#the first script didn't work

[sinsofsinister]

reluctantly speedrunning how to understand how AutoIt scripts work bc i absolutely refuse to have to validate / verify all 800 of my steam games one by one

[batcavescolony]

just saw someone say Rick Riordan making a TV show is just as bad as anything JKR has done. BFFR you're comparing Rick Riordan trying to make his world more inclusive, changing some parts because of money/time constraints, or just making changes cus he thinks they're needed, to JKR being a terrible person!

[kineticallyanywhere]

Time & Space pages 1-2 ( This is the start || ao3 (not yet!) || next ) Starts less than 24 hours after the death of Willy Stampler. With the job done, there's finally time to sort some things out. They just need the right amount of space.

[dahliapetals]

[marshmallowgoop]

About Lip Flap...

So, Ending 72 of Detective Conan got me thinking about lip flap:

What do I mean by that? Well, in some circles of the AMV-making world, it's maybe viewed as a "sin" to leave lip flaps unedited when there are no audible words. You either cut out the movements entirely, or you sync up the movements to match the lyrics of the song. Lip flap is distracting and immersion breaking.

Yet... this Detective Conan ending—mixing anime and music just like an AMV!—has lots of lip flap. Characters are talking and living and spouting out conversations, and there's no effort at all to hide or remove that. In fact, this sequence was deliberately animated that way.

And it's far from the only Detective Conan example in this vein. Which brings me to my next thought: early episodes of Detective Conan include instances of montages or characters otherwise moving their mouths without sound, but the FUNimation English dub seemingly found this so uncomfortable that words were added in:

Sometimes, I really love this choice! Conan's voice fading into Shinichi's in Episode 39 is one of my all-time favorite moments in the dub. Similarly, Conan's added little "but"s in Episode 32 are adorable.

But I feel like the montage in Episode 37 is weakened by the added dialogue because we didn't need any words to understand the story, and while Episode 42 might be argued to be more compelling and "show don't tell" without Conan's narration, we do miss a fair amount of information from that narration.

Overall, though, I think the changes indicate a cultural difference. Lip flap without audible words is fine for Japanese audiences, but overseas, it's seen as awkward and jarring.

So, is it a "sin" to include unedited lip flap in your AMVs? Well, it probably depends on who you ask!

But personally, my mindset has changed to not at all. I think there are moments where the indication of words can be quite powerful, just like in Detective Conan Ending 72 or the montage in Episode 37. While I mostly try to remove or sync lip flap in my own AMVs, there are also definitely times where I leave it. What's wrong with showing that there was a conversation?

That said... I gotta come clean. One of my first reactions to Ending 72 was to almost cringe at all the lip flap! But then I thought about it some more. While I'm rather inexperienced with making MMVs (Manga Music Videos), ever since I started, I've been a fan of leaving the speech bubbles unedited, text and all—despite the fact that this, similarly, seems to be somewhat of a "sin." I liked providing context, I liked that there were creative things you could do with the dialogue... and hey, is that really so different from leaving in some lip flap from time to time?

In the end, AMV editing is very subjective. Everyone has their own preferences and styles that speak to them, and that's part of what makes the art form so beautiful to me. But Ending 72 made me step back and reconsider some of the "rules" that I'd drilled into my head. Maybe what I've become so used to seeing as a "flaw" can actually be quite powerful in its own right!

[vagueeyes]

From the BBC Sounds pod INSIDE INSIDE NO. 9, S6E5 "How Do You Plead?" ❧ Director Guillem Morales:

For instance, in "How Do You Plead?", one of the images that came to my mind was a photograph by Jeff Wall–it's called "The Ventriloquist"–and you see the ventriloquist is in a party–a birthday party–and you see all the balloons floating against the ceiling. [...] It was a kind of, the perfect image to tell the audience when Urban reaches Webster's flat, that there was a birthday party there and probably there were guests holding those balloons. And now those guests, they are gone. They have left.

[thevioletcaptain]

@ anon there's a reason i've been trusted with information in the past and it's the same reason i cannot directly answer your messages -- but the scene being described did not exist

[goldentigerfestival]

Forgot to post this earlier but I did in fact comb the entire Vesperia script to determine how many times he uses ま/まあ throughout the game, along with a few other phrases he uses repeatedly. This counts all of main story, every single sidequest, and every single skit in the game.

Final counts were:

ま/まあ: 280

Ma/Maa; translates to "well". He uses this at the beginning of a sentence usually, but it's sometimes in the middle. "Ma" is usually more quick and snappy. "Maa" is more thoughtful and/or prolonged. Obviously it can vary based on context, but that's the general breakdown.

んじゃ and any variants: 133

Nja, along with variants such as "ja", "soreja", etc. Variants are counted when they're all used to express "let's get going", when they're about to head off ("ja" could be used in a sentence such as "ja/but then, why is xyz like this", etc). They encompass translations such as "well then" (let's get going implied. includes "so then", "then" "alright then", and so on), "we should be off", "let's get going", "let's go", etc. (not to be confused with 行こう(ikou), 行くぜ, (ikuze), and other similar versions of this phrase. That can also mean "let's go", but any instances of Yuri using that particular phrase was not counted because it wasn't a variant of, specifically, んじゃ, which is also his most common "let's go" ja variant).

おい / おいおい: 66

Oi/Oi oi; translates to "hey"/"hey, hey", though "oi" is more or less an accepted word in English nowadays.

おっと: 12

Otto (not to be confused with "oto", referring to sound); an expression of surprise that can translate roughly to "whoa there" (which is the most common translation I do see for it and what I'd use in most cases too, context of course varying). The reason I included this one despite it being so seemingly low in number is because it's not a particularly common expression, much less one used multiple times by a single character? It's so rare from anyone else, which is just a regular thing relative to Yuri and his dialogue/speech (i.e. most characters sparingly use phrases repeatedly, as compared to Yuri... as you can see lol. Other characters use these words/phrases, but nowhere near as regularly, if regularly at all).

Realized along the way I should've included やれやれ (yare yare, "good grief", "oh dear", "oh boy" etc), but by the time I realized I should have in case it was an interesting count, I was too far into the script to be able to handle going all the way back through it LOL.

No. No, I am not joking that Yuri used ま/まあ 280 times throughout the course of the game. That is to say, it could be more if I missed any, but on the assumption I didn't, that's where it stands.

