#of those themes instead of through it)

[autisticandroids]

FAMINE: That's one deep, dark nothing you've got there, Dean.

[youtube with closed captions]

dean and his father. dean and his family. dean and how bad it is.

(via @closetoyou1970)

[katabay]

original thief series basso & garrett :)

ngl, it's about quality over quantity for me. an npc can have a total of three minutes of screen time, but if they have a cool name, they can live rent free in my head and I'll spend several hours trying to decipher drawable features from a blurry screenshot of pixels

there is a vague hint of a story here, and that's because every time I try to play thi4f, I get incredibly frustrated with how Not Fun the game play is. like, is the story good? well. but it has a PLAGUE. that should've given it instant 'I'll replay this once a year' status in my heart, but the game play sucks so bad that I've never finished it. I can't believe Not Fun gameplay beat out my obsession with narrative plagues.

anyway, the idea is basically if the original era had a game with a plague centric narrative and some other stuff I liked out of thi4f thrown into a narrative blender, with a heavy dash of horror thrown in because some parts of the thief games were scarier to me than entire dedicated horror genre games.

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[andromeda3116]

"One day when I was a young boy on holiday in Uberwald, I was walking along the bank of a stream when I saw a mother otter with her cubs. A very endearing sight, I'm sure you will agree, and even as I watched, the mother otter dived into the water and came up with a plump salmon, which she subdued and dragged onto a half-submerged log. As she ate it, while of course it was still alive, the body split and I remember to this day the sweet pinkness of its roes as they spilled out, much to the delight of the baby otters who scrambled over themselves to feed on the delicacy. One of nature's wonders, gentlemen: mother and children dining upon mother and children. And that's when I first learned about evil. It is built into the very nature of the universe. Every world spins in pain. If there is any kind of supreme being, I told myself, it is up to all of us to become his moral superior."

--Lord Vetinari, Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Feeling very violent rn so here's a very controversial opinion:

Everything after season one of Young Justice sucked.

Look, I know I'm obsessed with the show but that doesn't mean it's good, it means that I'm too deep into it at this point to get out. There are good moments within the other seasons but in general? They were not good.

I'm sorry. I understand that they wanted to be creative and have a neat narrative and deep lore and all that. And they do! The narrative and lore is extremely deep.

But the plot? The characters??

Season one was an actual functional show that balanced character development, plot and dialogue with world building, lore and messaging.

The other seasons do not do that.

Season two bounced back and forth between like 16 characters. We got some development for some characters but even that was minimal compared to the character development in S1. And this isn't me complaining that the og group wasn't in S2 enough. That's not my issue. I would've loved to focus on a new group and I think that Jaime, Bart, Ed and Gar would've been super cool to focus on. I loved what character development they did have and I craved more.

But the problem? The problem is when you have 16 fucking characters that you are trying to develop and shove into a coherent plot and have actual meaningful scenes. There just wasn't enough focus on S2. Imo, S2 was meh because the characters got left by the wayside. The plot, dialogue, world building, lore and messaging was fine, there just seemed to be a lack of heart/warmth in the show because of the characters. It's hard to get invested.

Then holy shit. S3 introduced more characters. And the plot got more contrived and 'big picture' to the point that it started to abstract. It felt like nothing mattered. There were no stakes, you were just watching things happen. There was 50 fucking things happening an episode and 80% of it was lore/world building. It felt like I was studying for a fictional history exam.

I'm pretty sure the main character in S3 was earth 16. Just the entire universe. Because goddamn. We checked in on almost every living being and EVERYTHING was a plot point. Most of it wasn't even relevant to anything happening in the season. Man it was.... it was bad.

And at that point it just wasn't enjoyable at all to watch. I probably should've stopped watching but at that point the sunk cost fallacy had already kicked in. I knew it could be good. Maybe it could be good again. And people were constantly praising it as cinematic genius so I was like 'okay well maybe I'm missing the point? Maybe you aren't supposed to enjoy shows? Maybe this is fine?'

But season four broke me.

The creators heard that people were frustrated by the lack of character focus and the episodes following 72 characters and the episodes switching between 50 different subplots every episode and their solution? Their solution was to take allllllll the different unconnected plots and, instead of evenly spreading them throughout the season, jam them all into 'arcs'. So you had a bunch of mini seasons consisting of 3-5 episodes dedicated to a cast of ~5-8 characters (some of them new). And each of these episodes had unconnected a plots, b plots and c plots.

