#switch toolbox

[tilt5951]

fuck, my laptop literally has Intel CORE i3 7th Gen. and IT DOESN'T EVEN WORK PROPERLY WITH PROGRAMMS I NEED! FL STUDIO LAGS AS IF I WAS MAKING SOME 298327382839-INSTRUMENT TRACK AND R.E.P.O. JUST LITERALLY CRASHES ONCE IT'S IN WINDOWED MODE. WTF IS WRONG WITH MY LAPTOP AND WHY CAN'T I EVEN GET ANYTHING BETTER THAN THIS PIECE OF SHIT. Well, i mean I know why. BECAUSE I FUCKING HAVE NO ANY MONEY. this is one of the reasons why I don't start making my mod yet. because SwitchToolbox will prolly not even open here on this laptop. fucking hell. i hope i will finally raise enough money for better PC so I can give this laptop to my mom.

[kawaoneechan]

Okay so.

Maya .anim — Text based. Not supported by Blender, can't find a plugin. All I do find is the ever helpful guidance to open the thing in Maya, export to some common format, and import that into Blender.

Studio Model Data — aka the Source format, even though the Valve dev wiki says it's outdated and they use DMX now. Text based, unlike DMX. Does not support interpolation, so positions and rotations are included for every frame. I blame Switch Toolbox for calling it such. Not natively supported, of course, but that same wiki links to a plugin. On use, everything is broken.

SEAnim — Binary. Apparently has the same limitations as SMD, from a cursory read of the format docs. Needs a plugin, but when I tried to use it I got the same results as with SMD.

CHR0 — I have no earthly clue.

The native option, BFSKA — Binary Format SKeletal Animation? Can't find a plugin, but from what I've seen it's similar to BFMAA (MAterial Animation I guess), and BYAML. Switch Toolbox can export BFMAA to plain text-based yaml, but doesn't offer this for skeletal animations.

This horrifying thing is the animation skeleton for a cat villager. Bob, specifically, but they all have the same skeleton data so who cares.

As you can see, I've color-coded some limbs. The yellow third leg is the root bone.

If I import Act_Boxing.smd, a Studio Model Data file, I get this:

That is a right mess.

This is what that boxing animation should look like, as seen in Switch Toolbox:

(model wireframe has been reduced in opacity for clarity.)

Now, I mentioned that SMD and SEAnim yield the same result. Surely both of them couldn't make the exact same mistake parsing two different file formats, though?

I am given two options in the Switch Toolbox program for model exports: some native format or Collada DAE.

I pick the one I have any hope to use, DAE, and import it into Blender.

I find the animation data and am given options: native, Maya, SE, Source, or CHR0 whatever that is.

Well, I can find two plugins. The Maya .anim import/exporter is actually only an exporter, but the Source option can in fact do both.

bonk.

Yeah this is worthless.

Kinda makes me wonder how they did that one mod with the dance...

[prismit]

found an iron valiant avatar in vrchat a while back and was completely baffled at how poorly optimized it was. like 15 objects and 20 materials. when it could've easily been at minimum 2 objects and 2 or 3 materials.

but now i got the temptation to make some ultra beast avatars, and after ripping the models from sword/shield.... ok yeah i get it now. these things were NOT made with vrchat portability in mind LMAO i can only imagine how much worse the higher quality gen 9 models are to optimize.

[gtgbabie0]

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: {Sevika has some trouble with her mechanical arm, you offer her help} For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

softSevika,softSevika,softSevika! Enjoy my lovelies <3 💕

The pale light of the moon was drowned out by the neon signs that flicker soft colours of pink and blue which bleed through your small apartment, it was the only source of light guiding Sevika through the room before she finds the light switch, clumsily flicking it on.

It had all gone so horribly wrong so quickly, what was meant to be a simple drop off and pick up turned into a violent mess— fucking useless, she thought bitterly. It’d be the last time she would work with some newbies who couldn’t tell their left from their right.

Her frustrations were bubbling over, that much was clear when she slams the front door shut, immediately wincing at the loud noise and once again she silently curses, this time at herself.

It was well past midnight and you were definitely knocked out like a light, it was endearing how quickly you fell asleep, one moment the pair of you would be talking then the very next you were snoring your head off. The thought of you curled up in your shared bed with your face smushed against the soft pillows makes her smile— the type that softens her hardened features.

It almost made her forget about the dull ache that seized her muscles, almost. She needed a drink.

So with a bottle of whiskey and her toolbox, you had so kindly brought for her spread out on the coffee table she sat down on the couch trying to fix the mess that had become of her mechanical arm— which was so much more harder to do by herself, without you there to unscrew the screws she couldn’t reach or to hand her the right tools… or to caress her cheek with those soft hands of yours, fuck, she had missed you more then she’d like to admit.

Sevika had been at it for hours, fumbling with one stubborn screw that had been lodged stuck. It refused to come loose for love nor money and it was driving her up the damn wall that she throws the stupid screwdriver across the room, watching it bounce across the wooden floorboards with a loud clang and a thud.

She stares down at it with a small scowl, scoffing before reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

“Sev?— what’re you doing?” Your soft voice, heavy with sleep ripples through the silence, breaking down the spell of anger that seemed ever present.

“Nothing, go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” She mumbles the reply, ducking her head down to look at the floor beneath her, it was almost ridiculous how fast the guilt hit her. She’d woken you up at god knows what time with her banging around.

You shake your head at her dismissal, padding your way over to her with a small frown— your hands tightening the silk robe you had wrapped around your body. Without a word she moves her legs so you can perch yourself on the edge of the coffee table, sitting in front of her.

“You won’t be able to fix it if you’re drunk.” You tell her, a small smirk ghosting over your lips as you watch her put the bottle of whiskey down on the table with a small huff.

“It’s not the alcohol—” Sevika replies gruffly, her heart skipping a few beats at the feeling of your hand against her knee as you rummage through her toolbox. “It needs a specific part.” Gods, you made her feel like a lovesick fool sometimes but damn if she didn’t absolutely adore the feeling.

With a soft hum, you let your fingertips graze along the metal fixings of her prosthetic arm, the joints were all broken and a couple of cogs were missing— it’d be easier to fix if it was detached and by the look on Sevika’s face she knew this… but it was a pain to do.

“I could-” you go to offer her an alternative, eyes skimming across the mechanical arm as your tired mind runs a mile a minute.

“Just help me take it off,” She concedes with a weary sigh, nodding over to the screwdriver which you’re quick to pick up.

She didn’t like having it off, to feel so vulnerable and defenceless. In a strange way, it scared her. Sure she could probably knock a guy or two out with one hand but it was still daunting to feel so stripped in such a way.

You stand up from the coffee table, situating yourself in between her legs as you begin to gently unscrew the bolts, handing them over to her one after another as she puts them safely into a bag. Then with a soft hiss of air, the arm comes loose, the weight falling from Sevika’s shoulder and down on the sofa beside her.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow… get that specific piece.” You promise her with a tender smile, looking down at her from where you stand with her rough hand resting over the curve of your hips from between the opening of your silken robe— caressing up to your waist slowly.

“Mmhm.” She hums in agreement, leaning forwards to bury her face into your soft tummy with a heavy sigh that borders on a groan as you skim your fingertips along her cheek and through her hair ever so slowly that it has her nuzzling into you like a damn cat.

Gods, you knew just how to dismantle her… you were a dangerous woman— her kryptonite.

“C’mere.” She mutters, pulling you down onto her lap without a single second thought. Her strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you against her as you melt into her body— her fingers brushing along your hip.

“Come to bed Sev— you look like you’re about to pass out.” You whisper, turning your head to get a good look at her with those soft eyes of yours… so tired and sweet.

“I will just let me hold you like this for a minute.” She replies back, bumping her forehead against your own— pressing a kiss to your cheek then burying her face into the crook of your shoulder, a muffled ‘I love you’ spoken into your skin.

[cack1e]

could some wise person teach me how to rip files from switch games? i feel like a little idiot baby loser every time i ask someone else to do it in the discord server im in but also i would rather get these files directly than screenshot them in game at awkward angles

[theultimatepumpkinpie]

This is 100% the best part about warframe

You are the only person playing warframe correctly, i love the entire vibe. "What the hell is a meta, im out here having fun"

thank you. i was inspired by my friend, a career yareli main who only owns secondary weapons and outperforms all of us in all content.

in all seriousness, warframe is maybe the only extant mmorpg i have played where player expression through gameplay alone is still possible. i love ffxiv with all my heart! but i do not get to be creative about how i play that game! but warframe? warframe's bizarre habit of keeping defunct systems and features around while still cleaning up quality of life means...

uh. y'all? there's some exceptionally funny garbage in this game if you go looking for it. there are systems that interact in ways you can barely conceive of until you stick your nose in the mud.

we've been freed from the tyranny of steel path grineer armor scaling. we deserve to live as free elves.

as long as you are not noticeably sandbagging your netracells, this is a pve game and nothing matters if you are not having fun and experiencing some delirious height of meat robot gender.

