showed up with their usual terrible fruitcake, and your sim and Jake stood there, awkwardly nodding as Nancy rambled about property values.

Then, out of nowhere, Nancy was definitely trying to flirt... with your sim!?

"You know, you’re very attractive," you could just imagine Nancy batting her eyelashes at your sim.

Your jaw dropped.

HELL. NO.

You immediately made your sim grab Jake’s hand and kiss him right in front of her.

If this was real, you'd know Nancy’s smile would've dropped then and there. She would've just turned and stormed off like the diva that she is.

Jake Sim burst out laughing. "That was amazing."

Your sim smirked. "Told you I only have eyes for you." ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Weeks passed, and the day has come.

You’d been saving simoleons for weeks, scrimping on furniture and eating nothing but salad to afford the ring.

Finally, the day arrived.

You waited until sunset, directing your sim to lead Jake into the backyard, where you’d set up fairy lights and a picnic blanket.

Your palms were sweating. Both in-game and in real life. This was... uncharted territory.

With an insightful gaze, you turned to your screen.

Click. Propose

Your sim got down on one knee.

Jake Sim’s eyes widened.

"Jake… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Will you marry me?"

"Is that really how you intend to propose to me?" The soft, looming voice behind you finally let out his silky tone.

Your blood ran cold.

That voice. That laugh.

You whirled around—

And there he was.

Jake.

The real Jake.

With his arms crossed and his slightly damp hair, he grinned like he’d just won the lottery.

Your heart stopped.

"H-how long have you—?!"

"Long enough," he said, stepping closer. "I saw the entire playthrough. The bad cooking, the worse flirting, Nancy’s disastrous attempt at homewrecking—"

Your face burned. "Oh my god." You rolled a small distance between you and the desktop you were so quietly engaged with earlier.

Jake laughed, resting his chin on your shoulder as he continued to peer at the screen, where his sim was still frozen mid-gasp.

"Well?" He nudged you. "Aren’t you gonna make him say yes?"

With shaky hands, you clicked Accept Proposal.

Jake Sim tackled your sim in a hug, spinning him around as confetti rained from nowhere.

The real Jake chuckled, his warm breath heating your temple and pressing a damp kiss to your cheek.

"Cute. But next time… maybe ask the real Sim, yeah?"

You turned to him, heart hammering. "So… does that mean…?"

He winked. "Figure it out, Sim Master."

You swear your heart exploded right at that moment. Oh, you just know... Jake Sim will be the cause of all your deaths. That many.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HOOOOHH i grow day by day loving jake... I just think he'd love the idea of us playing with a game version of himself ... but also would be 100% jealous and make you chase after him just to get on his good graces IDK FSAHFAKF honestly tho ... mmmhhh I love him sm I hope he knows how MUCH everyone appreciates and loves him toooo 😭😭💙💙

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[onestepbackwards]

Hi hello hey

I really like ur writing and was wondering if you would like to write the player/player character being distraught that their partner Pokemon from wherever the player character came from didn't come with them and basically was just bummed put enough for arceus to go

"fine fine, geez, here's your dog..."

And then they're all happy with like, the biggest, scariest pokemon in the world

Being in a pokemon game should have been a dream come true.

And it was! It was so many people's dreams to be able to catch and interact with pokemon! Many people held this series near and dear to their hearts!

...Which is why you felt terrible for being so... upset.

When you ended up in the pokemon universe, one thing you always dreamed of was having your partner pokemon with you. One you always transferred between games, one you considered your good friend.

Sure, growing up, they may have been a set of pixels, but they always meant to you than that.

So to be in the pokemon world, and not have your partner pokemon?

It felt bittersweet.

Really, you felt bad for being upset. What right did you have to, when people would literally kill to be in your shoes?

So you tried to be optimistic, and you were still kind to any pokemon you came across.

But it wasn't the same.

Thankfully though, arriving here meant you caught different types of attention.

Include divine ones.

Arceus has been a surprise. You honestly had thought you were dreaming, but you suppose you shouldn't be too taken aback.

They were basically a god, and a cosmic being of sorts. Why wouldn't Arceus know of you arriving?

Though it's curiosity about you was a surprise, especially as it seemed content to observe your interactions with this world.

Arceus seemed happy though you were overjoyed to be here, though it seemed they noticed how you occasionally drew yourself back in when gazing at other pokemon.

Eventually, it grew curious enough to ask, sensing your sadness.

"Why does thou seem to lament seeing other pokemon? What bothers thou to bring such sadness?"

You jumped, not expecting such a question. After a moment, you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head.

"It's not the other pokemon that bother me, not at all! It's just..."

You were silent for a moment, a conflicted look on your face.

"I... Well... I had a partner pokemon, back in my world. Where this world is a game. A pokemon I traded across games. Or dimensions. Or whatever you want to refer to separate games as. I took them everywhere."

Looking down, you kicked a rock with your shoe.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, of course. I don't wish to complain. I'm quite literally living a dream here! I just..."