THAT IS NOT A SOLUTION

Holy shit that is not a solution.

Not to mention the overarching plot of the season, in which we had no fucking clue what was happening until the final episodes where everything became a speedrun to wrap everything up. We literally had no idea what the main plot was until it was ending.

Good god it was bad. It's bad writing!

I know people liked it and good for them. You should like what you like and you don't have to justify it. But for me it was insanity. I'm sorry I actually don't want a season long subplot where Beast Boy is depressed and sleeps all day. I would be cool with it if it had anything to do with the larger story but, surprisingly, spending five minutes watching Beast Boy sleep every episode didn't make for compelling storytelling.

I'm still not over how we didn't even know who the main villain was until the end of the season. And then all of a sudden he does a villain monologue to tell everyone his evil plan and his motives. Super cool actually. I love it when I have no idea what the stakes are for the majority of a show. It's incredibly good storytelling when you leave the audience in the dark about a major player in the plot for all of the plot. And then doing an info dump evil monologue in the final episodes to rush through the explanation??? Fucking fantastic and not a sign of terrible pacing at all.

I'm just so frustrated. The show isn't about being a show anymore. The show is an entire cinematic universe shoved into 20 something episodes. It's desperate to tell every single story at once, audience, pacing and good writing be damned.

I'm so tired of the constant praising of Greg. His whole 'i don't write endings because life doesn't have endings' and 'i don't write cliffhangers, I just leave things open ended' thing is pretentious bullshit. I'm tired of pretending it's not. A good story has an ending. Stories are not life! Some of the best shows I've ever watched had planned endings. And oh my god. The cliffhanger thing... that's just semantics my guy. Greg you write cliffhangers. You can insist they aren't but I'm going to call a spade a spade.

It's also.... I'm fine with explaining things, in fact I love it because it's an excuse to talk about the stuff I love, and I have a fairly decent knowledge of comic book lore. So, I could not only understand what was happening in the show but I was also super enthusiastic about explaining it to people. But hey Greg? Hey buddy? If 90% of your audience doesn't know what the fuck is going on and needs to be familiar with super specific obscure comic characters from the 70's then you might have a problem.

I think I realized halfway through s4 that the most enjoyment I got from an episode was when an obscure comic character would cameo in it. But then I realized that a) they generally weren't explained at all and b) 50% of the time they weren't just hanging out in the background and they were vital to the plot. So to understand who the fuck they were and what the fuck was happening you had to be familiar with... well all of DC comics actually.

Anyway this rant is getting long and unhinged and I don't think there's a point so I'm going to cut myself off even though I have so much more to say on the topic. I think my general point is just that I didn't enjoy watching the later seasons and it's chill if you did and we should all respect each other's opinions ✌️

[nailtagyuri]

when i was 12 this was the coolest most mindblowing shit ever i was genuinely so obsessed with it I'd read it very day like the bible. I would die for a version of this with the post 3D world content over my country

[apocritast]

Second attack! On verminfuneral on Artfight!

[james-stark-the-writer]

the difference between the fourth wall breaks of something like the Deadpool movies compared to something like Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn and She-Hulk: Attorney At Law is that every joke in Deadpool feels masturbatory like the writers think they're so hilarious for doing a fourth wall break like that's never been done before whereas both of the other two not only feel right at home with the characters' personalities but are much more natural and much more well done compared to the jokes in Deadpool or its sequel. (do not get me started on Deadpool 2, the movie sucks ass in basically every way except for the characters of Domino and Yukio. every single joke in it was outdated before it was even written. they were making fucking dubstep jokes in 2018. it was a 2012-ass script made way too late and riding on the coattails of the first with even less effort into being actually good.)

but the difference between those properties is that Deadpool wants to be congratulated for being some insanely crazy shocking movie that's pissing off the studio system or whatever but every single joke in it was approved by those people because it makes them money like it's so antithetical to the entire point they're trying to make and it makes for a very infuriating watching experience sometimes. the cognitive dissonance is hard to swallow with that one. but the way BOPATFEOOHQ and She-Hulk do their bits feels so much more authentic and less self-congratulatory and also just like they're clearly done with so much more passion and effort and care? when I watch either of the Deadpool movies, I feel like I'm watching a bunch of executives jerking themselves off. when I watch the other two, I feel like I'm watching a passion project that the executives clearly didn't give a shit about and thus the creative team were actually allowed genuine creative freedom with not a lot of oversight. that's a little less true with She-Hulk (especially in terms of that glorious finale although even that feels more authentic and artist-driven than most things in either Deadpool movie. Kevin Feige's boring, sanitized ass does not have the range to do that finale) being a MCU property although Phase 4 was so fucking experimental and it was a joy to behold even if not everything hit but it's still true and more authentic for the most part. with Deadpool it feels like the only person who really really cared about it was Ryan and like maybe a few of the other actors who actually did do commendable work with what they were given but with the other two projects, it feels way more collaborative because every single person showed up and cared deeply about what they were making.