[littlelovelunette]

"So, What If?" (2)

Contains smut, kissing, butch!r, oral, switch!Sevika, brat!switch!r

Word Count: 1.4k

Perhaps it was that one comment Sevika had made to you when you first fixed her arm but now suddenly, everything was so awkward between you and her.

Everyday, something new would be wrong with her arm and she would linger at your workshop, leaning against the back of the chair, legs spread almost invitingly as she watched you fix her arm. Your bare arm muscles glistened under the dim light of the garage, the way you occasionally pushed your short hair out of your face, wiped the grime stuck to your chest or neck.

You groaned, “Do you do this to me on purpose?” you asked her in an annoyed tone.

Sevika, a sly smirk playing on her lips, shifted in her seat, “Maybe?”

You didn't charge her extra, of course, like you'd said you would. Instead, you tried to lessen whatever price would've been the initial to an embarrassingly low amount.

Sevika noticed, of course she did. It was too obvious.

From the way you blushed whenever she said, “See ya’ next time, sweetheart,” and left. From the way you avoided her gaze whenever she was seated too close to you in your workshop.

“Get it together,” you kept telling yourself but you didn't know if you could. Sevika was just…. So hot. As if to make matters worse, she'd smoke right there in the garage and you couldn't help admiring the way she handled her tobacco. She was so deliciously beautiful too, it was almost distracting.

It was a windy afternoon when you were tinkering away on your workbench, Sevika entered, “Hey,” she said, voice low. This time, her arm was intact. She sat down at her usual chair, almost always left empty for her.

“Hey, what brings you here today?” You asked, dropping the wrench on the table, and turning to look at her. You were in a wife pleaser, grime and oil sticking to it as well as a little on your face. Sevika could swear her heart started beating just a little faster than before when you looked at her the way you did.

Your eyes half-lidded.

“Why do you look so tired?” Sevika asked, “You look like shit,” she added in an attempt to harden the edges of her demeanor.

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically, “Just been working on this for a while,” you nodded to the custom limb sitting on the table.

“Two questions; for whom is it and when was the last time you slept?”

You sighed softly, looking back at the arm and then at her.

You looked again at the arm, grabbing something out of your toolbox and began tinkering away, “For you and… haven't slept for 45 hours,” you said in a low tone.

Sevika was flabbergasted for a good few minutes and didn't say anything, “I…” she blinked and took a bit to respond, “That's— you don't have to…”

You looked at her with your tired eyes, “I don't have to but I want to. And I'll make the mechanics so complicated and advanced, you yourself won't be able to break it.”

Sevika chuckled at that, “Still feisty,” she crossed her arms, mechanical arm whirring as she did so, “Tell me about these mechanics…”

“Well, the latch is harder and not as thin as your current one, so it'll fit into the shoulder socket perfectly. I've made it so that the Shimmer tanks have a rubber edging, I don't want any leaks.  Uh—” you looked at the arm, turning it to see it better, “Adding some locks here and there so it can't be ripped out in a fight, that tends to happen as I've… observed.” Sevika rolled her eyes at that but nodded in begrudging approval.

You went on, “I've also decided to change the pressure gauges, and really measure the amount of Shimmer needed, I doubt you need as much as you intake now because overdoses can be deadly, and with the—”

Suddenly you felt warm hands wrap around your muscles, somehow easily engulfing them because of how large they were, and pull you closer to Sevika. Her hot breath brushed over your face, reddening your cheeks at an instant. She shut your blabber with a kiss, a soft kiss to your lips which didn't last to be as soft as it started. Her tongue rubbed against your bottom lip, pushing inside your mouth.

“Mmmm…” you weakly moan against her mouth, you were too tired to fight it. Too tired to put up the strong act and melted right there in her arms. You let out a content sigh when she pulled back, smiling down at you.

“Yeah, you like that?” 

Now, Sevika was naked, standing at the corner of your now closed garage. You were on your knees in front of her, undoing her zipper with your teeth as you maintained undeterred eye contact with her. Sevika muttered, “Fuck,” under her breath as she held your head, fingers threading in your short hair.

You placed one calloused hand at her inner thigh to part them, the other hand coming to spread her folds. “There she is… so wet.”

Sevika blushed, head tilting back slowly as she closed her eyes, squeezing the lids shut. You giggled at her reaction, wrapping your lips around Sevika's engorged clit. Sevika's breath hitched, her fingers tightening against your silky locks.

“Fuck, you ever gave another woman head?” Sevika asked. You smiled against her clit, sucking it hard before letting it go with a pop, “Mhm,” you stuck your tongue out, collecting her arousal on it and shoving the warm, wet muscle into her hole.

Sevika clenched, “Oh, gosh!” She gasped and rutted her hips against your face. You grinned and sucked her pussy harder than before, your tongue lapping up all her juices eagerly.

You loved the way she tasted. The right bit of sweet and salty, not to mention the way her taste lingered on your tongue even after you swallowed.

It didn't take a long while for Sevika to cum in your mouth, you held your mouth wide open, collecting her release in your mouth. “You taste so well, baby,” you swallowed and got up slowly, “Such a good girl,” your hand caressed her jaw, bringing her close for a brief kiss.

Sevika let out a small “ungh” as she returned the kiss, your tongue slipping in her mouth this time as you pushed one knee between her legs. She grinded her sensitive clit against your rough leather pants, moaning against your mouth. Sevika was so vulnerable at that moment, you couldn't help feeling a small sense of victory somewhere deep in your chest.

As you both parted, Sevika hastily unbuttoned your pants before she forced them off your hips with your panties, “I ain't kneeling,” she said. Sevika's thick fingers found your hole, rubbing your entrance, teasing it gently.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that,” you said in an almost condescending tone.

Sevika spared you a glare before her fingers pushed inside, “I know, I know, don't boss me.” She started moving her fingers, you smirked, seeing the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration while she tried to get you to break in her arms, trying so hard to make you moan the way you made her moan.

Sevika grunted, “Why you—” but when she saw that toothy grin on your face, she knew it. You were just being a brat. What's so new about that? Sevika added a third finger, thumb starting to rub your clit and that made you break.

Sleepiness, who? You were moaning so loud you were sure the neighbours heard but you didn't care as you ground your pussy against Sevika's fingers.

Sevika smirked at your motion, fingers digging deeper as she curled them in the perfect spot. Your mouth opened, but this time no sound came out. You knew you were close, your hands gripped Sevika's shoulders almost painfully tight as your entire body tensed up.

“Fuck.” You cursed before your knees buckled, Sevika's mechanical arm came to wrap around your waist, holding you steady as her flesh fingers twisted in that one angle that made you see heaven, “Sevika, fuck!” You orgasmed on her fingers, soaking them. Your juices dripped passed her wrist and onto the dirty garage floor.

“See,” Sevika held out her soaked hand, “So much pent up tension and stress.” You blushed before crossing your arms, “Oh yeah? Wanna take this to bed?”

“If ‘take this’ means you're finally gonna rest properly, sure,” Sevika helped you dress back up and she did too, before heading upstairs so the both of you could now cuddle in peace together.

The best idea for an aftercare session.

[crescenthistory]

your last animagus fic was so sweet! it even made some ideas popped in my mind. i was thinking about feisty (gn) reader being a crow animagus accompanying barty into his mischief, which could be scaring the skittles or pranking people in general. if you could write this, it would be wonderful 💞

(fun fact: crows can mimic sounds such as ambience noise or even human voice, this is so amazing and a bit scary, imagine encounter one while you walk in the woods AAAAAKXNSM!!! i love them so much, thx for reading me yapp xx)

hi lovely<33 thank YOU for yapping to me, i find it very endearing and entertaining 🤲 people who are passionate about what they love>>>>

now, i personally don't think i would be able to write this as a full-length fic, as pranking and mischief is not reallyyyy within my toolbox BUT this is very cute so i'm giving you some belated headcanons 🫂 if anyone's able/willing to write a longer version, please do share with the class and tag me!!

i present to you my thoughts of crow!animagus!reader x barty:

i imagine you become an animagus before you and barty get together

(because if you wanted to do it while the two of you were friends/dating he would INSIST on doing the transformation process with you)

and i think deciding when your relationship is at the point where you can/should divulge that part of yourself would be difficult to pinpoint

so what happens is that you would be laying on the floor beside each other in the astronomy tower, stargazing together. a date of sorts, in the way every second you spend with barty somehow feels like a date as he is fully, wholly dedicated to you.

the later it got, the more you two would switch between genuinely trying to find and remember constellations and just goofing around

those type of late night conversations where you seem to get to know someone 100x more in just a few hours than you otherwise could over the spans of months

asking each other increasingly deep questions

"tell me something about you no one else knows"

when else would you get the perfect opportunity to reveal your animagus status to your boyfriend?

stupidly, you feared his reaction. would he be upset with you hiding it for so long? would he think your animagus form was silly? would he look at you differently?

but when i tell you this man shrieked with excitement

"show me, show me, show me"

when you turn into a crow and fly around him in circles, he genuinely would jump up excitedly and twirl in the same direction you're flying so that his eyes never have to leave your form, laughing and screaming

the only thing on his mind would be how spectacular and remarkable you are, excitement and love filling any space that the hostility you feared might have fostered

not to mention; "that's bloody badass, baby"

you would land carefully on his shoulder and barty would scoop you up close to his body, almost squishing you and making you squeak