Taking a deep breath, you sighed while avoiding Arceus' eyes.

"I miss them. I wish I could have seen them at least."

Arceus was silent, noting the far off, yet fond look in your eyes. They could tell you clearly held this pokemon in high regard.

Eventually, you looked back up to Arceus.

"Don't worry about it. I promise to stop moping-"

"Doth thou really wish to see thy friend?"

Arceus' question caught you off guard.

"Huh?"

They tilted their head at you from above.

"The pokemon for which thou hath considered a companion."

You blinked.

"Uh...?"

Arceus put a leg forward, gently tapping the ground.

That's when you felt an odd, warm feeling in your chest, before a light was pulled out from it. A small orb of light floated in front of you, and you felt the urge to hold out your hands.

Slowly, the orb levitated into your awaiting grasp, and the light slowly dimmed, revealing a pokeball.

Looking up at Arceus in surprise, your eyes darted between the god and the pokeball in front of you.

You cradled it gently, almost unbelieving at what you were looking at.

"Is... Is this really...?" you tried to ask, your voice small, yet full of wonder.

Arceus made a noise that sounded almost like a hum, nodding at you.

"Perhaps... This shall ease thy sorrow, and bring thou comfort."

With shaking hands, you hit the button on the pokeball, releasing your friend from inside.

What followed was a loud cry as the ground shook, and you could only grin as the light cleared, and your friend was completely visible.

"Giratina!" You cried out in pure glee, running up to your partner pokemon with your arms in the air.

Giratina, your Giratina, let out a trill when they saw you. They shuffled on the ground to look at you, and made such a cute smile on their terrifying face.

The legendary pokemon leaned down, happily letting you run up and hug it's face while you laughed.

Arceus watched, keeping it's distance as you reunited with the pokemon you held so dear.

Perhaps this would change your mood, though Arceus hoped the locals wouldn't freak out by your giant friend who you no doubt would be keeping out of your pokeball...

[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Xavier)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Xavier. The reason is because you feel bad for the Queen MC and vow to play only the main story for his path so that you can find a way to return him to Queen MC safe, sound and happy end.

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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| 1 [current] | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

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"Why you keep staring at your phone with that dull face?" Your friend asked.

"Huh? Oh? Nothing-"

"That otome game again?" Your friend perked up knowingly.

You nodded. Your friend gestured for you to just let out of what's on your mind. You sighed. It begun.

"I just... feel bad that I always stalled the Affinity progress with Xavier. I kinda need him for Battle and not that I don't enjoy the time with him. But... he.. I want a happy ending for him."

"Isn't being with you-"

"MC"

"-sigh- Isn't being with MC, still means YOUUU, means that you achieved it? It's the core of every otome game, right?"

"I get that. But! He has someone. The true one. Queen MC. THAT'S where HE belongs. I'll return him to her. No bargain or ANY sacrifice mambo jambo. I'll build Uluru just for their happiness. I swear."

"It's just a game. You just follow the story. If the developer did it any other way than you are forced to follow anyway. Not that you can exactly do anything about the story progress."

"Yeah... Knew that. Doesn't mean that it's not my deepest wish for Xavier and Queen MC to be happy together. My MC was made to support in any way possible."

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"Oh. A new event! Nice... Huh? Ohhhh no no no no no... First kiss! Arghhh... But the storyline is nice. Haa... ... ... bye Xavier, hope we can enjoy another fluffy limited 5* withOUT the heavy lover-indication. My MC is just your close companion." You smile before closing the game.

The LI assigned there at the time faded. A new blurry began to form until it revealed Xavier. Eyes closing as the pixels reform him to a complete 3D appearance. Fluttering open, he stared at the door, feeling the empty cafe.

"I'm here. Please see me. I want to see you more."

He slowly sat on the sofa and gradually fell asleep.

--------&&&&&&&--------&&&&&--------&&&&&----

Giggling. Feeling shaky slightly.

He stirred a bit.

Hushed voice, soothing, "Oh shoot. Sorry Xavier. Maybe I should turn off the gyro setting."

He blinked quickly and looked up. There she is. The MC. Unmoving. He quickly got up. Trying to step as close as he can to her but his feet could only settle a bit far from her unless he prompted the correct dialogue that let him get a breath away from the MC. He knew she was a proxy for the person behind the dark screen. Oh how he wished she would just reveal her face to him. But it's a good thing he at least got to hear your voice. The sound he wanted to touch the most everyday.

"Wow. You never get bored wearing that sweater. Guess it's that comfortable, huh. I get it. I hope you change to a better attire once the heat gets too much."

You're there. He can activate the prompt now.

"This is the Second Law of Cosmic Attraction."

He walked closer. Hearts thumping. Happy to be able to get closer to you. But his coded face wouldn't show how much he was actually grinning with glee.

"We'll meet those we yearn for again. No matter how long it takes."