(this is an addition to the tags bc I ran out [apparently i forgot there was a 30 tag limit] but. anyway the point is. Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn is a phenomenal movie in basically every single way and you should watch it.)

[vampacidic]

you know i understand why undertale spawned so many au's after its release because. damn if i do not want to stick enstars blorbos in the underground hell dimension. for funsies

[icewindandboringhorror]

............ ultimate somng

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[coruscant-nights]

i don't exactly share my writing (here or anywhere) except with a few choice people, but i was thinking earlier and... a lot of it is to do with grief. whether the story itself is about loss or about something else completely, various forms of grief are always woven within and honestly i get it. i know why. and as sad as it could be, the other thing they include is hope. and maybe that's why writing has managed to help keep the shattered parts of me glued together for as long as it has.

[goatsandgangsters]

how to find literally any post on a blog in seconds (on desktop)

there are so many posts about ~tumblr is so broken, you can’t find any post on your own blog, it’s impossible, bluhrblub~

I am here to tell you otherwise! it is in fact INCREDIBLY easy to find a post on a blog if you’re on desktop/browser and you know what you’re doing:

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant. every single post, every single time. in chronological order starting with the most recent post. note: it will not find #croissants or that time you made the typo #croidnssants. for a tag with multiple words, it’s just /tagged/my-croissant and it will show you everything with the exact phrase #my croissant

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant/chrono will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the exact phrase #croissant, but it will show them in reverse order with the oldest first 

url.tumblr.com/search/croissant isn’t as perfect at finding everything, but it’s generally loads better than the search on mobile. it will find a good array of posts that have the word croissant in them somewhere. could be in the body of the post (op captioned it “look at my croissant”) or in the tags (#man I want a croissant). it won’t necessarily find EVERYTHING like /tagged/ does, but I find it’s still more reliable than search on mobile. you can sometimes even find posts by a specific user by searching their url. also, unlike whatever random assortment tumblr mobile pulls up, it will still show them in a more logically chronological order

url.tumblr.com/day/2020/11/05 will show you every post on the blog from november 5th, 2020, in case you’re taking a break from croissants to look for destiel election memes 

url.tumblr.com/archive/ is search paradise. easily go to a particular month and see all posts as thumbnails! search by post type! search by tags but as thumbnails now

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio will show you every audio post on your blog (you can also filter by other post types). sometimes a little imperfect if you’re looking for a video when the op embedded the video in a text post instead of posting as a video post, etc

url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/croissant will show you EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant, but it will show you them in the archive thumbnail view divided by months. very useful if you’re looking for a specific picture of a croissant that was reblogged 6 months ago and want to be able to scan for it quickly 

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio/tagged/croissant will show you every audio post tagged with the specific phrase #croissant (you can also filter by photo or text instead, because I don’t know why you have audio posts tagged croissant) 

the tag system on desktop tumblr is GENUINELY amazing for searching within a specific blog! 

caveat: this assumes a person HAS a desktop theme (or “custom theme”) enabled. a “custom theme” is url.tumblr.com, as opposed to tumblr.com/url. I’ve heard you have to opt-into the former now, when it used to be the default, so not everyone HAS a custom theme where you can use all those neat url tricks. 

if the person doesn’t have a “custom theme” enabled, you’re beholden to the search bar. still, I’ve found the search bar on tumblr.com/url is WAY more reliable than search on mobile. for starters, it tends to bring posts up in a sensible order, instead of dredging up random posts from 2013 before anything else

if you’re on mobile, I’m sorry. godspeed and good luck finding anything. (my one tip is that if you’re able to click ON a tag rather than go through the search bar, you’ll have better luck. if your mutual has recently reblogged a post tagged #croissant, you can click #croissant and it’ll bring up everything tagged #croissant just like /tagged/croissant. but if there’s no readily available tag to click on, you have to rely on the mobile search bar and its weird bizarre whims) 

[buggyballed]

Turning off Discord's New Mobile Layout [OUTDATED]

EDIT (Oct 22/2023): This was originally posted on Sept 8/23 and since then there are some people saying that the option to turn off the layout is no longer there. Currently I no longer have the option to turn the new layout back on so I'm not entirely sure where Discord is going with this. I still encourage everyone to leave Discord feedback regarding their opinions about the layout. (end edit).