Why do I love this so much? Because it's a very specific character quirk of a character I adore. I'm very fond of his repetition. Thank you.

[watery-melon-baller]

lads a script is being written!!!

[dwindlebunnies]

Tim Burton kicked a hole in a wall in anger and the crew made fun of him for it for the rest of production.

Im so sorry but this is the funniest fucking thing

[nexus-nebulae]

well. we were going to try out some new New Member Protocols with this new guy but. whoops! speedran it anyways,

[sairaverse]

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲-𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝟏 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

ah yes, the final stage of law of assumption. manifesting small things, challenges, until you're sick of everything and just want everything you've dreamed of. well- that's me. I manifested my dream life 1 year ago today, which is exactly why I'm making this post! its like my anniversary.

How I did it: I understood that the law of assumption literally is instant and the 3d does not matter. right when you claim it- its yours. So I shut up and decided I'm living my dream life. My aff was "I'm living my dream life, I'm just letting it play out." it was so good for me to perceive it this way because not only am I focused on the end, it helps me not try and try to convince myself in the 3d- rather knowing its done and everything is falling into place. I persisted with that aff, and slowly but surely…things came into place. its like thing and thing again happened, I kept getting crumbs from the 3d- (people I scripted in my dream life, random money, random appearance changes, changes in my family) I kept going until I finally had everything. in short I knew the 3d would change and I narrated how it'll end.

the old story: I grew up in Virginia and was born into a family with 5 kids. We lived in America for 10 years before my father decided he wanted to move to turkey-istanbul. that drained all of our money and we lived in a small apartment with 4 bedrooms. (remember, there's 7 of us) so we lived in turkey for 2 years. my dad kept getting and losing jobs, until he decided we should move to dubai. that made our lives even worse, dubai is SUCH an expensive country. we then lived in a TWO bedroom apartment with all 7 of us. my brother had to sleep in a fucking closet and I shared a room with my 23 year old sister. oh and- my dad quit his job and tried to make us work for his business. obviously it wasn't a stable income so we had ended up moving back to America because he landed a government job. We lived in my grandmas house and my dad ended up getting fired from his job 2 weeks after landing it 💀💀 so we were in America, in our grandmas house with 3 bedrooms ( my siblings had to sleep in the living room). My life fucking sucked. I hated and resented my dad, and my sister felt the same way. She was a severely mentally ill person and it jacked her up even more all the times our father had made us go broke and live in a different country. she was 23 and had enough, she had a whole life ahead of her, didn't get to go to college because we kept moving. So she left- she got herself a job and left our grandmas house at like 2 am without saying a word. Our parents found out and my dad was so furious and hurt, there's a lot of context I wont go over. what she did was a little wrong according to our family, but honestly? I don't blame her. I was sick of it by then- I knew about manifesting way back when we first moved to dubai. So I was sick of it. I wrote a whole 200+ page script, writing every single revised detail of my life. from a bunch of snacks in the fridge to my dad fucking closing his mouth when he eats, ALL OF IT. I was sick and tired of having a dirty and poor father who ruined my life and made me fix it. So I did what I said I did back in the first paragraph, and I manifested everything on the script.

New story (my life now): I live in Dubai again, I have a completely different dad (yes, I just deleted my old story dad basically), My parents are multi-millionaires who own very successful businesses. (the very ones my dad forced me to work for when I was only 13) I live in a super big house with my dream bedroom, I go to a rich private school and I have so many friends. I changed my eye color, bone structure, and height. I live like a spoiled rich daughter from a 2000s romcom. I attended the Super Bowl this year and was able to do so many things. My mom is the wife she had deserved to be, (she was basically the man of the house. My dad was like a toddler, he would ruin things and scream at us so my mom had ended up stepping up because of it) and I have everything I could have asked for and more. After revising my dream life the old story feels like a bad dream. Even when I was typing it, it just felt like I was telling you guys a weird story and not my actual life that I had to experience for 15 years. Anyway, 6/9/2024 was the best day of my life. It was the day I finally got to be a kid, not stress over finances as a kid, and witness everything I had never imagined would've came true.

You can do it. You can manifest everything. and it is much simpler than you think

creds to @itsrlymine @scentedpeachlandcreator and @hrrtshape for helping me see light to achieve this dream. I love you all 💗💗

(edit: I FUCKING CALLED DUBAI A COUNTRY. I meant the uae is an expensive country and the area of UAE was dubai)

++ I created this blog because so many of you were going through even worse situations as me. I couldn't bear knowing it was so easy to get yourself out of struggle and just say nothing. I literally made my blog the same weekend I manifested my dream life, and now there's 600 of you taking my advice 🩷

[batboyblog]

Copy Right and Public Domain in 2024

Happy 2024 all! its also Public Domain Day! a magical holiday here in America where things enter the public domain. Works published in the year 1928 (or 95 years ago!) have entered the public domain, which means they belong to us, all of us, the public!

Mickey's Back!

Yes! I'm sure you've heard, but Mickey Mouse (and Minnie Mouse too) is entering the Public Domain today. This has been news for a few years and indeed Disney's lobbying in the late 1990s is why our copy right term is SO long. So what exactly is now public domain?

Most people know about Mickey's first appearance Steamboat Willie, but a second short film, Plane Crazy was also released in 1928 so will also be public domain. So what's public? well these two films first of all, you're allowed to play them, upload them to YouTube or whatever without paying Disney. In theory you'll be allowed to cut and sample them, have them playing in the background of your movie etc. Likewise in theory the image of Mickey and Minnie as they appear (thats important) in these films will be free to use as well as Mickey's character as he appears in these works will be free to use. Now Mickey's later and more famous appearance

will still be protected. Famously the Conan Doyle Estate claimed that Sherlock Holmes couldn't be nice, smile, or not hate women in works because they still held the copyright on the short stories where he first did those things even though 90% of Sherlock Holmes stories were public domain. It's very likely Disney will assert similar claims over Mickey, claiming much of his personality first appeared in works still copyrighted.

Finally there's copyright vs trademark. Copyright is total ownership of a piece of media and all the ideas that appear in it, copyright has a limited set term and expires. Trademark is more limited and only applies to things used to market and sell a product. You can have a Coke branded vending machine in your movie if you want, but it couldn't appear anywhere in the trailer for your movie as thats you marketing your movie.