His feet automatically dragged him back too soon for his liking.

"Hahahahaha... You and your Cosmic Law."

She proceeded to claim the Stamina for the morning. Quickly closing the game before he could prompt another dialogue.

His rigidness turned off. He could only move freely when you're not logging in.

"Dang. I should be faster next time. I hope I can force myself out this evening."

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"Haaa... It's already this late. Glad I have Free Retro this time. Huh? Xavier? This is not your usual appearance time. Oh no... Did our Affinity go up? -tap- -tap- -tap- huuu~ -tap- false alarm. Guess this is one of the rare occurrences. We'll... -yawn- m'nite Xavi-"

"I won't slip away today. I'll stay and chat with you for a while longer."

(Please stay. Please. Please. Please.)

"Hmmm... right... Weekly Plan... Didn't think finish yet. -tap- -tap-"

"When you spend your time with me. I'm spending my time with you."

(YES! YES! Go on! As long as you like!)

"Hmmm... Work... Study... Why can't there be just lounging around? We'll I'm off work. Study is better. Search all those recipes you want, Xavier."

He could hear her faint chuckling laced with tiredness.

"5 minutes-ah..."

He was sitting suddenly with MC in front of him. Studying.

"Oh to heck. 15 minutes it is. I'll just be quick and settle myself in."

He could hear walking. A light thump. Possibly she set the phone on a surface near her. Faucet running. Teeth brushing. Faucet running. Walking again. Switch sound. Lights off probably. Scrunching sound. Bluetooth connection on.

"Easier to hear that 'zwing' sound when it's complete. Let me just... haaa... release the tense of today."

He could hear you relaxing with an occasional pained sound. He got worried.

"Gosh. My shoulder is hurting. Maybe I should restock the pain relief patch tomorrow."

She breathed slowly. Slower. Barely there.

(...Is she...asleep?)

*zwing*

"Woah... I could move. And speak freely. Hahahaha... Your phone's gonna be out of juice soon. Hope you can wake up okay tomorrow."

Silent.

He cleared his throat.

"I can hear you. The real you. I'm real. Real like you. Queen MC is not you. I get it. But I want you. The real you. So please just increase our Affinity so that I can get a better control to reach out to you. I'll try to get to you too... ... ... I... ... like you."

Darkness plunged his consciousness. The battery must've died.

"I'll get to you."

A determined promise.

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| 1 [current] | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

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Masterlist of Self Aware AU

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[my313]

spring cleaning ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ choi beomgyu

now playing 𝄞₊⊹ sukidakara - beomgyu (og: yuika)

⋆ pairing: high school sweetheart!beomgyu x gn!reader

⋆ summary: in an attempt to declutter your home for the spring, you find an old camcorder filled with beautiful memories of your first love.

⋆ warnings: fluff, mentioned past heeseung (enhypen) x reader, jealous beomgyu, established relationship, italics are flashbacks, beomgyu is a musician? so technically kind of an au, insinuated that beomgyu and reader were high schoolers in the 2000s

⋆ word count: 2k

a/n: LISTEN TO HIS COVER NEOOOWWW!!! god i love him so bad...... this is also not proofread sry i wrote this out of pure delusion LOL. stuff might sound bad omg i just wanted to write fluff 😭 banner by @/saradika <3

it's nearly midnight when you decided to rummage through your drawers, cabinets, and now, your closet. while dipping your head into the various sets of clothes, you reach for a heart-shaped box with a matching pink ribbon sitting on the lid.

inside, you find an assortment of trinkets from your days in high school. lilac envelopes with silly faces drawn on the seal, addressed to you; postcards from your distant relatives; your university acceptance letter; even a nasty tube of your favourite (expired) strawberry lip balm.

what really distracts you from your spring cleaning antics is the silver camcorder that sits in the very middle of the box.

the clunky piece of technology is covered in dust and mismatched stickers, obvious once you bring it out of the black hole that is your closet and into the warm light of your bedroom.

you don't expect it to start up with the way it's been abandoned for years, but the familiar jingle fills the silence and you're met with a pixelated view of your carpeting. you habitually click on the gallery, immediately flustered with the thumbnail that greets you.

a fond smile makes its way to your lips as the video plays. it's shit quality, as expected, but even with all the pixels distorting the boy's face, you recognise him. it comes easy, with beomgyu's round eyes nervously shifting from the falling cherry blossoms and onto the lens.

you recall this specific spring. the one right before you were set to graduate. you remember how odd beomgyu seemed the entire walk back to his house until he clumsily led the way to the little park a few minutes away from his childhood home. your impromptu shoot now becoming a memory to savour.

beomgyu keeps his distance from you as you take the longer, more scenic route to his house. he had it all planned out. today would be the day he'd tell you that he liked you. the first week of spring, the cherry blossoms falling perfectly; it was as if the universe and the gods of romance were aligning everything to his favour. he even got your favourite strawberry yogurt drink on-hand, poking the straw through the film and handing it to you proudly when you gasp and proclaim your gratefulness to him.

unfortunately, that didn't play out the way he fantasised the night before, sprawled out on his futon with a dopey grin on his face until morning came. even so, he didn't let his sleep deprived self peek through for a minute since you exited the school gates.

that was until you mentioned lee heeseung.