EDIT (Dec 6/2023): Discord has started rolling out this new mobile layout permanently along with some other changes (such as adding the 'Midnight' theme for OLED screens, though how it's different compared to the previous OLED theme is unclear). The changes are discussed in this blog post as well as this YouTube video. Discord has acknowledged on Twitter that the new layout will "take some getting used to" but that the original mobile layout is no longer available.

As turning off this feature is no longer possible I have disabled reblogs on this post.

If you do not want this new update, and have not received it yet, you may need to consider disabling auto-updates in your app/playstore. For those already affected, some people have suggested that downloading an APK of an older version to get around this but I don't know how that works or how to do that so please don't ask me.

If you have any thoughts on this layout change I recommend sending them through Discord's Feedback forum as there is nothing that I personally can do about it.

The original post is underneath the read more. (end edit)

(Note: Discord themselves do have instructions on how to turn it off but it's buried at the bottom of their blog post about the change).

In case anyone else gets stuck with this garbage update, here's how you can turn it off:

In the bottom right corner there is now a section labelled "You".

Tap the "You" button to open the tab. This should bring up your Discord profile. In the top right corner there should be a little gear button for your Settings.

Tap on this to open the Settings up. You will need to navigate to your "Appearance" settings. Now there are actually two ways to do this now.

As normal you can scroll down to the Appearance section of the Settings:

Or you can utilise one of the actually useful things included in this update: The search bar. Yes, with the new layout you can type in the setting you're looking for instead of scrolling through them all.

Once you open up your Appearance settings you will need to scroll down until you find the section for the New Layout.

Tap on it to disable it and viola! You should be back to the old (and, in my honest opinion, more usable) layout. After turning it off you will be prompted to leave some feedback regarding your experience with the new layout, do with that what you will.

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[bakugoushotwife]

a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do. 

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself. 

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen. 

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure? 

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand. 

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this. 

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?” 

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means. 

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders. 

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?” 

“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod. 

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings. 

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?” 

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago. 

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair. 

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason. 

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body. 

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men. 

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion. 

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.” 

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed. 

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway. 

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.” 

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start. 

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real. 

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.” 

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.” 

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?” 

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but. 

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you. 

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention. 

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams. 

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously. 

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it. 

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his. 

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again? 

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how. 

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command. 

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it. 

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue. 

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname. 

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy. 

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight. 

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.” 

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious. 

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife. 

[ghosts-cyphera]

Solace

╰﹒from his lips you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar. / playing house with pornstar!ghost.

warnings/content: 18+, mdni; fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, warm and fluffy domestic themes with a touch of bittersweetness, implied audience—but also filming porn so actual audience, lol. words: 2.9k.

the kitchen of the townhouse was warmly lit: dim lights above the cooking area created an inviting glow in the evening. the piles of dog-eared cookbooks, pots and spatulas, and a row of herbs reminded you that this time you were not on set.

you were home.

with your fingers intertwined with those of ghost, you slipped into the kitchen. on your faces played the warmest of grins, and you tried your best to bite back your laughs and your giggles.

simon's shushing was rushed as his hand cupped your cheek and led you into a deep kiss.

from his lips, you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar.

to kiss with lips brightly smiling was not an easy job, the clanging of your teeth together only brightening your joys. 

"there’s no way they won't hear us," you managed through your laughs and kisses, your twinkling eyes finding him. "they know. they have to know—“

"if you’d come up with a better reason for us to sneak off—," his laugh was low, voice deep as he tried to keep it only slightly above a whisper. "'we need to check the a/c'? it's fuckin' freezin' out there, my love."

you laughed with a shake of your head. "you know I've never been able to lie."

"so maybe you should've told the truth," he raised an amused brow. 