Where trademark ends and copyright begins and how trademarked something in the public domain is allowed to be are all unsettled areas of law and clearly Disney in the last few years as been aggressively pushing its trademark not just to Mickey in general but Steamboat Willie Mickey in particular

Ultimately the legal rights and wrongs of this might not matter so much since few people have the money and legal resources of the Walt Disney corporation so they might manage to maintain a de facto copyright on Mickey through legal intimidation, but maybe not?

And Tigger Too!

All the talk about Mickey Mouse and Steamboat Willie has sadly overshadowed other MAJOR things entering the public domain today. Most people are aware Winnie the Pooh entered the public domain in 2022, but they might not realize his beloved friend Tigger didn't. Thats because Tigger didn't appear till A. A. Milne's second (and last) book of Pooh short stories, The House at Pooh Corner in 1928.

Much like Mickey Mouse only what appears in The House at Pooh Corner is public domain so the orange bouncy boy from the 1960s Disney cartoon is still on lock down. But the A. A. Milne original as illustrated by E. H. Shepard is free for you to use in fiction or art. His friend Winnie the Pooh has made a number of appearances since being freed, most notably in a horror movie, but also a Mint Mobile commercial so maybe Tigger too will have a lot of luck in the public domain.

Other works:

Peter Pan; or the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up

Peter Pan is a strange case, even though the play was first mounted in 1904, and the novelization (Peter and Wendy) was published in 1911, The script for the play was not published till 1928 (confusing!) meaning while the novel as been public domain for years the play (which came first) hasn't been, but now it is and people are welcome to mount productions of it.

Millions of Cats

The oldest picture book still in print, did you own a copy growing up? (I did)

Lady Chatterley's Lover

The iconic porn novel that was at the center of a number of groundbreaking obscenity cases in the 1960s and helped establish your right to free speech.

All Quiet on the Western Front and The Threepenny Opera in their original German (but you can translate them if you want), The Mystery of the Blue Train by Agatha Christie, and Orlando by Virginia Woolf will also be joining us in the public domain along with any and all plays, novels, and books published in 1928

for Films we have The Man Who Laughs who's iconic image inspired the Joker

Charlie Chaplin's The Circus, Buster Keaton's The Cameraman, Should Married Men Go Home? the first Laurel and Hardy movie, Lights of New York the first "all talking" movie, The Passion of Joan of Arc, The Wind, as well as The Last Command and Street Angel the first films to win Oscars for Best Actor and Best Actress respectively will all be entering public domain

For Musical Compositions (more on that in a moment) we've got

Mack the Knife by Bertolt Brecht, Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love) by Cole Porter, Sonny Boy by George Gard DeSylva, Lew Brown & Ray Henderson, Empty Bed Blues by J. C. Johnson, and Makin’ Whoopee! by Gus Khan are some of the notables but any piece of music published in 1928 is covered

Any art work published in 1928, which might include works by Frida Kahlo, Georgia O'Keeffe, Alexej von Jawlensky, Edward Hopper, and André Kertész will enter the public domain, we are sure those that M. C. Escher's Tower of Babel will be in the public domain

Swan Song, Public Domain and recorded music

While most things are covered by the Copyright Act of 1976 as amended by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, none of the copyright acts covered recordings you see when American copyright law was first written recordings did not exist and so through its many amendings no one fixed this problem, movies were treated like plays and artwork, but recorded sound wasn't covered by any federal law. So all sound recordings from before 1972 were governed by a confusing mess of state level laws making it basically impossible to say what was public and what was under copyright. In 2017 Congress managed to do something right and passed the Music Modernization Act. Under the act all recordings from 1922 and before would enter the public domain in 2022. After taking a break for 2023, all sound recordings made in 1923 have entered the public domain today on January 1st 2024, these include.

Charleston by James P. Johnson

Yes! We Have No Bananas (recorded by a lot artists that year)

Who’s Sorry Now by Lewis James

Down Hearted Blues by Bessie Smith

Lawdy, Lawdy Blues by Ida Cox

Southern Blues and Moonshine Blues by Ma Rainey

That American Boy of Mine and Parade of the Wooden Soldiers by Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra

Dipper Mouth Blues and Froggie More by King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band, featuring Louis Armstrong

Bambalina by Ray Miller Orchestra

Swingin’ Down the Lane by Isham Jones Orchestra

Enjoy your public domain works!

[bloomiize]

i'll be watching

pairing → jay x yn

warnings → smut, THERES A PLOT KINDA, stalking behaviour, he is OBSESSED, hes still a """"gentleman""", dom jay, fem reader, dubcon, reader gets drunk, coercion

wc: ~3.5k

synopsis → One smile was all it took. The moment your eyes glanced at him, he knew. Jay had already found your full name, your age, where you worked, and exactly where you lived. You just didn’t know you loved him yet and that's okay. He was going to make sure you felt it, too.

You were always quiet, minding your own business and in your own world. It was peaceful, unbothered and drama-free. Juggling a full course load and working at the cafe, you didn't have the time to care about all the guys who tried to get your attention. A compliment here and there, maybe a little note slip on the counter with a phone number on it.

"I have work."

"This assignment is due tomorrow."

"My schedule is packed for this weekend."

You say over and over again. Some would nod their heads understandingly and leave. Others got upset, accusing you of being a tease, wasting their time. But it was always the truth. You just didn’t care to date. It wasn’t a priority. Never was.

The cafe became a soft space for you, and it was a routine you enjoyed. Coffee, latte, baked goods and the warm hum of happy customers filled your days when you weren't busy daydreaming or studying.

"Hi! What can I get you?" You asked, voice light and shining with infinite possibilities. The greeting rolling off your tongue like a script. You didn’t glance up this time, opting to refill the cupcake stand that was being sold at a pace faster than you could keep up with.

"Coffee. Black." The voice was low. Rushed, like he didn’t want to be here longer than necessary.

You finally looked up, and what a sight it was.

Neat, dark hair. Sharp features that didn't look real. His hands fiddling with— what looks to be— an expensive watch. He didn’t look like the usual customers who came in between classes or after lectures. He looked out of place. Cold, quiet and probably had way too much money.

Then he looked up, staring right at you.

You gave him a warm smile, polite and practiced— the same one you offered to every customer. But his gaze didn’t soften. It stayed locked on yours, curious, unwavering, like he could see past the surface. Like he was trying to figure something out about you that even you didn’t know yet.