"we're gonna have to perfect the art of cuddling with crows," he would say gravely

barty, the secret academic weapon and swot that he is, would SO do his due diligence with research immediately upon the discovery

we're talking library trips, tomes and scrolls purchases, books upon books of muggle literature on crows and wizard literature on animagi that he chases through faster than you could imagine

when he learns of crows being able to mimic noises, including human voices, his mind floods with ideas

"oh, we are going to have fun baby"

that's how you start accompanying him into his many tirades and mischief

most of the time it is just as a companion, the crow sitting on his shoulder as he runs around the castle wreaking havoc

it adds to barty's general intimidating aura and the reputation that just barely proceeds him — the crazy guy with the facial piercings, acid green streaks in his hair, punkish style, chokers and a volatile wand now also has a crow with him everywhere? hell no, people steer clear of him

it doesn't help that many students swear he talks to the crow and seems to hold an entire conversation with it, based solely on its body language and occasional caws

"i swear to bloody merlin, the crow looked at me when i spoke badly of junior. it's like it understood, some human-like capabilities or what not, fucking scary."

it doesn't take long before you become a more active partner in his shenanigans, though

you will call out people's names to get them to enter a room barty needs them in (because let's be real, if barty called for them, nobody would be stupid enough to fall for it and go to him)

you deliver letters and packages for him, you caw behind first years so that they jump in fear, you borrow people's clips and rings and pens

poor regulus and evan get the most shit from you among the skittles, while dorcas finds the most amount of entertainment through it

i imagine it's through your animagus form that the skittles learn that when pandora talks to animals she actually does understand them -> you two have lengthy conversations, much to everyone's eventual chagrin

and while the skittles of course all learn you're an animagus, no one else in the castle does

(though i imagine the marauders have their strong suspicions from early on)

barty was already showering you in gifts — "my father's outrages amounts of money should be put to good" — but now he has taken it upon himself to get you anything and everything shiny he sees

"you're a literal crow and i'm your dutiful partner. i have to contribute to the nest."

(mind you, this would likely be a thing even before he ever sees you seek out something shiny while in animagus form; he just assumes)

ironically, barty starts behaving like a crow himself in how he seeks out shiny trinkets for you

and while you try and tell him you don't have those instincts when outside of your animagus form... you actually really do and you revel in the love and attention

after a while, i do believe he would attempt to become an animagus too

honestly, he would begin getting on your case about it every single day from finding out. same way he would immediately learn his s/o's native language imo — he needs to be included.

especially if regulus is a cat animagus in this universe, because his two favourite people simply cannot have something in common that he is excluded from. this man is the epitome of fomo

my default animagus form for barty is a raccoon, but i think he would also make a lot of fun as a bat animagus which fits perfect with you as a crow

can you imagine, just you two flying around on school grounds and later on in your neighbourhood when you move in together?

the crow and the bat<3(shit crazy boy who loves them)

[rubiehart]

PS. i am madly in love with you

or, the one where jj reassures you that every change your body went through after bringing your daughter into the world makes you even more beautiful to him…

when his truck tires roll over the gravelly road leading up to the driveway, it’s late. he’d texted you earlier and told you he’d been caught up with a sputtering engine on this guy’s truck who needed it for an urgent journey across county tomorrow morning, so it couldn’t wait.

he switches off the engine, twisting and pulling out the key and dropping them into the pocket of his work cargos. he whips off his cap to run a ringed hand through his hair, glancing at the house to see that pretty much every light was off, the only source of luminosity being the soft amber gleam of the living room lamp, signifying the possibility that you could still be awake, waiting up for him.

that thought makes the tension of the day clinging tight to the muscles of his shoulders and back loosen a little, heart warming at the image of your sweet face after a shitty day, the way your prescence seemed to instill some kind of calm and stability in him he could never explain, no matter what mood he’d come home in.

he grasps the handle of his toolbox in his hand, pushing open the driver’s side door, combat boots crunching against the gravelly stone as he made his way up the porch steps, swiping his boots on the ‘welcome’ mat infront of the door before pushing the key into the lock and pushing open the door, wary of his volume because of the high possibility that you’d already put quinn to sleep hours ago.

his eyes scan over the living room, throw blanket rumpled on the couch like you’d been laying there, a mug of what he assumed hot chocolate on the coffee table, tv turned off. he dashes his keys into the little bowl on the table in the entryway, clearing his throat as he hangs up his flannel, rubbing absently at dirt marks on his now bare forearms, eyebrows furrowed as he scans the conjoined kitchen and living room for you.

he’s immediately filled with a silent sense of relief at the faint sounds of the exhausted floorboards in the hallway to the bedrooms creaking softly, and then your figure appearing from around the corner, adorned in one of his old, threadbare muscle tanks, evidently without a bra from the eyeful of delectable side boob he’s getting, paired with a pair of plaid sleep shorts that cling to your newly thicker hips and thighs.

a subconscious grin overtakes his face at the sight of you, that cold, unrelenting grip the ache of physical labour had on his body momentarily melting away and forgotten at the sight and smell of your warm presence, like baby powder and that candle you always have burning, just about the only thing you spend money on for yourself, and something else uniquely you that wraps him in a warm blanket now that he’s home with his family.

you gravitate towards him without a word, eyes soft but there’s no trace of a smile, he assumes it’s because you’re exhausted and he’d never blame you, looking after a 6 month old all day alone must be tough, especially because quinnie was quite the milk monster.

his hands immediately find home on your hips, the warmth of your skin even through the soft cotton has him exhaling softly, eyes trained on your tired ones as you look up at him, cherub cheeks a little flushed and he realises you’d maybe been taking a nap, that’s where you’d been, also the reason why you looked so out of it.

‘you look tired, baby.’ he murmurs, drawing you forward when you start to shift your weight in a silent need to be closer, to have his chest to yours. maybe that’s what he needed too, subconsciously, just to be close to the woman he loved after a long day.

‘i missed you.’ you reply, voice barely above a whisper, cheek smushed to his chest where you’ve pushed herself as close as you can be to him, he inhales and gets another whiff of that soft figgy scent of your shampoo. he feels you press a soft kiss to his chest over the cotton of his greasy wifebeater, aware of his musk after a long day at the auto shop but you didn’t seem to care at all, you never had.

‘yeah?’ he smiles, and it’s playful, his tongue flicking out to lick at the rubied skin, hands sliding up to gently cup your head to bring it away from his chest, eyes on your own with a gentle smirk. ‘how much?’

‘too much.’ you murmur back, a lilt of a mirrored playfulness in your tone, eyes soft as you gaze up into his eyes. his hands grip your head, albeit a little aggressively but its cuteness aggression if anything, smushing a wet kiss to your temple, like a freakin’ mutt.

you murmur in protest, a soft breath of laughter evident and nuzzle your face against his shirt in attempt to remove the gross saliva he’d left as he watches, chuckling softly, chest rumbling against yours. your arms snake up and around his neck and you jump up into his expecting arms.

he catches you with little issue, his strong hands holding just under your thighs and ass as you koala yourself to his warm chest. a knowing smile graces his face as you push yourself against him, feeling the bare swell of your soft breasts through the thin cotton of the muscle tank you’re draped in, knowing exactly what you’re getting at.

he squeezes your thighs in his big hands gently, calloused thumbs rubbing soothingly over the soft skin. ‘oh, baby,’ he cooes. ‘you’re needy today, ain’t you?’

he starts to take slow steps towards the bedroom, practically a snail’s pace because his sole focus is on his angel in his hold, snuggling yourself against his chest. you rest your head on his shoulder and he watches your eyes flutter closed, soft lips murmuring, fingernails tracing soft patterns over the back of his neck where your arms are still looped around. ‘just feel safe like this.’

he hums, pressing a reverent kiss to your forehead, not sloppy and teasing like the earlier one, a gentle one that reassured you that he knew the security your body was craving in his hold, the security only he could provide you, and he was more than happy to do so. ‘i gotcha,’ before nudging open the bedroom door with the toe of his boot, mindful to not be loud for the sake of quinn, who you’d no doubt probably taken ages to manage to put down for the night.

you nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck, not caring one bit for the tangy musk wafting from him after his long day fixing up motors in the scorching outer banks sun, you’ve grown accustomed to it and it’s almost a comfort to you by now. being close enough to smell it means you’re exactly where you want to be, right next to him.

he grins softly at your sweet search for closeness as he shoves a few stray items of clothing over on the bed, making a mental note to toss them in the hamper later, knowing how you get about things being untidy.

he deposits you gently onto your shared bed with a slight bounce against the mattress, pressing a soft kiss to your temple where you sit with one leg tucked under your butt, the other pulled up to rest your chin on your knee, tired, sunken eyes watching him whip off his dirty wifebeater.

your mind whirs with your next thought, watching him pluck a clean towel off of the pile you’d neatly folded this morning whilst quinn was napping, the only time you really get to yourself to get things done.