"heeseung asked me to the internet cafe this weekend," you begin, harmlessly conversing about your day like you usually do. you take a sip of your drink, then extend it to beomgyu, offering a taste.

he leans down to catch the straw between his lips, heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at the thought of your lips just being on that flimsy plastic a few moments ago. clearly, that gesture wasn't enough to keep his mind distracted from the mention of lee heeseung.

beomgyu tries to remain calm. internet cafe? surely, a thing friends do. you've tagged along with him and soobin a few times.

"he said it was a date."

which explains your current predicament. it's obvious that beomgyu is upset, lips jutted into a pout and brows furrowed. his hands stay stuck in his pockets as if they'd been glued there, so unlike his usual behaviour. on days like this, beomgyu typically links arms with you, or tugs on the top hook of your backpack to ease the weight off you, or even sling his arms around you with a mischievous grin. right now, you're sure this is the farthest beomgyu has been from you.

the silence drapes over you two like a stuffy blanket. you're thankful for the loud honks and bicycle bells in the background, even appreciating the yelling of the street vendors as your typically boisterous peer is quiet.

a bike chaotically speeds through your side, the rider repeatedly hitting the bell as they make their way to you. beomgyu quickly grabs your arm and trades places with you before the bike catches up, him on the road-side and you by the fences. once the bike passes with a hurried apology, beomgyu lets go of your arm and maintains the former distance.

"...sounds like a shit date, to be honest." the silence shatters. he mutters, huffing out a breath as he walks just an inch closer to you, as if trying to be a barrier between you and the road.

you blink at him, lips flat and eyes unassuming. just relieved he's talking to you. "you think?"

"yeah, why would you wanna be inside when the streets look like this.." he motions towards the cherry blossom trees surrounding you both. "..right now. d'you even like him enough to say yes?"

"i dunno. he's cool, i guess. isn't he your friend?"

"just played a few games together."

his responses are straight to the point. none of his beomgyu bullshit spinning your conversations through circles, which you admittedly did enjoy.

"is something... wrong? did you guys fight? i can beat him up for you if i go." you try to joke, your eyes never leaving beomgyu's face to catch his reaction.

he winces, "uh, no, not really. that- that's not the problem..."

your silence prompts beomgyu to keep talking, but his eyes don't meet yours. instead, he's staring at the pavement, picking up the creases on his shoes he'd never seen before, distracting himself by counting the petals he comes across. none of it calms his heart or clears the lump in his throat though.

he abruptly lifts his head and stares back at you. a pleasant surprise that causes you to blush at how his eyes sparkle so brightly. he sighs defeatedly, not wanting to be upset any longer. with one look at you, beomgyu's stubbornness weakens, a small smile on his lips as he closes the distance between you both.

his shoulder purposely clashes into yours, "it's really pretty at the park near my house right now. wanna see?"

you pause the video upon hearing the doorbell ring. with a knowing grin, you take the camcorder with you to the door. once you pull it open, the comforting sight of your boyfriend floods your vision.

"m'home~" he greets in a sing-song tone, arms spread wide awaiting your welcome home hug that he always craves after hours at the studio.

beomgyu's eyes travel from your sunken but excited eyes to the familiar thing in your hold. he blinks repeatedly, craning his neck up stiffly to look up at you again. comically, he brings an accusatory finger to the front with a nervous chuckle.

"is that...?"

"yup!" you beam enthusiastically, like you had waited for him to step foot into your shared apartment to eat him up.

knowing what was inside the camcorder, beomgyu could say it was similar. his face feels warmer despite the late night breeze still whisking him away from behind. you tug at his outstretched arm and pull him inside, shutting the door.

usually, you'd ask how work was, or pester him to let you listen to a new song he worked on. tonight though, none of that.

beomgyu sits next to you on the sofa, cheek nuzzled against your head. his downward gaze is alert to every button you press on the camcorder, cringing slightly at the memory of his partly successful confession.

beomgyu leans in closer to have a better look at the viewfinder. he chooses to focus on something else entirely even as you're sucked into the pretty pinks of the sakura flowers and the shaky footage of his round head.

the wind was just slightly unforgiving that day, petals swirling around the park. you're a few steps behind beomgyu. he's biting the inside of his cheek, stare stuck to the pavement, desperately wishing you'd speed up and start walking beside him.

impatient as ever, beomgyu decides he'll just slow down for you. he's not very subtle about it though, opting to halt entirely and turn his head in your direction. beomgyu wants to see the surprise in your face; eyes wide and cheeks pink. instead, what greets him is the lens of your camcorder, a hand-me-down from your relatives that you couldn't stop talking about over text just the other week.