When you called out his order, he grabbed it from the counter and left with a quick "Thank you" slipping from his lips. What an interesting guy, wasn't he? And you continued your shift, forgetting all about the strange man. But he never forgot about you.

Jay hated cafes.

Overpriced coffee. Pretentious menus. The same recycled “minimalist” aesthetic with fake plants and Instagrammable drinks that tasted like burnt water and regret. He took his coffee seriously—dark, rich, and brewed with precision. Not watered down through shit using a machine that's probably already rusting.

But today was different.

His morning meeting had been moved earlier without notice, and he didn’t have time to grind the beans himself, didn’t get to hear the satisfying sound of it being poured, didn’t get to take that first quiet sip in the dark comfort of his kitchen. Instead, he was running late. Annoyed. And in desperate need of caffeine.

What a waste, he thought bitterly, eyes scanning the ugly brown exterior of a small cafe on the corner. The obnoxious chalkboard screamed “OPEN!” and jutted out onto the sidewalk like it was begging for attention. Tacky.

Still, he stepped inside, the little chime above the door making his eye twitch. The place was warm, smelled faintly of cinnamon and espresso. Surprisingly, he didn't find bright lights or fake plants or Instagrammable murals. He joined the short line, checking his watch every few seconds.

This better be quick.

He was already thinking about how he’d never let Heeseung schedule his meetings again when something shifted.

A voice.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

You.

The barista behind the counter.

Eyes that shimmered with something— curiosity? Joy? Maybe it was just the reflection of the morning sun, but it caught him off guard. You had a warm smile, a soft voice that was so effortlessly kind it almost irritated him. No fake chipper tone. No forced customer service greeting. You looked real.

His mouth moved before he could think. “Coffee. Black.”

And for the first time that morning, he thought about something other than killing Heeseung.

He kept visiting after that. The cup you made him didn't taste disgusting, he was pleasantly surprised. But it wasn’t the coffee that brought him back the next day. Or the day after that. At first, he sat by the window, pretending to scroll through emails or read a news article. Something to excuse the fact that he hadn’t taken a single sip of the drink cooling beside him.

He was watching you.

The way you tied your apron without thinking, the way you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear when you were focused on something. The soft laugh you gave when your coworker said something stupid. It annoyed him how much of your attention everyone else got.

So he listened.

He learned that your favourite pastry was the chocolate croissant, that you hated oat milk, and that you were taking some brutal university class you always complained about on Mondays. He would do all your work for you if it meant you never had to lift a finger. Anything for you to smile.

He learned you only worked mornings on weekdays and full days on weekends. He picked up the rhythm of your schedule with unsettling ease, pretending as if it were his own. Jay started telling his assistant he'd be working remotely more often—from home, he said. But home wasn’t his apartment anymore. It was the window seat at the café.

Your café.

It was a calm morning, he was still watching— still listening. As he sat at his usual corner table pretending to answer emails, he heard your name.

"Y/N, can you grab another box of lids from the back?"

Y/N. It echoed in his head like a siren's curse.

His fingers twitched around his cup. How could your coworker say something so sacred without a care in the world? It annoyed him. But that was all he needed; Jay had a name now. A real one. The moment he heard it, something settled deep in his chest. Like he unlocked a new level. As if knowing it gave him some invisible thread that tied you to him—whether you realized it or not. You let him know your name.

You hadn’t looked at him since that first day. You didn’t remember him. He was just another customer, a regular who always ordered a black coffee. You smiled politely like you did to everyone else. That irked him more than he expected. How could you show that to everyone? It was only supposed to be for him.

But it was okay. He was patient. He'd wait for you forever.

You didn’t know you were his yet. But you would eventually, he’d make sure of it.

You were already running late to class—your shift had dragged longer than expected, and your manager needed help with the register changeover. You said yes, of course. You always did.

Then the kid happened.

Sugar-high, giggling, and sticky-handed, he barreled straight into you as you stepped out from behind the counter. Your drink slipped from your fingers, crashing against your front, staining your white t-shirt in a swirl of espresso and foam. You laughed it off with his mom as she scolded him for being a handful, apologizing profusely while dabbing at your clothes with napkins.

Back in the kitchen, you tried scrubbing it out with soap and water, but the mess clung to the fabric like it belonged there. You were soaked. And the coffee smell followed you like a curse. You had ten minutes to make it to your lecture, barely enough time to breathe, let alone run home and change.

You stepped out of the café with your head down, already mentally preparing your apology for walking into class late and causing a scene. Suddenly, you hit something solid. No, not something. Someone.

You stumbled, arms flailing slightly as the impact caught you off guard, but before you could trip, two hands grabbed your arms. Steady. Warm. Strong.

A chest. Broad. A body, hard with muscle beneath his shirt. It was hard not to stare for a bit.

“Careful,” a low voice murmured above you.

You looked up. One of the regulars at the cafe— Jack? Jake? Jay? His name was something along those lines. His eyes flicked down to your soaked top, his brows pinched together, like he was in pain. How odd.

You scrambled for words. "I'm so sorry!" you blurted, looking up and meeting his gaze with wide, apologetic eyes. That nearly killed him.

"Your next cup is on me, but I really have to go! Point me out next time at the counter," You say, embarrassment taking over your face. You back up, getting ready to sprint across campus.

He almost let you go. Almost.

“Do you… need a sweater?” he called after you, his voice lower, more careful. “For the stain. On your shirt.”

Suddenly, you're standing in front of him and he's taking off his sweater. A neat navy blue quarter zip, as he lifted it over his head, you got a glimpse of his midriff. Tone, perfectly sculpted abs. You ripped your gaze away, masking the awkward silence with a cough. He handed it to you with care and told you to keep it.

"I'll give it back next time i see you I swear!" You said running off waving at him with a smiling. There it was, that smile. Only for him.

He replayed the moment multiple times in his head. How you smelled of vanilla and dark roast. How you felt so warm and soft, his mind often wondered if you would feel the same under him. Jay palmed his dick night after night. How your shirt clung so tightly to your chest. He could see everything. And the way you smiled at him had him unravelling on his sheets. Moving up and down, breathlessly saying your name like a chant.

Life was a blur— assignments, lectures, shifts— and the sweater ended up in your closet. You wore it to work the next week, not thinking twice. At the cafe, Jay stood in line ahead of you. He turned, eyes landing on the sweater, a slow smile spreading. “So, you’re still wearing it.”