‘are you showerin’ now?’ you murmur, scratching at the back of your neck, him seemingly reading your mind, just as the words left your mouth, plucking a second towel off of the pile with a knowing smile.

he chuckles softly to himself at the look on your face, a little downward smile at the way he knew, eyes soft. everything seemed to make you emotional lately. ‘yeah, you comin’? offering out a towel to you with a raised eyebrow, knowing you’d been waiting for the offer.

your pretty features immediately light up with a grin, cherub cheeks blushy, like a switch had been flicked on because jj wanted to spend time with you. its a stupid thing to even consider, everyone seeing how utterly obsessed and in love jj is with you, has been since you were both 17, but pregnancy had fucked up your emotions and he wasn’t ever planning on holding that against you.

‘course i am.’ you hum playfully, hopping up from the bed and snatching the towel from his offering hand, sauntering towards the bathroom doorway with him in tow.

he chuckles in response, amused by the immediate switch in your mood he’d seen far too many times by now to still be impressed. ‘good girl,’ he praises, a smirk on his lips as he swats your ass.

you let out a soft snort of laughter, bare feet padding against the bathroom floor as you saunter inside, jj turning back into the bedroom, seemingly have forgotten to do something..

whilst he’s finishing up whatever he’s doing you undress completely, sliding down the sleep shorts and letting them pool at your feet, sliding off the threadbare muscle tank and immediately that lump slides up your throat and lodges itself there - some kind of hot burn in the base of your stomach accompanying like always.

you’re standing stark naked when jj walks back in, immediately crossing behind you to start the shower and get out your products - he’s not even consciously realising he’s doing it, going through the motions as he focuses in on you infront of the mirror above the sink.

he doesn’t miss this pre-shower stare in the mirror you seem to have, only really when you’re going solo and he can see you with that scrutinising gaze through the crack in the door. he can’t help the way his gaze drifts over you, standing in your natural state, the way your body has changed after pregnancy - the softness of your thighs, the thickness of your hips, the fullness of your milk heavy breasts. he has to swallow and plead silently with the halfie beneath his pants right now as he adjusts the temperature of the spray.

he pulls back after checking the temperature, unbuttoning and shucking down his cargos and boxers in one go, head turned slightly over his shoulder as his gaze traces your body, your back facing him as you pick apart your reflection in the mirror. he can’t help but admire how effortlessly beautiful you are like this - bare faced, not shaved for a while, completely bare and natural and so perfect.

he runs his hands under the water a final time, hoping you’ll take the hint and turn to see him ready to get in. but you don’t. ‘you comin’ in or what?’ he murmurs, soft grin on his face at the sight of your thicker body he can’t get enough of.

‘mhm, one sec.’ you hum, voice a little cracking and shaky, eyes never meeting his as you turn to the side in the mirror, running the soft pads of your fingers over the faint stretch marks that dribble down the sides of your stomach.

he notices the way you touch your soft tummy with an expression of almost disgust, and it makes his heart hurt at that looking your face he knows means tears are soon to be trickling down your pretty cheeks if he doesn’t intervene. he takes a few steps closer, broad frame pressed behind yours in the mirror, gaze meeting yours through the reflective surface, his big, rough hands sliding gently to rest on top of yours, covering the soft marks.

‘you’re beautiful,’ he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, chest rumbling against your back, breath hot and ticklish against the back of your neck. ‘you’ve given me a daughter, and these-‘ he says, his thumb gently grazing over the stretch marks. ‘-are proof of that.’

you smile softly at him through the mirror, blinking back the tears that are brimming in your gleaming eyes - you don’t really know where all this is coming from, you’ve never reacted this way to your changed body before, not so viscerally anyway, and definitely not infront of jj. you don’t hate it, really - it’s just different, you’re only looking.

he notices the way your lips tremble through the smile, how it doesn’t reach those beautiful eyes, instead they’re filled with a storm of emotions you’re struggling to keep contained. like a shaken soda ready to burst. he wraps his arms around you fully, pulling you back against his chest as he looks at you through the mirror.

‘hey,’ he whispers, his breath warm and tingly against your neck, and your belly still feels warm - but it’s not that white hot embarrassment, it’s something like flipping - and you think maybe it’s your heart. ‘you’re so beautiful, m’girl.’ he kisses the spot on your neck just underneath your ear, lips faint but steady, to let you know it was honest.

you let out soft, almost pained whimper at that, squeezing your eyes shut and taking in a deep breath, trying to control your breathing as his arms squeeze around your waist a little tighter, a comforting motion to hopefully help bring you back down.

holding you close, he nuzzles his nose into your neck, placing a trail of soft kisses along the smooth skin of your shoulders and neck. his hands move slowly and reverently, as if cherishing every new dip, curve and ripple your body had gained from bringing his baby girl into the world, whispering praises like sweet honey into your hair and against your skin. ‘so damn beautiful,’ he whispers. ‘in every way.’

‘it’s just..’ you start softly, sniffling to collect your thoughts, to grasp how you truly felt about the changes to your body. your hands graze from your sides to rest over his atop the soft pouch of your stomach, his hands turning to hold yours, stroking your knuckles patiently as he waits for you to talk. ‘i don’t hate it.. it’s just different,”

he continues to dot soft kisses along your neck, squeezing your hands gently in his larger ones before his head lifts to meet your eyes again, taller frame looming over yours through the reflection. ‘different ain’t bad.’ he reassures, voice a little gruff yet still gentle, thumbs rubbing little circles over the knuckles of your pointer fingers. ‘it’s a sign of what you’re capable of, baby.. what you’ve done for our girl..’

‘i know-‘ you whisper, nose crinkling as your voice breaks, cutting yourself off as one hot tear rolls down your flushed cheek, your back sweaty where it’s pushed against his chest. ‘s’ just,’ you try again, letting out a soft breath through your lips. ‘it’s hard.’

at the break in your voice his heart breaks a little, embrace around your waist tightening, his strong body enveloping your softer one. ‘i know it’s hard, momma,’ he mumbles, craning his neck around and pressing a soft kiss to the burning skin of your smooth cheek, tasting the salt of your tears on his rubied lips.

‘but you’re not alone in this. i’m here, and i ain’t goin’ anywhere.’ his hands holding yours up a little off your belly, shaking them gently as if to physically promise as well as verbally, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror, but his voice remains gentle despite the passion burning in his gaze.

he holds your gaze in the mirror for a few seconds, seeing you’ve sensed the finality in his words and maybe they’ve stuck - he prays they’ve stuck. seeing you like this is his least favourite thing he’s ever experienced, he’s decided. he continues to hold you tightly for as long as you need him to, content to stay here all night if thats what you needed.

his body is a protective shield around yours, chest molded to your back, the gently spray of water still echoing off of the tile floor of the shower and making for a calming lull.

after a few minutes he senses you calm down, your tight grip on his hands gradually loosened so he turns you in his arms, chest to chest, eyes never dipping from your face despite your naked body being right there. he kisses away your tears and listens when you pipe up with a slight hitch in your breathing.

"when we get outta the shower-um- i bought these new like- oil things... that you rub onto your stomach n' boobs... like postpartum, y'know?" you seem fidgety and ramble prone but he has no less patience than ever with his girl as you articulate to him what you need, without directly telling him through your slight anxiety.

he’s immediately nodding at the mention of oil’s and postpartum - willing to do anything you ask him to if it’s going to help make you feel better in your own skin, that’s the only thing he wants, to support you through this rocky journey.

‘you got ‘em? ‘ he asks softly, remembering you’d mentioned something about them one night during some pillow talk, his hands still in yours and rubbing gently circles over your soft knuckles with his calloused fingers.

‘yeah,’ you huff softly, a deep exhale of relief at his reaction - not like you were expecting anything different, like he hasn’t been the utmost helpful throughout your entire pregnancy and now the ups and downs of post partum, it was just the anxiety making you doubtful of even the person you trusted more than anyone or anything ever.

‘i’ll help you with ‘em, alright? he reassures you gently, one hand lifting from yours to swipe away a tear you hadn’t realised had even fallen, so wrapped up in how loved he made you feel every single day. ‘whatever you need me to do.’

‘okay.’ you nod, voice barely above a whisper, afraid if you spoke any louder the tears would start again, but out of gratitude this time around. you murmur an ever so quiet ‘thankyou’ as he picks you up effortlessly against his chest and carries you towards the shower.

‘you don’t gotta thank me, baby,’ he murmurs as he sets you down on your feet, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as he closes the glass door behind the two of you, trapping the steam inside and fogging up the glass. he guides you carefully towards the warm stream, arms draped around your waist from behind as the water cascades over both of your bodies. ‘you know i got you.’ he whispers, lips pressed to the top of your head, pecking the wet, silky strands gently, his hands leave you for just a second to grab the shampoo bottle from the shower caddy, the soft fig one he loves smelling on you. and in this moment, things felt okay.

you did know, he’s always got you no matter what.