"sorry friends, ghost wants to bend me over the kitchen counter while you dine in the next room ov—," his lips on yours cut your sentence short: a warm moan sliding from your lips as you felt your body submitting to him. 

for who were you to deny it, when your own skin was burning with your need for him? when his voice, his touch, his scent: his love for you was what fueled you? 

when ghost—you smiled only brighter as he forced himself to break the kiss—was all that you had ever wanted.

"I did not drag you with me to bend you over, my love," his chuckle was warm: the back of his hand caressing your cheek, and his eyes darkened with playful mischief. “no, darlin’. fuckbuddies get bent over. and—let’s see—girlfriends get bent over. maybe hookups from pubs, and—“

with a laugh, your hand moved to cover his mouth. “if you think I want to hear a list of everyone you’ve bent over in the past—“

"but you—," his fingers on your wrist were gentle, as he freed his grinning lips from your hold, “are not just a girlfriend or a casual fuck. no, you—,” he smiled against your lips, warm and bright, “are my wife, darlin’. and wives get fuckin’ worshipped.”

“even with our entire group of friends in the next room over?” not even the slightly nervous knit of your brows could hide the burn in your eyes as his thumb brushed against your bottom lip. 

teasing: his eyes dark, as he spoke. “if our friends think for a moment that I don’t fuck you every night, and wake you up each morning with my mouth on you—,” he planted a kiss on your lips. “it’s about fuckin’ time they get it right.”

god.

"ghost—," your laugh was warm as you watched him kneel before you on the floor of the townhouse kitchen—of your kitchen—the sight alone enough to coax a soft breath from your lips. 

it was the hunger in his eyes. the twinkle in them as his fingers rested on your ankles and he began to trace his way up, and up, and up your legs: his touches burning through your sheer stockings, held up by a garter belt.

each touch was getting you only more breathless: each of his kisses planted on your thighs full of adoration.

ghost knew it too: you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you, the man downright grinning between his kisses. "breathe, darlin'."

"stop teasing me and I will."

"stop teasing and do what, instead?" 

as much as you wanted to curse him for making you plead and beg, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks with your smile. "need to feel your tongue on me, ghost. please—"

"this tongue?"

yes, that fucking tongue: the tongue of which tip ran up your slit, covered only by the ridiculously thin material of your panties. the kisses he pressed on your heat were warm and soft: there for no other reason do but to tease you, and fuck, did it work.

"ghost—"

"that the tongue you want to come on, sweetheart?"

"yes, please—"

he laughed against your heat: the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine as his gentle hands guided you to spread your legs for him. 

and even as you felt the subtle squeeze of his hands on your thighs—impatient—he did not rush his movements. even though you knew him to fight back his need to taste you, ghost took his time sliding his hands to your hips and kissing your lower stomach.

chuckling as you gasped from the soft tickle. 

"that's it, darlin'. I wanna hear every fuckin' sound passin' 'em pretty lips of yours, eh?"

"what if they—"

"even if that means that our friends will fuckin' hear us," he laughed against your skin, lips pressing kisses sloppier and sloppier onto your skin. "they don't wanna hear me fuckin' my wife, they can leave."

and action.

"sounds a bit dra—" his fingers hooking around your panties drew the fabric aside, and your words got cut off by your moan as his mouth found your clit. "fuck, ghost—"

whatever patience the man had managed to muster for the moments that he had spent teasing you now flew out the window, as his hands on your hips drew you to him. he breathed in your scent, his tongue sliding between your lips from your clit to your entrance and to your clit again.

flicking and sucking, goddamn devouring.

and you lost it.

head tilting back against the cool wall of the kitchen, your eyes blinked shut as you submitted to his licks and caresses: his kisses and his groans.

his praises, as the sweetest of moans and gasps: of cries and pleas passed your lips.

"that's it, darlin'. good fuckin’ girl—"

from his tongue, you found the death of a single thought that had ever existed in your mind. from his fingers moving to circle and tease your entrance, you found the gates of heaven.

"fuck, sweetheart—," he laughed against your heat, "you're fuckin' clenching around nothing. that fuckin' needy for me, yeah?"

"ghost, please—"

"that all you have to say?"

god—

"I need your fingers."