You spew out apologies and explanations but he let out a chuckle. Low. Deep. It vibrated in you.

“Keep it,” he laughed. “Looks like it’s yours now.” His gaze lingered. “Let me take you out, I'm sure you're tired of coffee by now.” His tone was light, but his eyes were focused on you. He was handsome, kind, and you basically stole his sweater, this was the least you could do to make up for it.

“Sure,” you smiled and wrote your number on his cup with a small smiley face beside it.

That date turned into hours of talking. Jay was funny, attentive, remembering tiny details like your love for plants and how you refused to allow any fake ones in the cafe, fighting the manager if you had to. You didn’t know he’d studied you online, memorizing your posts, your likes, the plushy bear you’d mentioned wanting. He knew you more than you knew yourself.

The second date was perfect: a park walk, dinner at a cozy bistro. The third was a movie night at your place, laughing together with his arm around you. He never crossed a line unless you wanted him to, always checking if you're okay with whatever he's doing, whether it be a hug or a light kiss on your lips. Jay was a nice guy; he would never do anything weird, maybe that's why you were so comfortable with him. He liked everything you liked. He listened to you rant about your professors and classmates. It was like he was made for you.

By the fourth, you knew you liked him. Jay was perfect—he opened doors, never let you pay, always drove you home and walked you back to your door. When he handed you the plush bear you’d mentioned offhandedly weeks ago, your eyes lit up.

“You remembered,” you beamed, pulling it into your arms.

“Of course I did,” he said, watching you like you hung the stars.

You didn’t notice the glint in the bear’s right eye, a tiny lens tucked behind the button. He wanted to keep seeing you smile. Even when you thought you were alone.

At night, when you changed, he was there, on his screen, heart racing. Jay sat in his darkened apartment, the laptop screen casting a sickly glow across his face. The plushy’s camera feed showed you in your room, taking off your shirt after a long day. His breath caught, uneven, as you unhooked your bra, your breasts spilling free, soft and perfect under the lamp’s dim light. He licked his lips, imagining his tongue swirling over your nipples, sucking hard until they pebbled, leaving wet trails and purple marks across your chest. He wanted to bite, to claim every inch of you.

“God, Y/N,” he growled, voice thick with lust, leaning so close his nose nearly brushed the screen. If he stuck out his tongue he could taste it, he could taste you. His eyes devoured you—your delicate collarbone, the maddening curve of your waist, the way your hair draped over your shoulder like an invitation for him to hold your hair up. His hand was already in his pants, gripping himself, the ache unbearable, so needy. Your body was a fucking altar, and he was a starving worshipper.

He groaned as you bent to grab a tee, your breasts swaying slightly, the view sending a violent jolt through him. His strokes were frantic now, sloppy, his palm slick with precum. He pictured pinning you to the bed, spreading you open, licking every curve until you screamed his name. The thought of anyone else seeing you—your classmates, those café creeps—made his gut fill up with rage. “Mine, mine, mine,” he gasped, hips bucking as he came, hot and messy, splattering across his hand. He panted, eyes still locked on you slipping into bed, oblivious, his perfect obsession.

He wiped himself off, breath uneven, knowing you curl up with the plushy. His plushy. His eyes. He’d never let you go.

Jay invited you to his place for dinner, and you couldn’t say no. His apartment was stunning—sleek, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The table was set with candles, a spread of homemade pasta, and a bottle of red wine. “You cook?” you teased, impressed and honoured.

“Only for you, angel,” he said, pouring you a generous glass. His smile was warm, but his eyes burned with something darker, a need. He kept refilling your glass, his hand lingering on yours. “You deserve to take a break, Y/N. You work so hard.” He cooed.

The wine hit fast, warming your limbs, clouding your thoughts. Jay was charming, leaning close, his smile growing bigger. You giggled, head fuzzy, his voice smooth and low as he talked. By the third glass, the room tilted, your cheeks flushed, your body uncontrollable. He moved to the couch, patting the spot beside him. “Come here love.” “You’re so… nice, Jay,” you mumbled, head lolling slightly, cheeks flushed. By the fourth glass, the room spun, your body heavy, limbs loose. Guilt clawed at you—he’d done so much, the dinner, the plushy, the sweater. You owed him, didn’t you? 

You stumbled, and he pulled you into his lap. His scent wrapped around you, intoxicating. He looked at you like you were his everything, and it felt too good, too warm, even as a faint voice screamed to leave. His hand slid to your thigh, squeezing, inching under your skirt. “You’re so pretty like this,” he murmured, voice thick. “All soft and sweet, just for me.”

“Jay, I… I’m really drunk,” you slurred, trying to push his hand away, but your fingers were clumsy. Your head felt like clouds, the wine drowning out your senses. “Maybe I should… go home.”

“Shh, angel,” he cooed, fingers tightening, ignoring your weak protest. “You can’t leave me after all this, can you? You’re my special girl tonight.” His eyes locked on yours, intense, needy. “You trust me, don’t you? I’ve been so good to you.” 

Guilt twisted harder. He had been good—perfect, even. The sweater, the bear, the way he always showed up at the cafe with a smile. He was so kind and caring, always attentive to your needs. He never pushed any lines; you owed him this, right? Just this once. “Okay..” you whispered, voice small, embarrassed, your body betraying you as his touch sent shocks through you.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing you deeply, his tongue and yours mixing perfectly, tasting the wine off your lips. He pushed you back on the couch, hands roaming all over you, tugging off your clothes with a rapid pace. “So fucking cute,” he murmured, unhooking your bra, lips grazing your collarbone. He smiled, sliding your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them down. “Look at you,” he whispered, playing with your folds, finding you slick despite your confusion. “So wet for me, aren’t you? And you wanted to go home like this?” He circled your clit slowly, teasing, watching you squirm. “Yeah? You like that?”

“S’good,” you slurred, hips twitching, embarrassed but unable to stop the heat building in you. His praise felt like a drug—cute, perfect, his angel.

“Aw,” he teased, slipping two fingers inside, pumping gently, his thumb on your clit. “Do you think of me when you wear my sweater?” he asked, voice low, eyes glinting as if he didn’t already know the answer. He’s watched you do it countless times by now.