[alexanderwales]

The show Adolescence has four episodes, and each episode is a single continuous shot. This is crazy impressive, even with hidden cuts (which there supposedly weren't here), since these are hour-long episodes with a fair amount of camera movement and pretty intensive acting performances.

This is cool, but I kept asking myself "okay, why?"

Camera movements are supposed to be motivated. You cut at specific times for specific reasons. When you don't cut, there should be a reason. And when you're doing a full-episode oner, you're removing a lot of tools from the toolbox, like shot-reverse shot, Kuleshov effect, etc, so in theory there should be a really good reason.

And here ... it's a show about a 13-year-old boy accused of murder, and his friends, and family, and the detective leading the case. On the surface there's nothing obvious to me about why it's all a single shot. There's something in how it impacts emotionally in the first episode, but maybe not as much in the later episodes. There's something in how it changes your understanding of the geography of a place, the way that it makes you feel more "in" a place.

But I'm not entirely sure that it works consistently here. Sometimes it feels like a series of scenes that just happen to be happening with the camera not cutting away.

Maybe, because at least some of the show is about the internet and its impact on kids, the not cutting is supposed to make a point, to make you sit in this reality. Not cutting away as a way of contrasting the rapidfire context switching and cutting of your average TikTok. I would be willing to accept that interpretation.

(I went looking for some statement by the creators about why this choice was made, after forming my own opinions, and the only thing I could find was "for immersion", which ... is that a complaint people have? "I couldn't get immersed because of all these pesky cuts"? I could understand it as a cinema verite thing, but that's different from immersion, IMO.)

[p-seduonym]

Switched At Birth (Part Nine)

A/N: Annnd I'm back! Hey y'all I just needed a breather for a bit. My brain was indundated me with ideas so I took a break. But I'm here now! Here's a hefty chapter to compensate for my absence. It's a bit more character centered, explaining Melissa's neglect in the Batfam. Also, thank you all so much for your ideas! I promise I'll get into a few of them after this chapter.

Taglist (I'll add you if you ask): @von-jour, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @kenyummy, @bunniotomia, @ch1cky-093, @toxicthotsyndrome68, @cynniee, @icefox8155, @eyeless-kun, @c4xcocoa, @ed15fashionista, @yourtypicalhuman09, @fightmebissh. @tsuniio, @fantasyhopperhea, @type-ink, @dirtydiavolo, @colorfulgardenerduck, @seemeee3, @ironsaladwitch, @yumeravenclaw, @jjsmeowthie, @snowy-violet, @wizzerreblogs, @ratterpatter, @gremlin-dumpster-fire-art, @anonymoustext, @a-heavenly-hell, @holderoflostmemories, @ilovecoffe0, @presleyamos, @lordbugs, @shyenemyperson, @adrakeshoard, @sadeem575, @nebsisdead, @moon0goddess

Yandere!Batfam X Switched! Fem! Reader X Yandere!Wayne!OC

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Tatienne Crow was your birth mother.

From the many glossy fashion spreads and tabloid snippets to the singular, sterile obituary, you'd pieced together a reasonable portrait. She had been young—too young, maybe—vivacious, and sharp in a way that made people both admire and fear her. In every photograph, she looked like she knew a secret no one else did. As if she was in on the joke of the world. A model turned muse, turned fleeting cautionary tale.

She lived fast and loose, long faded magazines said. Hopped continents on invite alone, slipped into parties through back entrances, and tangled herself in the arms of men who had more money than morals. There were plenty of rumors and scandals, of addiction, of various paramours, of a baby born from a particularly messy affair.

That's what she was like.

On paper, at least.

From Mel, you had heard her side– the version not meant for publication.

“She loved hard,” Melissa confessed the day you met, eyes glassy but unblinking. “Like… it was the only way she knew how to prove she was real.”

And that was all she could muster.

So you were left to find the rest yourself.

A light drizzle painted the street under the eerie silver beams of the full moon. It was the kind of Gotham rain that made everything feel blurred at the edges.

This building is old, art deco styled—elegant but weary. Previously housing models, designers, socialites, it now mostly holds ghosts and legacy leases. The doorman was long gone, and the security system, not so lucky.

Entering the service stairwell, you quickly climbed the emergency stairs with deliberate steps. Floor after floor, you ascended until you reached the twenty first floor. The door to the hallway was locked, but not for long. You were far from an expert, but you still fetched the tool from your duffle and kneel. It was pretty crude; just a bobby pin snapped in half and fixed to a paper clip. You were still learning, after all. But, still, you were determined, and more than a little curious. That helps.

And your efforts were rewarded with a soft click. 

The carpeted floors muffled your steps as you crept into the dim hallways.The number plate on the door is still there: 2102. The gold is tarnished, a little crooked, like it was trying desperately not to be seen.The door was shut firmly, so you fished out your second tool: a simple screwdriver from the garage’s toolbox. Feeling oddly calm and collected, you began to unscrew the door from its hinges. Removing the last screw, you gently coaxed the door from its groove in the doorway.

It gave way with a heavy and reluctant sigh, like the apartment itself resented being disturbed. 

Regardless, you stepped inside, crossing the threshold of the ornate mausoleum. 

Dust spilled in the slant of the moonlight, as a long abandoned world unfurls before you; silk curtains half-drawn, wine stained carpet, a faint scent of roses and smoke clinging to the air like an old memory.

Everything is still here. Unlived-in, untouched. Like someone meant to come back, but never did.

You moved past the foyer into the living room. The furniture is lush and fading. You spotted a glass ashtray that still held a single, half-burned cigarette. Beneath a wall of vinyls, a record player sat idle. Diana Ross. Nico. Bowie.

You didn’t bother with the lights, whether they still worked or not.

Instead you just walked deeper into the gloom, a quiet silhouette in your mother’s tomb. The city buzzed incessantly outside. And here, in the dark, you feel something almost ancient settle over your shoulders.

Not grief.

Not yet.

Just weight.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw Melissa’s name flashing.

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Instead, you looked around once more, feeling the silence pulse around you like a second heartbeat. Then, as the phone buzzed again, you brought it to your ear.

“Hey,” you said, tone careful. You didn’t tell her where you were.

“Hey,” Melissa replied, her voice soft, like she already knew. “Is this a bad time?”

You turn towards the window, stretching from the carpeted floor to the ceiling, decorated with a murky, glass chandelier. The Gotham skyline blinked in gold and gray beyond the rain-streaked glass.

“No,” you answered, gently dragging your fingertips along the sofa. You could see a slight discoloration in the path. “Just on a walk. Thinking.”

Melissa, bless her heart, didn’t call out your lie. Rather, she just hummed in acknowledgement. 

“About what?”

The air grew silent around you. You could only hear Melissa breathing as well as some light shuffling in the background. You continued through your trek through the recesses of your mother’s home. Instead of answering, you replied with another question.

“Hey…tell me more about her?”

“Hmm?” Melissa made a questioning noise. “About who?”

“You know.”

There was a pause on the line. You could hear the faint sound of water running in the background—maybe a sink, maybe rain outside her window

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…hard to talk about her”

You reached a room that looked like the master suite. A large plush bed, with a walk-in closet. The air was stale—thick with dust and the faded sweetness of long-dead perfume. Something floral, maybe jasmine, but heavier, more decadent. It clung to the walls, the drapes, the velvet settee in the corner, like memory embalmed in fragrance. Against the far wall, a vanity sat coyly. And as you approached, you saw the remnants of Tatienne.

Your fingers ghosted over an old lipstick tube—Tom Ford, discontinued years ago. Your reflection in the vanity mirror was dim, your face softly fractured by dust.

“You don’t have to, if it’s too much”

“N-No, you deserve this much. She-”

Melissa cut herself off with a sigh. Without seeing it, you knew she was likely fidgeting with her hand. 

“She was a lot,” She said it like a confession. “ Like– too much, in every way. Too young, too messy, too beautiful, too loud–”

You stared into the mirror. If you looked closely enough, you felt like Tatienne was staring back.

You didn’t say anything. She needed room, not encouragement. 

“--Like she was born too big for the world and just kept cracking at the edges trying to fit into it.”

You opened a container of rouge. A jagged crack split the makeup in two halves.

“She used to wear perfume that smelled like grapefruit and cigarettes. Had this way of putting lipstick on while yelling at someone on the phone. And when she laughed?” Melissa gave a weak chuckle. “You’d think the world was ending. It always felt like the last good sound you’d ever hear.”

There was another pause. A quieter one this time.

“But…she loved too much.” Melissa’s voice lowered. “Like she had too much of it, and it hurt her. She never talked about any family. I think something went wrong along the way and they don’t talk anymore. But, she still wanted to be loved, you know? There were a lot of guys. None of them stuck around for long”

Her voice grew dreamy, like she was in trance. 

“To love and be loved…isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Melissa sighed. 

“I think she loved Bruce. You probably know how that turned out. He…wasn’t around when I was little, I think that hurt her too. She didn’t say it though”

“‘Drug-addict,’ ‘Whore’... I didn't really know what those meant when I was little,” Melissa murmured. “...but I knew they were bad.”

“She loved me. I know she did. Things…just got too bad for her.”

As Melissa spoke, you moved deeper into the closet.