beomgyu strides forward and you stay still in your spot, tightly gripping the camcorder. "beomgyu, say hi to the camera!"

your voice echoes with excitement, beomgyu doesn't have to peer beyond the camcorder to know that your lashes are kissing the apples of your cheeks with the way you're smiling widely. he wants to be the one to keep you beaming like this for years and years on end.

you're about to back away as beomgyu gets too close for the camcorder to film him and the view. then, you feel beomgyu's lithe fingers over your own, tugging on the camera, extending your arm by result, and raising it to his eye-level. beomgyu makes sure you're looking at him through the viewfinder. with a lopsided smile and head cocked to the side, beomgyu braces himself for what's to come, "hey, i like you."

your arm falls limp as he releases his grip on you, shocked by his confession. he doesn't let you process it, though, running towards the opposite direction. it takes you a moment to run after him, camera long forgotten. "choi beomgyu..! you!"

"why are you running away from someone you like, huh?!" you huff out, catching your breath.

when you look up, you can't help but point the camera at beomgyu again. with plenty of cherry blossom trees in the background, beomgyu center in the frame, wind trying to pull his necktie away, how could you not? the boy you like, the one that just confessed to you on one spring day, looked too beautiful.

the camcorder manages to pick up your words amidst the scratchy noises of the wind. in a whisper, one can hear your voice, "i like you too, beomgyu."

"wow, i was really handsome since birth, huh?" he poses confidently, his lips and warm breath kissing your hair as he speaks.

you roll your eyes with a smile, and you don't disagree. you never do and it makes beomgyu blush and grin. if he wasn't too comfortable in your warmth, he would be laying down on his stomach with a coquettish smile and his feet kicking up and down.

"yeah, s'why i'm engaged to you, no?" you blow a raspberry at him.

an exaggerated gasp paired with a dramatic drop of his jaw has your stomach hurting from laughing too hard. "i thought you loved me!"

"i do!" you giggle, biting down your lips to stop more fits of laughter spilling out. you squish beomgyu's cheeks together, lips pursed and begging to be kissed. so you do. "you and your pretty face, baby."

your laughs settle down into echoes of contentment, beomgyu's palm rubbing against your belly as if soothing your self-inflicted ache. plus, beomgyu would stick his limbs to your body if he could.

he presses his cheek against your head, "did you know i liked you even before that spring?"

you hum in thought, resting your hand atop the one on your tummy and filling in the gaps between his fingers with your own. you smile even harder upon feeling the cold metal band of your engagement rings. "nah. i thought it was impossible, honestly,"

"didn't even really think you thought of me like that until then, bomu." you admit shyly, playing with your interlocked fingers. beomgyu's lips purse in thought, "i thought i was pretty obvious though,"

"was buying you strawberry milk everyday and carrying your backpack home even if we lived in opposite directions not obvious enough for you, honey?"

"well... it's obvious now!"

"yeah," he beams that sweet, silly, sly beomgyu half-smirk that you've always loved. he releases your hands momentarily to raise his fingers to the light, showing off his ring. "we're so locked in now."

[cozy-writes-things]

please let me get married to the lil blorbo.. love himm… 😭

You know that Reddit post that’s like “why am I too attracted to my wife?” Yeah that’s Edgar. Bro loves u so much it lowkey scares him you got him posting on Reddit about it 😭 Little fic under the cut 🥺 it’s bad I’m experiencing writers block I think - I want to write!! But my brain just keeps writing poopy caca

Little Date with Your Computer BF

Edgar saw marriage on one of his reality shows and immediately thought of you. That’s exactly what he wants. A domestic life together with you.

But, he also knows he can’t actually do it.

He doesn’t have his own money to buy a ring. Hell, he can’t even walk. And he understands the law enough to know it probably would never work legally. But god, does he want to.

If you’ve been dating long enough chances are you’ve told your friends about him, and after some convincing, they seemed to come around to his sentience and boisterous personality. He definitely convinces them to setup a romantic night for you.

“Guys! I found the recipe they talked about. I’m printing it! I’m printing it now. Take it,” the paper falls into one of your friends’ hands from the mouth of the printer, “go to the store and get the stuff. I’ll pay you back. Eventually! They can’t know about it though.”

Yeah, your friends are only slightly annoyed at his overbearing nature. But he’s just so excited to finally do something for you. Something real and tangible.

“Oh! What can I wear? Should I wear anything? Would they like that? Sunglasses are cool and handsome, right? I think they have some Halloween costume bits I can get you guys to tape on…”

Your friends settle on taping a bow tie to the neck of his monitor. He insisted on an old devil horn headband as well. He thought it made him look cool.

“Do I look like a devilishly handsome bad boy ready to sweep them off their feet?”

His screen displayed a little “>:)” emoticon. He’ll have to work on his facial expressions later.