“Y-Yes,” you admitted, voice shaky, picturing the cozy navy quarter-zip and how many times you’ve touched yourself while wearing it. He groaned, fingers curling. “So dirty,” he whispered, voice thick with approval. “My dirty little angel, thinking of me like that.” He moved faster, but when you whimpered, close to the edge, he stopped, pulling his fingers out, licking them clean while staring at you. “Not yet. I want to play with you longer.”

You whined, needy, head too foggy to argue, the alcohol was making everything feel lighter. “Jay, please,” you begged, barely coherent.

“Patience,” he chuckled, spreading your thighs wider. He didn’t wait long, his need overtook him. He shoved his pants down, freeing his cock, thick and heavy, the size making your eyes widen even through the drunken haze. “Jay, wait,” you slurred, panic flickering. “It’s… too big.”

“It’ll fit angel, it’ll fit,” he soothed, voice dripping with false gentleness, his hand rubbing your stomach as he lined himself up. “I’ll make it fit.” He pushed in, slow but relentless, stretching you, the burn making you cry out. You were wet, dripping even, yet he was still too big. “Hurts,” you whimpered, hands pushing weakly at his chest.

“I know, love,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, his hand pressing your stomach, feeling the bulge where he filled you. “You’re taking me so well. My perfect fuckdoll.” He thrust slowly, savouring your whines, each whimper and gasp fueling him. “So cute like this, whimpering for me,” You were gone. Your head was dizzy and all you could do was moan his name out, gripping onto him like he could save you.

You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, your head lolling as the pain mixed with pleasure. “Too much,” you’re slurring, but your body arched into him, betraying you.

“You’re doing so good,” he said, thrusting deeper, still slow, watching the bulge in your stomach move. “My perfect girl, letting me have you like this. You owe me this, don’t you? After everything I’ve done for you.” His words sank into your drunken mind. You really did owe Jay everything. You nod barely understanding, just wanting to please him.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, picking up the pace slightly, his hand stroking your hair. “You feel so good, Y/N. Made for me.” He groaned, voice tightening. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You blinked, a flicker of clarity cutting through the fog. “Jay… condom?” you mumbled weakly, too drunk to care fully, the question more curiosity than concern.

“Shh, love, it’s okay,” he whispered, hand cupping your cheek, thrusting harder. “We’re gonna have such a good family. I’ll take care of you, always.” His hips snapped forward, and he came, hot and thick robes flooded inside you, groaning into your neck as he filled you, no hesitation. Like he planned this.

You whimpered, too fucked out and drunk to process, your body limp beneath him. He held you close, kissing your forehead, murmuring, “My perfect girl. You did so good.” You drifted off in his arms while he cleaned you up. What a gentleman.

a/n: jay being devious is my new favourite thing I fear... anyways I HOPE YOU ENJOYED! sorry for not posting for a bit I've been super busy so let me yap for a bit. i started my summer courses KILL ME and I just started my new job YAY! I have wayyy too many drafts rn LOL pls lmk what you think! comments and reblogs are appreciated I LOVE YOU GUYS! <3

join my taglist!

@femmefqtqle @seobinghard @maysshade @dark-moon-light02 @jjongsies @nikismyprincesses @iaaespa @heeseungsbm @shy9-29 @ddeonuswife @raven-unkind @juicygirl4life @jazminethecreator @a3r4-for3ver @himynameisraelynn @sinforsim @minniesverse @luvksnn @pqrkjyx @millis-diary @ihearteatingxo @junoraa @ceramini @bleeepbeary @vvenusoncasual @cherrynpink @aruumyne @dolllzy @juliethhh @rairaiblog @k-drizzle @lynbels @simj4k3 @jakeflvrz @withtanxp @lionzyon @heartz4rae @sunnysidesins

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi 👋, can I request a self aware Smilk & reader, where he’s the only one who knows of their existence, and the reader can sometimes take control of him which causes some confusion to other cookies.

(You can choose whether it’s a one-shot or headcanons)

Yess self awareness time

.......

After trying and trying again, you finally pulled Shadow Milk Cookie from the gacha, thrilled that he finally came home!

Now that you've understood all the hype surrounding him and how crazy powerful he can be after clearing his Beast Yeast episodes, you had all your star jellies, toppings, and a legendary beascuit saved just for him.

But ever since obtaining him, you've noticed some...oddities with him that made you assume it was part of his programming/AI.

When you see him walking around the kingdom or working at a station that's not the toy store, he's looking at you a lot.

Of course, some cookies may glance at you occasionally, with even fewer breaking the fourth wall (like Black Sapphire and Devil Cookie), but that's just what the devs added as a funny joke.

Shadow Milk...is different. He doesn't follow their script to a T.

The way he talks and waves at you, shows off during battles and making himself the last cookie standing in difficult arena fights, and doing his juggling trick when he knows you're looking at him.

Then he actually responded to you after you made a remark about where to put his statue...and at first you're startled, bc no way could that have been a coincidence...

In reality, he had an "awakening" of his own--in that his knowledge suddenly extended beyond CRK's borders.

Somehow, he can see and hear you, becoming 100% aware that he's in a video game.

But you assume his new antics are part of his programming...until one day the charade falls apart and he straight up tells you that he knows the truth. He even says your username, the device you're playing on, and the day you started CRK as proof in case you think he's lying.

You're stunned at first, but then you think it's actually pretty awesome....until he claims that he's the only one who knows and felt like it would've been better if he didn't.

Of course, the master of deceit would rather ignore the truth and live out a lie, like all the other cookies are....but he's stuck with this earthbread-shattering truth that's only his to bear.

In a way, being "trapped" in this game reminds him of the witches and the time he spent in the silver tree, believing he escaped one prison only to end up in another.

After you leave the game to tend to some real life matters, he tries sowing chaos in the kingdom by revealing this to other cookies, thinking they'd "wake up".

Yet none of them know wtf he's talking about. Not even the Beasts or Pure Vanilla, who thinks he's just trying to trick everybody again..although he admits that what Shadow Milk is saying sounds most outlandish.

Typically, he'd be able to conjure up some kind of "evidence" and manipulate wide masses into believing any word he says.

But you're untouchable, and he has no way of obtaining tangible proof of your existence to show the other cookies...and once he realizes this, he gets frustrated.

"Who do you think fulfills our wishes at the tree???? Who do you think indulges us with star jellies????? Keeps this kingdom from crumbling to pieces?!! We are ALL the puppets to an even bigger puppet master!"

Anyone who hears this yap from him just thinks 'is he alright? like genuinely?'