"good fuckin' girl."

two of his digits slid into you. first knuckle, second knuckle.

by the time the third knuckle was pressing against your opening, your own fingers had tangled around his hair and his mouth found contact with your clit once more. 

you could hear just how drenched you were: your arousal surely dripping down his fingers and coating his hand, too, as he curled his digits inside you. 

knowing exactly how to touch you.

how to kiss you.

how to get your thighs to begin to shake on each side of his head, as his tongue continued its steady pace on your clit. its movements were exactly what you needed from him: the pressure and pace driving you closer and closer to your orgasm with each flick, lick, or circle drawn around it.

you were so close, so fucking close that all you needed was—"fuck, ghost!"

a third finger slid into you, yet this time it was not only the thickness and length of his digits that made you cry out. not only the pace, or the way he curled them inside you that made you buck your hips closer to him.

this time, it was the feeling of something cool at the base of his finger.

his wedding band: the one that showed his love to you, and you alone. his adoration, so visible in his eyes as you glanced down at him. so proud of you, so encouraging.

come for me, his eyes told. come on, sweetheart. I got you. I fuckin’ got you.

and that reminder—that promise was all you needed.

with a desperate call for his name, you stumbled over the edge: your thoughts clouding and your body trembling as you came shaking on his fingers and tongue, the man glowing from the sight.

from the sounds.

from the feeling of you clenching around his fingers as he made your orgasm last and last until you were squirming away from his touch, breathless yet glowing. 

"so fuckin' beautiful—"

to have him between your legs was one thing. to have ghost standing up just to draw you into the deepest kiss—to taste yourself on his lips and tongue—was a whole other kind of divine.

"did so fuckin' good, darlin'," his words were chuckled against your lips between his kisses, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. "made me so fuckin’ proud, yeah?"

in his eyes, you could see it all, and as you beamed from the sudden surge of happiness—from the adrenaline rush of your orgasm or the softness of his gaze, you did not know—ghost beamed with you.

happy.

“I fuckin’ adore you.” 

genuine.

"what d’you think, my love? think our guests are keeping themselves entertained?"

with a warm laugh, you slipped from between him and the wall, your fingers in his drawing him with you as you hopped on the kitchen island—glowing with your eagerness as your fingers moved to fumble with his belt. "fuck the guests."

"no," ghost chuckled against your temple, grinning lips kissing your forehead as he freed his cock, the tip glossy with his precum. "no, darlin', but I will fuck my wife."

your laugh was bright and the roll of your eyes playful. "smooth."

just as smooth as the flick of his wrist was as he drew your panties to the side.

just as smooth as the push of his hips was as he eased into you.

"oh, god, ghost—"

"fuckin' 'ell, darlin'—," his voice was a low rumble, his forehead leaning against yours. hands grabbing your hips to slide you closer to him on the counter. 

greedy.

so goddamn impatient, and not for a moment could you blame him. not when you were clenching around him, your lips parting in the deepest of breaths and moans just from the feeling of his weight in you.

"bloody hell, sweetheart—"

it's like you were made for each other. his length, his girth, the way he seemed to fill you up in a way no one else ever had. in a way no one else ever would, you were sure as he bottomed out with a deep curse and a breathless laugh.

one, that your own lips parted in as well. for you had learned to recognize the way that his cock was twitching inside you. you knew that his patience was being tested: the patience of ghost who you knew wanted nothing more than to—

his fingers placed on your throat were gentle, yet his lips finding yours for a kiss were everything but as he picked up his pace. 

no one.

each thrust of his cock, hot and heavy and fucking pulsating inside you coaxed moans and breaths and whimpers only more desperate than the previous from your lips.

no one could ever fuck you like he fucked you.

"ghost, please—"

"you're so fuckin' beautiful like this—," he grinned against your cheek, lips pressing sloppy kisses onto your skin as he fucked into you. "my darlin' hiked up on a fuckin' kitchen counter. pretty little dress messy from your juices, fuckin' stained when I come in you. gonna pull 'em panties back on and make you go back to the guests, yeah? entertain 'em like the good little host you are, with my fuckin' cum dripping out of you—"

his movements inside you were ruthless: his cock hitting the exact right spot to make you cry out his name again and again, so fucking fast and deep—

"gonna take you like this every day for the rest of our lives, my love—," his lips were brushing against your ear, his fingers bruising your hips through the fabric of your dress. "wanna be mine forever, yeah?"

please.

fuck, if it wasn’t the only goddamn thing you had ever wanted—

"yours," you managed, your brows furrowing as you felt the familiar heat building up and up at the pit of your stomach: your desperation for him audible in your voice. "I want to be yours. fuck, ghost—I fucking love you. I love you—"

the words passing your lips were all that it took for the orgasm to rush through the body of—

ghost.

with a deep call for your name and a breathless curse, ghost's forehead fell against yours as his cock twitched inside you: ropes of hot cum filling you up and coating your walls.

too early.

too fucking early.

trying your best to collect yourself: to bite down your surprise, you moved to arch your back in trying to keep the scene from falling apart. yet it was the deep and low laugh that rumbled from ghost's chest that made you stumble. "that goddamn fuckin' line."