It was larger than you expected. Almost theatrical in size—more like a showroom than a personal space. And yet, it felt strangely hollow. The kind of emptiness that wasn’t born from disuse, but from careful, deliberate curation. A life stripped for display.

The good pieces were gone. That much was clear. No archival Dior, no high-fashion heels or designer handbags. In their place: moth-eaten furs, loud sequined gowns with dated cuts, satin robes dulled from wear. The clothes that remained were ostentatious but not luxurious—cheap, performative, and loud in a way that felt desperate.

Like they were trying to be seen.

A few empty hangers swung gently from the metal rack, clicking together like wind chimes. On a low shelf, a pair of strappy stilettos sat abandoned, one heel broken. A single run-down hatbox was tucked in the corner, partially open, revealing feathers and crushed netting—stagewear, maybe. Costume jewelry glittered under a faint layer of dust.

“I-I really didn’t want to go with Bruce, but I didn’t have anyone else. I thought he’d have problems, like she did, but would still care. Would still love me, cause I was his daughter, right?”

You crouched in the closet, one hand resting on the floor for balance. The air in here was heavier somehow, thicker. You ran your fingers along a sequined dress that caught the dim light like a broken disco ball.

“I thought that meant something,” Melissa continued, her voice thinner now. “But it didn’t. Not really. He barely looked at me. The others... they didn’t either.”

You let the silence stretch, watching dust particles drift lazily in the air like ash.

“Dick, he was nice, you know? It took a bit to see him after I got there, but he always smiled. Always said ‘Hi’ and ‘How are you?’. It was a bit much at first, but it felt nice.”

She gave a small, humorless huff.

“But, I kinda knew I wasn't important to him. Not really. He always had something else to do or someone else to be with. I-It’s not like I needed him around all the time, I just never had a brother before and hoped we could spend time together. He was everyone’s ‘big brother’, right?”

You found an old pair of stilettos knocked sideways in a pile. One heel was broken. You gently set them upright, for no real reason.

“I kind of realized he was just being that. ‘Nice’, I mean, cause that’s what you do with strangers.”

Your fingers drifted along a rack of disheveled dresses. One of them still bore a faint perfume—jasmine warped into something more acrid with age. You noted the odd arrangement: heavier pieces in the front, lighter ones stuffed toward the back. Like someone had stopped caring how things were organized.

“Jason was … complicated. Came from Crime Alley and his mom had problems too. I tried to understand, even if I didn’t completely get it. I guess I was too much–” She chuckled, without any mirth. “He…didn’t like me. I walked behind him one time and he just…snapped. I-I guess I was too quick or too quiet or something? He grabbed me. Pinned me to the wall. I thought he was going to break my arm, he twisted it so hard.”

You knelt to examine a box tucked underneath a sagging shelf. It contained several Polaroids—some curled from moisture, others scrawled on in red pen. Men’s names. Phone numbers. A few love notes, probably never sent. Each one another thread of the life Tatienne had tried to weave, only for it to unravel again and again.

“Left bruises for a while. He said it was a reflex, but what kind of reflex does that? Dick said I should be more careful next time…I didn’t talk to him after that.”

The residual droplets of rain had long passed dried on your hoodie, but a chill still raked itself down your body. Even then, you didn’t shiver.

“Tim was a miracle child. A prodigy to be proud of. It was hard being his age, cause he just accomplished so much already. I thought we could relate, even a little. But he always had this look like he was talking to a child. We came to the manor at the same time, but I always felt out of place. Not like him”

You closed the box.

Not everything here was worth keeping. But it was worth knowing.

This wasn’t just a closet.

It was the final echo of a woman who had tried to live larger than her circumstances—who had loved hard, fallen harder, and still left something behind.

“Damian was always someone I couldn’t figure out. He never acted like a kid. Never talked like one, either. But the first day I met him, he looked at me with…disgust. I didn’t know why, but It felt weird to be completely dressed down by a kid, but– ” Her voice sounded suspiciously watery. 

“Steph was sweet. For like, a week. She gave me a tour of the manor. Giggled about how weird it all was. Acted like we were gonna be friends. Then she just… stopped. Like I didn’t pass some invisible test. One day she was inviting me to sit with her in the garden, the next she barely looked up when I said hi. Cass never spoke to me. It was almost a relief, really, after all that..”

You halted, stopping your search in its place. Pressing the phone closer to your ear, your heard her take a shaky breath.

“I tried,” she said. “I really did. I was polite. Quiet. I didn’t ask for anything. I just… I just wanted to belong somewhere. I thought if I didn’t cause trouble, they’d make room for me. But I was always just... extra. Like a guest that didn’t know when to leave”

“I thought maybe if I could be more like them—more polished, more useful, more whatever—I’d matter. But they already had each other. And I was just some charity case nobody knew what to do with. Not a sister. Not a daughter.”

You stood now, slowly, carefully. Your gaze drifted back to the mirror. Your reflection was still dim, still fractured. But not just yours. Hers too. Hers especially.

“They didn’t see me,” Melissa whispered. “Not really.”

And still, she hadn’t raised her voice. Not once.

You realized, maybe she never had.

Not to them.

Not to anyone.

Not even when she should have.

You looked at your reflection again—dusty, dim, and still. But something inside you had shifted. A thread pulled taut, then snapped. You’d always known Melissa was lonely. But not like this. Not this hollow.

You brought the phone back to your ear, voice low but certain.

“They’ll see you now.”

Melissa didn’t answer right away. You imagined her curling tighter into herself, unsure whether she’d heard you right.

“I mean it,” you said, firmer this time. “Whatever it takes. I’ll make them look. I’ll make them see you.”

A long silence passed on the line, soft as breath.

Then, faintly:

“…Thank you.”

Right before you hit "End Call", Mel whispered to you, almost a confession.

"--she would have loved you, y'know?"

You ended the call a moment later but didn’t move. Just stood there, surrounded by remains of a woman who burned too brightly, promising yourself—

You would do it better.

You would wear the name, the smile, the war paint of wealth.

You’d step into the light like it belonged to you.

And when they turned to look at you, it would be her they’d see.

It would always be her.

A/N: Sorry for all the names! I know this is suppose to be a reader-insert but it always felt awkward to me to just put stuff life (Y/L/N) or (M/N), you feel me? If you'd don't like it, I'll try to avoid name in the future. Btw, did you notice the subtle similarities between reader and Bruce? I'm asking cause I might have made it too subtle, almost nonexistent.

[mysims-mod]

Unused Essences - Part 1

Seven(!) years ago I wrote about the unused Hedgehog essence and mentioned that there was one other noteworthy unused essence to write about at a later date. It is now later.

But in the seven(!) years since I wrote that post, I discovered a whopping six(!) more unused essences that were previously unknown! I won’t be saving those for later though, I don’t want to wait until 2032! 😩

I originally wanted to do this all in one post. But I hit the 30 image power post limit! So instead I am splitting this into two parts. Part 1 will cover two essences that were previously known but I hadn’t written about here as well as two new unused essences and how these new discoveries were made. Part 2 will cover the remaining four new unused essences.

This is still going to be a long one, so without further ado, here’s Part 1 below the cut.

So first up we have Wood! Just wood.

This essence itself isn’t technically unused. But it isn’t accessible like other essences.

When building an object in the workshop in addition to using essences as paint, you also have access to a “default” swatch.

This is treated by the game as an essence of its very own, complete with its own DEF file and a unique <IsDefault> tag not seen in other essences. 

By copying most of its properties over to a brand new essence file, it can be used like a normal essence!

The only things of note though is the flair model and the icons which are otherwise unused and never seen by the player.

The flair icon, strangely enough, is the same as the paint icons that can be seen in-game. The paint icon showcases an earlier style where they resembled actual paint pallets, as seen in some early footage.

The paint icon also showcases an earlier set of textures they planned to use. Unfortunately the textures for these no longer exist in the files though.

Fun fact about the wood essence model, is that it can be seen in some different early footage. Which is pretty neat!

Next up we have the Acorn, an actual unused essence.

This essence does not have any leftover data, and has to be reconstructed to be accessible in-game. Something that will have to be done for all of the remaining essences to discuss.

By copying and modifying an existing essence file, we can load it up in-game and see that it has a paint set! Sort of. The two patterned swatches work, while the flat swatches are pure white, just like the hedgehog essence.

There’s also a flair model leftover as well! Giving us a good look at what the Acorn essence would have looked like if it was finished.

These are the essences that have been known about already, in fact they have been on the Cutting Room Floor page for several years now. But these next five essences were completely unknown even to myself until just recently. But before I discuss the next few essences, let me explain how I was able to find them in the first place.

These new discoveries were actually made possible thanks to the Cozy Bundle, after “obtaining” a copy of the game, I was able to dump the ROMF, and look through all of the files. From there using Switch Toolbox, I could export all of the new HD textures to regular .PNG files, and amazingly enough, the original file names were intact!

Amazingly enough, all of the essences received new high-resolution textures, even though they are unused. Which is what I will be using for this blog post because seeing these in high resolution is just so much more pleasing to the eye.