The next time you log in, Shadow Milk is gravely upset that he has to carry this burden and decides to take it out on you.

Suddenly there's lag spikes when his ability is on cooldown (so you can hardly use them in battle and lose your ranking in arena), he avoids you trying to pick him up in the kingdom (much to other cookies' confusion, as from their pov, he's fleeing something that's invisible)...and he even corrupted his own stats to make it seem like any promotions were gone and his level dropped back to 1.

You ask him why he's causing you all this trouble, and his next rant was more or less....a reasonable crashout.

"I was a god...or at least that's what I thought. But no. I've been lied to. A master of deceit...has been lied to again!! What cruel irony! This world...this life of mine....it's all been one big game from the start! And nobody knows but I!! HAHAHA!! Tell me, [username]..what's it like being the true god of this world? Do you enjoy toying with our lives? What makes you think you deserve my power?! Damn you....and damn this prison!! YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN THOSE WITCHES!!!"

Other cookies just see him screaming at nobody in particular, although his rage forms rifts in the ground, from which the other-realm creeps out to attack anyone close to him.

You end up closing the game out of fear, leaving it alone for the next several hours.

While initially scared to reopen it, you did understand why Shadow Milk lashed out like that--he thought he was in control, and couldn't comprehend the idea of it being somebody else.

You don't know why he, of all cookies, had to be cursed with this forbidden knowledge, but what could be done about it now?

Nothing.

So you returned to the game and found a plushie of him somewhere after looking around for a few minutes, and after clicking him, he turns back to normal and scowls.

"What? You've come back to toy with me more, stupid god? Or were you just worried that I did something to your precious kingdom?"

"No, and no." You say, explaining to him that while you'd never fully understand what he was feeling--and couldn't help him explain your existence to other cookies--you wanted him to see you as a friend, not a puppet master or a witch or some untouchable god like he accuses you of being.

To show him you're serious, you bought all of his decor and gave him his own little castle/spire-like area, where he can indulge in his hobbies or just retreat there whenever he wanted to.

For some time, Shadow Milk is silent as he inspects everything and for a moment...you thought he reverted back to his NPC programming...

Then he looks at you and grins a little. "Jeez, if only you put this much effort into the rest of the kingdom."

"Yeah, well...I'm working on it." You chuckled. "Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie think it's "dull" and doesn't compare to your spire, but-"

"I'll deal with them later. This...is acceptable."

It's fair to say...he's content.

He seems to finally accept his new reality, as he doesn't corrupt his stats or sabotage your gameplay anymore, allowing you to use him as your strongest magic cookie again.

Now if you start shifting your focus towards pulling Awakened Pure Vanilla, however, he might stir up some trouble to make the process take even longer

[webslinger-holland]

AAAA in love with your depictions of all the characters:3 could you write the thunderbolts* reacting to you calling them by their last name? tysm :3

Prompt: The Thunderbolts react to you calling them by their last name.

Warning: fluff, some angst, angry reader moments

Note: Threw in some Alexei just for good laughs. Hope you like it!

Yelena: The two of you were circling each other during another sparring session. You duck under her arm mid-swing and land a clean hit to her side. You circled back into stance, muscles coiled and ready again.

The air between you crackled with challenge—and maybe something a little more personal beneath the friendly fight.

“Come on, Belova. You’re slow today.”

Instantly, Yelena stands up straight and her entire fight stance goes back to normal. Her hands fall back down at her sides, her shoulders drop like she's no longer in the mood.

She narrowed her eyes at you instantly. “No. Absolutely not.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Belova? You trying to sound like Valentina?” she teased, clearly disgusted. “That’s gross.”

You laughed. “I didn't think you'd hate it so much."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "It's not the name. It's the way you said it. Felt a little degrading."

You grinned. “Maybe that was the point.”

She rolled her shoulders, cracking a smirk. “Well, if you want to keep playing that game, you better be ready to lose.”

You laughed, stepping back into your stance. “Bring it on.”

Bucky: The mission had gone sideways, not catastrophically per se. It was messy, chaotic, and just sloppy work. During the height of it all, Bucky went off script which made you more mad than anything. You refused to speak to him on the way back to the safe house.

You stormed through the front door first, tossing your gear onto the couch with more force than necessary. He followed, though slower and more casual—like nothing had just happened.

“We made it out, didn’t we?” Bucky called out. He began peeling off his gear.

You didn’t turn around. “Barely.”

He sighed. “Oh, come on—”

"I'm not talking with you about this," you quickly cut him off, giving him a warning glare. You were still fuming and frustrated with him. And he knew it. "I'm going to go shower."

He says something under his breath. You stop walking. You turn back to face him ever so slowly.

"What was that?" You were seething now.

“What? Don’t give me that look—” Bucky shakes his head.

"Barnes."

He knew exactly what that meant.

The name cut through the air like a warning shot. He straightens immediately, swallowing thick and realizing the severity of your seriousness. You never use that name — not unless he’s in big trouble.

He watched you for a moment, jaw ticking like he was deciding whether or not to push his luck. Eventually, Bucky took some quiet calculated steps towards you. He watched you carefully, waiting for any more warning signs.

"Oh...I know that tone," Bucky said cautiously. He kept his movements limited, but still few closer to you. "You're mad at me."

You crossed your arms over your chest and spun around on the heels of your feet so that your back was facing him. You didn't even want to look at him right now, still beyond annoyed and frustrated by his reckless behavior.

“I hate it when you’re mad at me,” Bucky admitted softly as if trying to win you back. “Especially when you call me that. You say it like I’m someone you don’t even like.”

You threw a brief glance over your shoulder, still keeping composure. "Well, right now, I don't."

He cracked a small, sad smile. “Fair.”

Another beat passed. The tension had softened, but it was still there just coiled tight between frustration and care.

Bucky took a step closer. “Is there anything I can do to fix it?”

Finally, you willed yourself to turn around in order to face him head on. His breath caught in the back of his throat as he awaited your reaction. You looked at him, really looked, and let out a slow breath.

“Stop acting like you have to handle everything on your own.” Your voice still laced with venom.

“I’m trying,” Bucky nodded. “Old habits die hard.”

You scoffed, a sound almost playful. Your tight demeanor slowly melting away because he always seemed to know just the right thing to say.

"Will you forgive me?" Bucky wondered, catching your gaze and sounding hopeful.