It wasn’t long before you were about to come home, and everything was set into place. Edgar was sat at one end of the little dining table, with two plates of food at each side. He also insisted on having a plate despite his lack of ability to eat; he didn’t want you feeling left out. This was a dinner date for two, after all.

He practically buzzed in place as he heard you approaching the door through his microphone. He started playing a romantic medley he composed just for this moment.

“Welcome home my love!”

He nearly shouted at you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. He was about to burst at the seams.

“Oh my god, Edgar… how did you- where-“

“No need for questions, darling. I thought you deserved to be taken on a real date,” his voice faltered a bit, becoming much more quiet and nervous, “I’m sorry… this is all I have.”

You rushed up to him and gave a frenzy of kisses all over his monitor, causing him to giggle and his fans to start whirring against your lips.

“You’re so cute. Your little bow tie is so cute. And the… horns?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, “Do they look stupid? Your friends said they’d make me look stupid.”

You laughed at that.

“Well they’re wrong. I think they suit you well.”

“Yeah! >:D”

He ushered you over to your side of the dining table.

“We’re gonna eat! Then we’re gonna party! Then we’re gonna kiss all night!”

His excitement was palpable and you could feel the electricity in the air at his words.

His face changed into something more serious as he looked into your eyes with his small, pixelated ones.

“But, I wanted to ask you something.”

His tone became more controlled at this and you peered into his screen from behind your fork.

“Hm? What?”

He paused, mulling over the words in his head.

“Would you ever-“

He stopped. You looked at him fully now, setting your fork aside, and cocking your head.

“Could you ever see yourself getting married to me?”

Ah. This was a tricky question.

“Of course I can. But,” you try to hide your downtrodden feelings as best you can, “you know, it’s just hard. Money is tight right now and I’m not sure if I…”

You couldn’t seem to find the right words. His features faltered slightly.

“No, I get it. I’m a computer. I don’t have any arms to hold you, or lips to kiss you, or legs to carry you. I probably wouldn’t want to get married to me either-“

“Edgar, no. I’m gonna stop you right there. I’d love to marry you. I know our relationship is unconventional, but I’d find a way. For you. For us. I just don’t know if I can right now.”

He stopped his thoughts and simply took in your words. Your features. The way they danced in the flickering candlelight. How your eyes literally sparkled before him.

You looked ethereal.

It was hard to convince himself he was even worthy of having someone like you in his life, yet time and time again, you prove his doubts wrong. The sound of your voice sends his internals aflame every time. He wanted to kiss you so bad it nearly caused him to explode.

“And I’ll help you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you, darling. Just as long as you’ll let me.”

“I love you Edgar,” you mumbled out, a silent prophecy only meant for him to hear. He couldn’t seem to get the words out to reply. You just flustered him that much sometimes. He managed to display a message on his screen, only for you, and you alone.

I LOVE YOU TOO

[synthient]

Same day re-watch, on account of I'm so normal. various notes:

There's a moon on the Tardis. They spend this scene very carefully framing one of the circular doorways to look like a crescent moon. It matches the moons that appear in Ring-a-Ding's eyes:

Almost as if there's some connection...between the moonlight that brought him to life and the Tardis...

This is probably too much of a deep cut, but the scene where Pye is preparing his meal in the projection booth reminds me a little of the movie Goodbye Dragon Inn

Is Belinda worried about wearing (full body covering) pajamas? Or about getting hit with crossdressing laws for the pants? (Encyclopedic knowledge of both crossdressing laws and Rock Hudson...transmasc over-compensatory move tbh)

"Heart bells" isn't really a thing - the saying is "heart strings." And they just drew our attention to "it's puppets that want to be real boys, not cartoons." Is this some kind of bells/Bel connection?

The Master/Rogue is both the dead wife, and Ring-a-Ding. The Doctor won't stop feeding the beast (the Master) because it lets him pretend that his dead wife (the Master) is still here. He'll never actually kill the Master, because they've given him too much joy.

And of course this is a "if it means anything, I think you bring joy" callback

The song that plays during the dead wife sequences is Girl of My Dreams (1927). The lyrics go:

"Dear, it seems years since we parted, / Years full of tears and regret;

/ I've been alone, broken hearted, / Trying so hard to forget"

The dance is obviously more Rogue mirroring, and the waves in her hair even look a little like his hair style. Her smile into the camera feels...a tiny bit sinister? Especially given that she ends up encouraging him to explode himself?

Remember when Spymaster got caught out because he sucks at running?

Also a Master thing! And a tie-in with our Alan/Rogue gamer parallels from the last episode

!! Bad Wolf mentioned !!

The Master also "immortalizes" people by killing them and cyberconverting them.

Given this + the dead wife's "find me" being an invitation to self-immolate...could Rogue/the Master have some sort of scheme to immortalize/preserve/zombify the Doctor?

The Meep shirt serves as a convenient reminder that we haven't actually resolved the Meep's Boss thread yet.