Previous methods of dumping textures from the 2008 PC version of MySims did not retain the original file names. While all of the files necessary for these few next essences are inside the 2008 PC version, since the file names were unknown, they couldn’t be reimplemented, until now of course.

This little guy, called ‘applewood’, has a full paint set with fully working flat swatches unlike the previous essences, making it more complete than the other essences discussed so far.

There is also a paint icon leftover! But no flair icon to be seen…

Now internally while it’s referred to as ‘applewood’ the leftover text strings refer to it as ‘Light Wood’ instead, suggesting it was either an earlier incarnation of the final Light Wood essence, or had its original text strings overridden before a new entry made was made for the final Light Wood essence.

This next one is called ‘oakwood’, and with this one we’re back to only having two full pattern swatches and pure white flats.

But thanks to a leftover paint icon, we do know what they would have looked like. And it's brown and beige.

Interestingly this also has the same quirk as Applewood, where internally it is referred to as ‘oakwood’ but the leftover text strings refer to it as ‘Dark Wood’. Suggesting it was either an earlier incarnation of the final Dark Wood essence, or had its original text strings overridden before a new entry was made for the final Dark Wood essence.

Unfortunately This is where I have to cut off for Part 1.

Part 2 will have even more unused essences to discuss, and they get much, much more interesting from here.

You can read Part 2 here.

[liquidcrystalsky]

I've started to post a bit more on my actual not-tumblr blog (i have an atom feed you can follow!), and this was relevant so:

I wrote a big ass blog post on how I rip game stuff! 90% of what i do to rip game files is described in here.

It says how to dump the game files, a bit on how to navigate switch toolbox, how to extract models and textures, as well as how to extract music and sound, and a bit about text and some other stuff.

Yes I am going to update the drive with more stuff i'm not quitting and saying "do it yourself" but i think it's something u should learn if ur interested in anyway.

I've been doing this for a while so i'm not sure what's easy or not anymore so tell me if something is hard to follow and I can edit the post to clarify it more

anyway. goodbye once again

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

I don't know if this is a controversial opinion but I think Nyck would honestly be such a good boyfriend to a neurodiverse partner, like he'd have a bag full of goodies he carries around so he's always prepared

Always prepared||Nyck de vries x GN!autistic!reader

Word count — 698

A/n — Nyck totally would be a great boyfriend for a neurodivergent partner

The air was crisp with the scent of fallen leaves and damp earth, a sure sign that autumn had settled into the park. Nyck adjusted the strap of his messenger bag as he walked alongside his partner. They were quiet today, their hands tucked tightly into their pockets, head tilted slightly down as they avoided the bustling path ahead.

Nyck had learned to notice the small things—how their steps shortened when they felt overwhelmed or how their hands fidgeted with their clothing. It was like piecing together a puzzle only he had the key to.

“You doing okay, babe?” His voice was soft, nonchalant, as though it was just a casual check-in, though his sharp eyes were already scanning for clues.

They hesitated. That alone was a sign. “It’s… a bit much today,” they admitted finally, their voice low. “I didn’t think the park would be this noisy. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.”

Nyck nodded. He didn’t ask why or press further—he never did. He understood that some days didn’t come with an explanation, and that was okay.

“I figured this might happen,” he said with a small smile, swinging the satchel to his front. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a pair of sleek noise-canceling headphones. “Want these?”

Their face softened with relief. “You brought them? I didn’t even think to grab mine.”

“Of course I did.” He held them out. “I like being prepared. Plus, it’s kind of my thing.”

They slid the headphones over their ears, and he watched the transformation as their shoulders relaxed and the tension in their brow eased.

“Better?” he asked.

They nodded, offering him a shy but genuine smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

The two continued walking, Nyck keeping his pace slow and easy, giving them time to re-center. He stayed attuned, noticing the way their hands started to twitch again after a group of kids ran by, their loud laughter cutting through the stillness of the afternoon.

“You’re fidgeting,” he said gently, already fishing through his bag.

They looked down at their hands like they hadn’t even noticed. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I am.”

Nyck pulled out a small, well-loved fidget cube and handed it over.

“You keep one of these in your bag?” they asked, raising an eyebrow as they clicked one of the switches.

“Are you really surprised at this point?” he teased, his lips twitching into a smile.

They chuckled softly. “I shouldn’t be. You’re like a walking toolbox for my brain.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he said with mock seriousness, making them laugh again—a sound he loved to hear.

When they reached a quiet corner of the park near a fountain, Nyck stopped and gestured toward an empty bench. “Want to sit for a bit?”

They nodded, already heading for it. Once seated, they focused on the fountain, watching the water ripple and glisten in the afternoon light. It was clear they were feeling calmer, but Nyck wasn’t ready to let his guard down just yet.

As they watched the fountain, Nyck reached into his bag again and pulled out a collapsible cup and a thermos. “Hot chocolate?” he offered, holding it up like a peace offering.

Their eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Made it this morning, just in case. And yes, it has the tiny marshmallows.”

“You’re ridiculous,” they said, but they were smiling as they took the cup.

“Ridiculously prepared,” Nyck corrected, pouring the steaming liquid into the cup.

They took a sip and sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Careful, or I’ll start believing that,” he joked, nudging them lightly with his elbow.

They leaned into him, resting their head on his shoulder. The tension in their body was completely gone now, replaced by warmth and comfort.

“Nyck,” they said after a few moments, their voice quiet but steady.

“Yeah?”

“You make everything feel… manageable. Even the hard days.”

He tilted his head to look down at them, his eyes soft. “That’s the goal,” he said simply. “You’re never going to have to do this alone.”They smiled at him, that small, tender smile that always felt like the most honest part of them.

[pascalpvnk]

my funny valentine

pairing: pre/no-outbreak!joel miller x gn!reader

summary: joel attempts to ask you to be his valentine empty handed. it simply won’t cut it.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no descriptions of reader (joel picks them up once), no specific timeline (i hc that sarah is 5/6, no mention of joel or reader’s ages) but DoorDash and YouTube tutorials exist, brief smutty mention but no explicit smut, joel’s biceps, assertive reader, silly man thinking he can do the bare minimum, silly man righting his wrongs, one (1) mention of his mother, lots of kisses, lots of fluff, no use of y/n

a/n: i switched from past tense to present tense midway through writing, so if anything was missed in editing in the beginning, please let me know :’) this is a very action driven fic rather than the world building I’m used to so I’m sorry if it’s repetitive. not beta’d. divider by @saradika-graphics

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

masterlist // fic recs

The bitter burn of dark roasted beans stimulates your taste buds before being soothed with the coffee creamer in the mixture. The stovetop clock reads 8:09. Normally Joel would be up by seven, have his coffee and breakfast and switch out the laundry by this time. Instead he’s snoring the morning away in his bedroom, probably sprawled out over the whole bed now that you’ve been up for a bit.

You enjoy the quiet as the two Millers are lost in deep slumber. The younger of the two had been worn out playing house with her dolls much past her bedtime. You didn’t mind, as you were waiting for Joel to return home from work anyway. He made his appearance soon after you tucked Sarah into her bed, eyelids heavy and shirt sweat and dirt stained.

Exhaustion was an understatement. You gave him a warm kiss, despite his argument that he smelled bad.

You always stink, I don’t see the issue, you teased him.

A huffed chuckle escaped him as he wrapped his arms around you. Smartass.

You two shared a shower, washing one another’s bodies from the day’s grime gently, relieving stress in more than one way. Joel has always been clingy when he’s tired, his hands never wanting to let you go. So you found yourself pressed up against the cool tile of the shower wall, Joel filling you to the brim until the water ran cold.

He was barely able to pull on a pair of boxers before his body had succumbed to his fatigue the moment his head hit his pillow.

You laid beside him, delicately brushing his damp curls behind his ear, similarly to how you did when you awoke, this time his curls dry and stuck up every which way. 

Joel doesn’t find his way out to the kitchen for another twenty minutes, a pair of plaid sweatpants hanging on for dear life lowly on his hips and a black cotton shirt barely concealing his ever growing biceps.

“Mornin’, baby,” he rasps, kissing the top of your head to grab your attention as you repeat his greeting back. His lips capture yours, groaning at the prominent coffee taste swirling on your tongue. He reluctantly pulls away, admiring the way your eyes sparkle as you look up at him.

“Prettier than a painting, honey,” he sighs, rounding the counter to the coffee maker. Carefully opening the cabinet above, he grabs his favorite mug, coincidentally the one you and Sarah had picked out for him for Christmas. If dad can’t fix it, no one can, is printed on both sides of it with a little toolbox. She was giggly the entire time he was unwrapping it, a precious sound that replays in your mind each time you see it. 

Joel grabs the coffee pot with one hand while scrubbing his other over his beard, unkempt and due for a trimming soon.

“So…I was thinkin’ about Valentine’s Day,” he starts, completely filling up his cup with the steaming brew. “Would ya wanna go out or have a night in?”

“Hold on, cowboy. I don’t recall being asked to be your valentine, so as far as I know I’m not doing anything,” you shrug.