"and cut!"

"the I love you? you knew it was in the script!" despite the audible amusement in your laugh, it was nothing but soft and warm: your gaze gentle as it found that of ghost.

"it not the fuckin' same to read it on paper and to have you lookin’ at me like—," ghost laughed, shaking his head as he blinked his eyes shut. "guys I’m fuckin’ sorry, yeah? just give me five, and I’ll be ready to go again—"

from the clap of price's hands, you turned to the director who was now shaking his head with a deep laugh. "just keep your position, yeah? they'll check the details for continuity. we'll go through the footage and—you both good to keep going?"

you nodded your heads with soft chuckles.

"good work," price called out with a grin. "can't blame you for the slip. it's an easy fix with a camera pan around the flowers, so no damage done. take a break and we'll keep going, yeah?"

and just like that, your domestic little bubble had popped. 

suddenly the cozy townhouse kitchen was filled with the sounds of your crewmembers talking and shuffling around. the boom mic above your heads was pulled back, and the camera crew—now calling out warm jokes and laughs to the two of you—moved out of the way as someone rushed to you to document your positions. the way the hem of your dress fanned around you, and the position of his hand on your cheek; the angle of your head, and the way his hair was pushed to the side.

yet not even after the perky woman had given a thumbs up for you to move, did ghost step away from you. it was something the two of you had agreed on beforehand: the consent given for him to stay inside you between scenes. 

to help you, and to help him. 

just work.

"you did so fuckin' good, love." ghost's gaze, warm, found yours.

the set around the two of you began to quiet down once more. somewhere behind your back, you could hear price and the writers going through the last minutes of footage scene by scene, yet suddenly it was just you and him again.

this time friends.

costars.

just costars.

"you too," you smiled at him. "I loved—," you laughed, soft. "this is a little stupid, maybe. but the way the ring felt inside me was—"

"oh yeah?" he grinned, a hint of something bright waking up in his eye. "is it a ring kink or just the idea of gettin' fucked by your husband that gets you goin'?"

god.

"probably a bit of both," you laughed. his fingers were caressing your cheek gently, and to feel him still inside you—

just work.

"wouldn't mind filmin' more shit like this with you," he then spoke with a smile. "domestic, y'know? it feels—real. I mean, bloody hell, that's why—" he laughed, the sound a low rumble, and the warmth of it only brightened your smile.

"I think we might be," you wet your lips. "they built this set for us. just you and I. it hasn't been used in any other production before, because they wanted it to feel more real. more special for the—"

"fans," ghost laughed. "right. fuckin' A. they include that library too you want so bad?"

you furrowed your brows. "why do you think I—"

“come on, love.” the twinkle in his eyes was playful as he quirked a brow. "with the amount of romance porn you read—"

"romance porn?" your laugh was breathless as your hands moved to push him gently. "it's not—"

"sweetheart, I've seen the fuckin' twinkle in your eyes. the way you squeeze your fuckin’ thighs when you browse away on your phone." his grinning lips planted a kiss on your forehead, the man now shaking with his repressed laugh. "you say it isn’t what I think it is and I believe you. but after all this time knowin’ you—"

his arms closed around your upper body to draw you into his embrace, his chest muffling your laugh.

he was warm, and he was familiar.

"you’re the worst,” you managed a gentle chuckle.

"thought you loved me."

he was safe.

"that was just a part of the script."

"no yeah, fuckin' of course," ghost chuckled into your hair. "as much as me lovin’ the idea of you bein' all mine was."

and there, in the kitchen of the townhouse that was built for the two of you and you alone, he was home. 

a/n: I am SHAKING so bad from my excitement and love for this part that trying to edit and format it has been the hardest thing I've ever known. I love them. that's it. I love them so much my heart hurts. oh and also, price is now their go-to director! we don't know 'greg' anymore. greg is now price, lmao. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / as usual, my inbox is open for all your ideas and thoughts about him, eek! 💌