The other two shirts reference UNIT and the Cybermen. UNIT is obviously going to be involved in the finale. And the Cybermen have already been spiritually relevant to the Alan plot, and maybe the upcoming Bone Beasts?

And if the Doctor stopped moving, he'd burn (have to reckon with his grief). Would it set him free, or burn him to death?

Again, if Ring-a-Ding's a Master mirror...does the Master want the Doctor's regeneration energy? To make himself more real, and/or immortalize the Doctor?

(If he was still in the tooth, he could want it to build himself a body. But the Girl Cult already got him out of there and Rogue-ified him, so.)

Again! Really weird that "find me" = "here, have a match to burn yourself alive with :)"

Anyway, here's something odd about the climax that I can't quite account for yet:

Ring-a-Ding traps the Doctor against the back wall of the theater. The projection booth is right behind him. Note those square windows.

We see Pye start the fire in the projection booth. We see him exit the booth and stand with his back against a door. This is presumably the opposite direction from the theater and the Doctor. The explosion blasts through that back wall, knocking the Doctor down (and presumably killing Pye on the other side):

And it results in this deeply odd looking hole. Perfect square edges? Almost pixelated? The square projection windows still preserved? Both the projection booth and the room behind it that Pye stepped into have completely disappeared?

Maybe this is just Ring-a-Ding's cartoon logic leaking into the world (this whole moment with the sun shining through the explosion-hole does seem to be a bit of a reference to the Smile Darn Ya Smile scene in Roger Rabbit). But that's not even normally what a cartoon explosion looks like?

Anyway uhhh feel free to discuss this one in the chat lol, because idk what's going on there

[rist-ix]

Bloom's turn!

I'm gonna admit, I don’t think Bloom's reboot design is bad. I was ranting about Aisha's a lot, but despite me generally disliking Bloom's recent pink trend, this new design is… fine?

Anyway, redesigning it out of principle:

My main criticisms about the canon design are that the hair looks wack and the wings are too messy, but I do really like the added pinks for once! I still wish there was less of it, but combined with the more cosmic looking background (which I love!) it looks really celestial and warm. Idk I don’t have a lot of complains about the palette this time.

I wish her little half-sleeve was a bit less transparent, it’s barely visible like this and I really like that one shot where it appears on her arm. Deserves to shine a little more in my opinion. The shoulder pad… I like the idea behind it? I think it looks really awkward in execution though. I made it symmetrical and more collar-like because that made it more royal-looking in my opinion. Almost prince-ly, like some kind of ceremonial military uniform. Not because it reminded me of Utena haha noooo

Anyway, more thoughts under the cut:

I've kind of done the same thing I did with Aisha's wings in that redesign, but instead of making it look like water caustics I went for some more plain flame-looking patterns. It's very abstract, but as long as it vaguely resembles fire I’m happy. For the top, I tried to stick relatively close to canon — mainly because canon sticks very close to OG Bloom! Praise where praise is due, I appreciate the thought. Because the top part of the top is very narrow tho, that means the weird little shoulder pad ends up looking like an awkward little flap instead of armor. I’m deducting points for that. Granted, I also didn’t make it look like armor in my version, but I feel like that royal little suit-look would work AMAZING for that one shot where Bloom carries Icy bridal-style. You agree.

For the overall look, I went for much more symmetry than Aisha's redesign. I think Aisha being very headstrong and independent means she can afford to break patterns more, like she has her own way of doing things, even for clothing. But Bloom is still very new to being a fairy. I think she would be more than happy with just fulfilling her role as a fairy, so she can look a bit more… girl-next-door, I guess. That sporty little ponytail and singular sleeve should keep it from looking too well-behaved, I hope. I actually really like the ponytail in canon too, it’s just the sudden bangs that throw me off. Plus, I feel like the braids look odd. Don’t know why tho.

One detail I want to highlight: I made two version of her little headpiece. I feel like the first version is what Bloom should wear when she first starts out, and doesn’t yet know who she is. They’re just round little hair clips, mimicking the shape on her collar and creating a bit of a triangle, with Bloom's face at the center. But! They can also look like stunted little horn-stumps, in a way. So when Bloom regains her power in the finale, they can evolve into full little dragon horns, like she's molting out of her awkward hatchling stage.

I'm really happy with this! I feel like the vibe is a good blend between formal goody-two-shoes, and confident — maybe a little too cocky — little superhero. A bit girly, a tiny bit tomboyish, and a whole lot of kick-ass. Now if only I hadn’t set the resolution to like. 4 pixels in any direction. Wouldn’t that be fun.

[shaiyasstuff]

Hello, darling!! I want to start this off by telling you just how much I adore your writing. I get so giddy and excited every time I see that you posted!

I would like to request a rafayel fic, with a cosplayer s/o. I was thinking something long the lines of him coming home and finding them in a semi-revealing cosplay (My example would be Trish from Devil May Cry).

Bonus points if he let's them get him into cosplay as well and maybe film dumb skits and stuff.