His brow cocks up at your comment mid-sip. You know your relationship advanced fairly quickly, seeing as the upcoming Valentine’s Day is the first you two are celebrating together. More than half of your belongings have found a cozy new home at Joel’s place and your own bed hasn’t been slept on in over a week. Your anniversary isn’t until April, but the quick progression doesn’t mean you want to skip out on the little things. You don’t wanna get comfortable.

“Okay then,” he clears his throat, the tips of his ears and peaks of his cheeks flushing. “Will you be my Valentine?”

You give him a once over, empty handed sans his coffee.

“Is this how you wanna ask me?”

“Um…’spose not,” he stutters, visibly surprised with your assertiveness. “Hold onto that thought, baby. I’m gon’ ask ya properly.”

Joel starts to put his mug in the microwave and leave the kitchen. Your soft voice startles him as you call his name.

“Woah, woah. I don’t want you to go right this second,” you chuckle. “You look too good for anyone else to see this morning anyways.”

A smirk creeps onto his lips, matching yours. Your lips meld together as you drag him back to his bedroom until Sarah awakes.

Joel makes his way out of the house later in the afternoon, a few stops in mind for his valentine’s proposal.

He feels like a giant oaf wandering the aisles of endless amounts of candies and plushies. A few eyes wander towards him as he stares blankly at the assorted chocolates. Christ, just pick something and get outta here, he thinks to himself while scratching his freshly trimmed scruff.

“Anything I can help you with?” A voice startles him. He looks up at the shop employee with a small smile.

“Mind givin’ a second opinion?” He chuckles, watching her come a bit closer. “Which one ‘a these would you wanna get from your partner?”

She scans the shelf for a moment, settling on a heart shaped box. For safe measure, she grabs the miniature version as well.

“You can’t really go wrong with chocolate. I’d want the bigger one but it can be pricey so they have the smaller one too,” she smiles as she hands him the two options. The gears start turning in his head as a new idea comes up.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he smiles politely, tucking them both in his basket. “I ‘ppreciate the help.”

The clerk nods and returns to her assigned position, leaving Joel to explore some more. He ends up buying double what he had anticipated, but for good reason.

He finds himself at a local Trader Joe’s. The bouquets that the previous shop had pre-made were alright, but Joel knows that you deserve far better than those. He picks up bundles of baby’s breath and greenery after choosing the perfect main flower, classic red roses. He grabs a few more groceries you had mentioned were running low before checking out. He’s feeling pretty proud of himself, how hard can assembling a bouquet be?

Turns out Joel is a little in over his head with the flowers. He’s stuck himself with thorns, which he assumed were already removed, more times than he can count. He wishes his momma was next to him, giving him better directions than the internet can provide. You’re the only person he’s brought back home that his mother truly approved of, which meant the whole world to him. So therefore, he simply cannot mess this up. 

He settles his bloodied fingers under the running tap as he cuts the stems off of the plants to an even height. This part is second nature to him, cutting things evenly is his livelihood after all. He cuts a few of them down to half of the size, separating them from the rest.

The video he’s pulled up instructs him to open up the roses next, something he would’ve never thought to do himself. He turns each individual bud upside down over the sink, twisting the stems between his palms until the flowers look alive. Assembly of the buds seems easy enough, just a pattern. 

Rose, greenery, filler, turn, repeat.

Once he’s satisfied with his work, he ties the ends of both bouquets he’s created with rubber bands before wrapping them in brown paper. He borrows some pink ribbon from Sarah’s crafting supplies for the final touch on each.

Joel’s phone buzzes with two notifications at once.

‘Your delivery driver will arrive shortly with your order!’

‘Hey, baby. Sarah and I are heading home shortly. I don’t feel like cooking tonight so I can pick something up on the way.’

He makes his way to the front door, flipping on the porch light before responding to you.

‘No need, sweetheart. I have dinner covered. See you soon.’

Joel completes the message with a heart emoticon before sending. He gathers all of the stem and leaves from the sink and throws away the scraps before wiping down the dampened counter. The gifts are assembled on the coffee table, a clear divide between what he got for you and Sarah.

He retrieves the takeout from the driver, giving him a cash tip before taking the food to the kitchen. Joel completes any final touches he may have missed until he hears your car doors closing in the driveway.

“My sweet princess,” he grins the moment his little girl steps into the house, leaving you trailing behind with the bags in your hands.

“Daddy!” Sarah calls out, running into Joel’s arms as he meets you both at the door. Kisses are littered across her plump cheeks, her squeals filling the quiet space. He reopens the storm door for you with one hand as Sarah occupies the other, hanging on his neck.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you, gently grasping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before planting a firm kiss to your lips. His thumb caresses your skin as he pulls away. Sarah wiggles out of his grasp to inspect the wafting takeout scent from the kitchen. She doesn’t even make it halfway before she lets out a dramatic gasp.

“Teddy bear!” She yells, beelining to the setup in the living room.

“What did you do, Joel Miller?” You ask, suspicion lacing your tone. He chuckles at your ambiguity, giving your ass a small love tap.

“Why don’t’cha see for yourself, hm?” He smirks, collecting the plastic and paper bags from your grasp. You join Sarah and admire your presents. His heart doubles in size watching his two favorite people look so incredibly elated. 

Joel sets everything down on the couch to join you two.

“I got flowers too! Daddy got us flowers,” Sarah grins, holding up her miniature bouquet matching yours. You find your way to him, snuggling up to his side in a hug.

“I do good? Will ya be my valentine?” He questions timidly, assuming he did at least decently by the bright smiles beaming on yours and Sarah’s faces.

“Yes, yes of course I will. It’s perfect, baby, thank you,” you whisper as your arms wrap around the back of his neck. “I’ll show you just how perfect you did after we put her to bed, hm?”

You swear his cheeks are the hue of the roses he gifted you. For once, he fully believes he hasn’t messed everything up this time. He sweeps you off of your feet with a spin, peppering your face with kisses.

“I love you both so much.”

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed xx

[sullyfortress]

Oel ngati kameie Mama Sully :3, good to see you again :3

I had a crazy avatar idea...(Mostly about the Na'vis)

Here we go again....

What if there were Na'vis (Avatars), hybrids with Big Cats? (Like tigers, lions, jaguars, leopards, snow leopards, etc.)

What if there were avatars (Na'vis) with DNA from sea creatures? Like the Tulkuns, or any sea creature from Pandora or Earth?(They would have, let's say, attributes of each animal, for example, if it was a swordfish, it would swim faster in the water, etc.)

Is there a creature that resembles the leviathan to the Na'vis? :0

This idea is a bit crazy (I admit), but what if there were androids Na'vis, who use them to collect data and information about the Na'vis tribes, and they return to the humans, so that they can attack the Na'vis?

Could it be that there are Na'vis (from the seas), but from the deep seas of Pandora? (Like the Mariana Trench), and would they have additional characteristics?

It's a bit of a crazy idea of mine, but what if, for example, they used big cat heads, instead of Na'vis heads (avatars), and had the DNA mixed with the big cats(Technically, a Na'vi is like a feline, only humanoid, but ok). About the connection, the Na'vis(Avatars)/Big Cat hybrids, their connection would be through the tail itself, but in the head (In the middle, from the back of the head), Until the The shoulders, there is the queue, where you can connect there too, with the creature and with anything else (related to Pandora, the hybrid queue is the same size as the normal Na'vis queues).

About the Na'vis/Big Cats Hybrids, They would have the "powers" of the big cat that they have their DNA mixed with, for example, if it is a black jaguar, it could have darker skin, to camouflage itself well, and help when hunting, all Avatar/Big Cat hybrids have night vision (because all big cats have it), and they have those Paw pads (on the palm and fingers), and all have retractable claws, Besides, I also thought about them having fur, They also, let's say, have improved attributes than many Conventional avatars (all their attributes are improved), for example, they can run at the speed that their big cat DNA has...

That's all I've been thinking, in fact I mentioned you in one of my posts, because I loved seeing your fanarts of the ash tribe, for me that's Canon, you have fantastic art! 😍🫶🏽. Feel hugged too, because you deserve this hug, for helping me that day, that's it, take care of yourself and a fantastic hug mama Sully! Remember: Oel ngati kameie 🫂

I am beyond behind in my inbox asks so I am slowly picking through them and I saw this and GASPED because I love the idea of merging animals into weird Na'vi hybrids. I mean Na'vi in general are inspired heavily by cats - fact - so yes I have already heavily been pulling from cats in designing them and figuring out features. Cool ideas here. Androids are already in James Cameron's toolbox so I 100% can see android/Na'vi's being a thing when human drivers become unreliable. Like imagine how much of a mind fuck that would be for Na'vi? Like Avatar's alone was a perversion of their species, but then if Ai/robotic looking Na'vi were made that could possibly mimic language perfectly and be essentially indestructible and numb to Na'vi(Because lets be real any Avatar with half a soul switches teams eventually) they would be beyond confused.

'Like the sky people who made fake bodies for themselves of our people, now have made fake our people people who only obey them and are not actually puppet sky people but some sort of monstrosity.'

like however you translate that into Na'vi.