Though you sported a soft smile on your lips, you still weren't willing to just cave into him like your normally did. He needed some punishment; otherwise, he'd never learn his lesson.

You strode towards the bathroom without saying another word, leaving him to watch your retreating figure. You didn't give him an answer, but he knew what this meant for him.

"I take it that means I'm sleeping on the couch tonight?" Bucky called after you.

"Damn right."

John: It was one of the many moments when John simply wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on his phone, scrolling endlessly through messages, articles, and whatever had his face on it.

You needed help carrying a heavy box into your room. Struggling near the doorway, you carefully set it down and looked over at him expectantly. You wiped the sweat from your brow.

“John,” you called, but he didn’t look up. You tried again, a little sharper this time. “John.”

Nothing again. You placed your hands on your hips, clearly annoyed that he wasn't listening to you at the moment. It was time to bring out the big guns.

"Walker!" That got his attention real fast.

He looked up, confused. He put his phone down. “Yeah?”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just watched him with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Wait. Did I do something?” John observed, seeing the obvious look of annoyance in your eyes.

“You weren't listening to me," you explained to him blankly.

“Okay…” He frowned. “But very rarely do you ever call me by my last name. It almost sounded like I was in trouble."

You blinked, raised a brow at him. “Do you want to be in trouble?”

He shrugged, sending you a slight smirk. “I mean… not unless it’s the fun kind?”

Your shoulders slumped. “Walker.”

He grinned nervously. “There it is again! Is this a dominance thing? A flirting thing? Am I—am I supposed to salute you right now?”

You leaned closer. “I could make you.”

Alexei: Getting ready for another mission, Alexei was already decked out in his gear, but there were very few times where he wasn't wearing the suit anyways. He quickly fitted his helmet securely on his head when he heard his name being called loudly down the hallway.

“Shostakov!"

"Uh oh.” He said to himself.

Hearing his name like that made his blood run cold and the color drain from his face. He cautiously made his way to the door and stepped into the hallway to find you standing there with your hands on your hips. Giving him that look.

“Shostakov?" Alexei repeated, clearly confused because you rarely said his last name like that. "What is this, prison? You trying to sound like KGB agent or angry ex-wife?”

You snorted. “You don’t like it?”

“I hate it,” Alexei made sure to enunciate. “Call me Alexei. Or Red Guardian if you are feeling romantic.”

You raised a brow. “Romantic?”

He winked. “Well, you calling me Shostakov—I assume you’re mad at me. I cannot allow this. Come here.” He held out his arms exaggeratedly.

You laughed, dodging around him, but he followed anyway.

“You wound me. You treat me like I'm some careless brute.” Alexei was always one for the dramatics. You threw a glance over your shoulder.

“You are a brute,” you explained to him. “Especially with that whole tall, loud, intimidating thing going on.”

His eyes gleamed instantly. He snapped his fingers like he'd just discovered something remarkable. “Ahhh. Now I see. You are flirting poorly, but enthusiastically. This I admire.”

You stopped in your steps, spinning around to face him. He held his hands up in surrender, almost afraid you'd hit him or something. “I am not flirting poorly.”

He took your hand, placed it over his chest. “Feel this? This is the heart of a man falling for you because you called him Shostakov with sass in your eyes and sin in your voice.”

You drew your hand away and grumbled under your breath. "At least I got your attention."

Ava: The whole team was gathered in the conference room for the updates, logistics, and information collected for an upcoming mission they were planning. The team sat in their designated seats, growing bored of listening to Valentina talk for hours on end.

By the end of the meeting, Valentina ordered you to hand out the files to each member. You dutifully passed them out in order.

You pass her a file without looking up.

“This one’s yours, Starr. Try not to phase through the intel this time.” You mentioned offhandedly.

Ava’s fingers froze on the pages. Her head lifted slowly, eyes narrowing. “You said that like I’m already guilty.”

You smile faintly. “You usually are.”

She cleared her throat, a little too loudly, and pushed to her feet. You both started toward the door, footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway.

"You used my last name," Ava mentioned. Her eyes straight ahead so not to draw attention to them.

"Mhmm. Did I?" You teased.

"You usually only call me that when you’re annoyed.” Ava added. You were a few steps ahead, but she watched you from the corner of her eye.

You shrugged, not bothering to turn around. “Or when I want your attention.”

That stopped her—not physically, but you could feel the pause in her silence, the way the air shifted behind you. You didn’t look back.

But you didn’t need to.

She was already watching you. And you knew she'd follow.

Bob: You spot Bob fiddling with some tech gear in the corner of the room, completely focused. You walk up behind him, pretending to look serious. But really just doing it to mess with him.

"Be careful, Reynolds." You warned.

His head snapped up so fast you thought he’d given himself whiplash. He dropped the gear immediately like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to to.

"If I catch you breaking another one of my gadgets, you’re going to owe me more than just an apology.”

He breathed a nervous laugh once he realized you were just messing with him. He put some distance between him and the table in front of him. He looked nervous, avoiding eye contact with you.

You tilted your head, noticing his odd behavior. “What’s with the face?” You asked.

“Well, you never call me that unless something’s wrong.” Bob noticed, now messing with his sleeves.

“Maybe something is wrong.” You smiled, but he misinterpreted it.

He panicked instantly; his hands flying up in deference. “I knew it. You saw the footage. I—I didn’t mean to break your favorite mug. I—It just slipped out of my fingers—"

You stared at him, mouth agape. “You broke my favorite mug?”

This time, Bob really flinched.

"You—you didn't know." Bob realized slowly, like he was only now realizing the true depths of his betrayal.

“No, Reynolds. I didn’t know.” You crossed your arms and he hated the way you used his name with that tone. “But I do now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, honestly!” he rushed out. “Let me buy you a new one. Or—or fifteen new ones. Whatever you like. It's on me. I’ll handcraft one. I’ll invent pottery. Just—please don’t hate me.”

Your originally upset expression started to ease away at his idea. Your mouth twitched. The part of you that wanted to be mad stood no chance against his pleading eyes.

“You’d really buy me fifteen mugs?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he only smiled back.

"Whatever it takes to make you happy," Bob confessed truthfully.

You bit your lip, trying hard not to laugh. Your arms slowly dropped from their crossed position.

"You're lucky I like you," you silently forgave him and he couldn't help the smile that grew on his face.

"I think I'm the lucky one."