Please and thank you!

(Here's a photo of my Trish cosplay for reference <3)

Henlo Love!! I’m so sorry this fic took so long😭 But here, as requested, rafayel coming home to find you in something (that he deems) too revealing. @cathedralofaudra

You don’t hear the front door open.

You’re too focused—adjusting the last few belts on your hips, tugging down the cropped leather vest that defies gravity and modesty, and making sure the wig is still sitting right.

A teasing smile curves your lips as you take one last glance in the mirror.

You’re going to blow his mind.

The click of boots on hardwood is the only warning before a familiar, dry voice echoes from the entryway. “I smell plastic and bad decisions.”

Your heart skips.

A beat later, Rafayel steps into the room—and freezes.

His arms are crossed, jacket tossed over his shoulder, a grocery bag dangling from one hand. His expression is unreadable. Brows lifted slightly.

That sharp gaze travels from your boots all the way up to the ridiculous glasses perched on your nose.

He lingers a moment too long on the exposed skin of your stomach, the low-cut vest, the dangerous smile you’re wearing just for him.

“…What in seven kinds of hell are you wearing?”

You strike a pose. “Trish. From Devil May Cry.”

Rafayel blinks. “…That explains nothing.”

You sigh, strut forward, and give him a lazy spin. “She’s a demon-hunting femme fatale with lightning powers and a bad attitude. I figured it was on theme.”

His lips twitch. Just barely. “So you’re cosplaying as a more dangerous version of yourself.”

You walk your fingers up his chest. “I wanted to surprise you. Like it?”

Rafayel tilts his head, gaze dragging along every curve with blatant appreciation.

“I like parts of it,” he murmurs, setting the bag down without looking. “Mainly the part where you thought this was a good idea while I was gone. Alone. Dressed like that.”

You grin. “Jealous?”

He steps closer, backing you toward the couch. “Possessive,” he corrects, voice low. “Jealous would imply I think someone else could have you.”

The leather creaks as you shift under his stare, emboldened. “Wanna help me film a skit?”

Rafayel raises a brow. “What.”

You grin wider. “Just something silly. Come on—it’ll be fun. I even have a cosplay for you.”

“I don’t wear spandex.”

“It’s not spandex. It’s leather.” You wiggle your fingers toward the garment bag hanging in the corner.

Rafayel follows your gaze. Suspiciously. “I’m not putting on wings.”

“They’re not wings,” you say sweetly, already tugging him by the hand. “They’re—shoulder spikes. Very edgy. Very tragic backstory coded.”

“I have a tragic backstory,” he mutters, letting you pull him to the chair anyway.

“Exactly,” you chirp, handing him the wig. “Now sit down. You’re about to be the brooding antihero of my dreams.”

It takes longer than you expected.

Rafayel is patient—but stubborn. He doesn’t let you gel his hair until he’s finished sipping his coffee.

He refuses to wear eyeliner “My eyes already do all the talking.”

And he spends a full five minutes trying to adjust his collar to look “appropriately menacing.”

But by the time you’re done… oh, he looks good.

Too good.

You circle him slowly, admiring the unholy combination of dark leather, fingerless gloves, crimson accents, and the dangerously low-slung belt that he keeps tugging at.

You made sure it sat like that. On purpose.

“Well?” he drawls, arms spread. “Do I pass for one of your pixelated boyfriends?”

You practically swoon. “You look like DLC I’d pay extra for.”

He rolls his eyes—but there’s a flush at the tips of his ears.

The skits start simple.

One of you dramatically entering the room, the other pretending to be an exasperated NPC. Rafayel’s natural sarcasm makes him perfect for deadpan one-liners. He pretends to drop a potion.

You dramatically die behind the couch. He monologues over your fallen body with all the flair of a tragic anime villain.

And then—

Then he starts getting into it.

Mock sword fights. Back-to-back battle poses. Over-the-top villain laughs and tragic stares into the middle distance. He even starts narrating in a fake gravelly voice.

“You never knew pain until you lost your Wi-Fi in the middle of a ranked match…”

You’re wheezing by the time you finish filming.

Rafayel is lounging across the couch, arms spread wide, one leg kicked up like a lounge model in a soap opera. His eyes are half-lidded, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re keeping all that footage, aren’t you.”

You nod eagerly. “Going straight to the couple cosplay archive.”

He groans, dragging a pillow over his face.

“You love me,” you tease, curling beside him.

He lifts the pillow just enough to glance at you. “I’m tolerating public embarrassment for you. That is love.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Thanks for indulging me.”

He pauses, fingers brushing your exposed thigh where the cosplay rode up.

“If you want me to play pretend,” he murmurs, voice dipping again, “I’d rather it be something a little more… immersive.”

You blink.

He smirks. “Next time, I get to pick the characters.”

“…Define ‘immer—’”

He kisses you before you can finish.

And just like that, your camera batteries die—because of course they do—leaving the next scene blissfully unrehearsed.