#which is just...not really possible when youre making a new costume every single month on top of a demanding job

[squeakadeeks]

"In this world, I'm known as...the Winter King" 🌨❄️🌬

This cosplay was so so close to never seeing the light of day, as this was the aforementioned project I rage quit to procrastinate with Nekomancer on haha. I really adored the fionna and cake special (and adventure time in general) and wanted to cosplay from it for eons...although I will admit this project was intended to be "generic blue and silver winter regal outfit for a variety of characters" and it was a toss up on whether or not the first run was going to go to the Winter King/Simon or Jack Frost...but I couldn't find my jack frost wig so here we are!

This was my first time working a lot with velvet and low key....I loved it and would love to use it more.

[peaky-shelby]

Delicate | Frank Castle x OC

Author's note: want to make this into a big story, if you want more lmk pls

Previous episode: prologue

Episode: are you ready for i?

Next Episode: episode 2

Summary: Alex Walker and Frank Castle have one thing in common and that's how delicate they are. He is back but the girls he remembers is gone, could that possibly be his fault?

Knew he was a killer, first time that I saw him

16 MONTHS AGO

The first time she thought, she saw him, she didn’t really see him at all. He was a shadow in between the dim lights in the darkest alleys of Hell’s kitchen. She heard the gunshots and the screams and she run towards them, she saw his figure with a gun in hand running after his execution was over. She ran after him, upon the roofs and down in the streets until she lost him. News about him traveled fast, the new vigilante with a bloody agenda with many names. She didn’t agree fully with what he did but she couldn’t pretend she was sorry for his victims either. Which led to many arguments with Matt and Foggy.

The second time she saw him his figure was clearer, it was one of the first nights she had gone on a mission with Matt and they tried to hold him down, fighting on the roof but Frank had the bigger and better guns when he shot Matt in the head that was the first time, she really felt anger for him. Doubting whether he really was just a serial killer, it was also a stepping stone for mad to be able to say “I told you so” which he did multiple times.

The third time was on TV, his face appeared on every single channel she watched, police calling for any sort of information. Meanwhile, his victims were getting multiplied but they were all the same, bad men with evil motives, and again she could feel no sorrow for them. Matt was still trying to get him with no luck and perhaps it was her will to impress him and prove to him that she was as good as him after the training or a secret desire to have a conversation with the mysterious man. A big difference between her and Matt was her lack of faith in any sort of belief, which made her ethics a little easier to break and change. Karen who had been working in finding more information about the guy talked to her about the suspicions she had of his connection to a massacre that had taken place in the central park which led to dozens of people dead, including kids. And many more hurt and traumatized.

The fourth time was In Central Park, during the night. She had gone there by herself to find him, to tell him what she wasn’t sure. But he was sitting across the carousel, looking calm and peaceful. She approached him as the kids were going up for their last ride and she sat next to him, her face hiding in her long red hoody. She made sure she was looking forward so he wouldn’t be able to see it. She sensed him moving when she sat there, looking at her and trying to get a glimpse of her face.

“Who the ‘ell are you?”

“a person that wants to talk”

“No chance you are connected to the other red guy”

“It doesn’t matter”

“What is he? Your boyfriend? Is this like a couple’s costume thing?”

He had humor but she held her laugh and shook her head “It’s none of your business”

“Look If you’re here for revenge about the shot, I respect that. So, I’ll let you go and pretend I never saw you. Now leave.”

“Funny thing I don’t trust you around the kids.”

Frank glanced at her, his eyes piercing through the rad fabric that was keeping her identity a secret. She could imagine that he didn’t appreciate the joke.

“They are not the target.”

“Neither was Daredevil but you shot him. Makes me think you don’t really care about the collateral damage.”

“I wasn’t gonna kill him but he should have minded his business that night.”

“You’re chasing and killing people in his city that makes it his business.”

“I’m cleaning the city.” Alexandra noticed he checked his clock, wondering who he was expecting. “He should be thankful.

“What poor human is on your list now?”

“The humans I kill are not poor you can trust me on that”

“They have families- “

“So did I!” he spat out “so you and your boyfriend can save your lectures for somebody else because I’m not buying it!”

She scoffed. Looking down, it was now or never. “I know about the mass shooting.”

She couldn’t see him but his eyes, they settled on her and his gaze made her feel like he was holding her, threatening her.

“What do you know?”

“More thank you think. And don’t look at me like that because I am not scared of you.”

He very quickly tried to grab her face. She smacked his hand, holding it and twisting it, and punched his face so she would have time to pull up her hoodie again. Frank was stronger though and he twisted her hand the other way, while also cupping her face with his other hand, forcing her to look up at him and drop the hoodie. This was the first time the figure had a face and it wasn’t the one they advertised on television, the clean marine. It was dirty, bruised, scarred and scary.

“What do you know?” he repeated.

“I know which gangs were involved. I know your family died in the crossfire. Many other people as well. I’m not sure why yet-“

“And why are you here?”

“Because the way you’re going… you’ll end up in jail before you get any answers!”

“Who sent you?”

“No one.” She said trying to push his hands off her. But his grasp got tighter. “Who are you expecting?”

He looked into her eyes and she felt like he was reading her mind like he could see right through her.

“You ask too many questions.”

“I only asked one.”

“And that’s too much.” He let her go, she lowered her head, breathing heavily “Now go.”

She stroked her cheeks, where he had held her. His grasp was so tight she felt a painful sensation still. He looked back at the carousel; the ride was ending. He checked his clock again.

“you said something about cleaning the city. The last man, I heard saying that, is in jail now.”

“I don’t care where this ends for me, sweetheart. As long as it’s over for them the rest is irrelevant”

“Why not try to get both? Justice and answers. You kill them all and you will never know if they were more behind this. So, it’s never really over. And what kind of punishment is death?” he looked at her, confused “You give them eternal rest while you pay for their deaths. So, who are you really punishing?”

He turned his body at her, giving her his full attention. He looked intrigued and annoyed at the same time. “Who are you?”

Her eyes remained on him, she struggled to find the right words and she doubt she was just asking for her name. She lowered her head, looking at her hands, the scars on them. “I’m someone that wants to help- “

“Your boyfriend approves of that?”

“He is not my boyfriend!” she snapped, looking up.

He nodded, understanding “Brother, then?”

“I told you before it’s none of your business!”

“Well, whatever he is to you tell him not to stand in my way otherwise ill kill him. Now leave-“

She punched him and he didn’t even see it coming. He laughed, holding his chin “you got a good hand sweetheart.”

She stood up, pulling up her hoodie “Yeah, I do, and I can put up a Goodman fight so trust me when I say you want me on your side. If not for my moves, then because I am the only one willing to help you” She gave him a card with her number on it, it took a while before he accepted it.

“I don’t need your help,” he said tearing it apart and standing up. God, he was huge and she felt so small. The light from the carousel faded and she knew that meant it was closed that made his figure even scarier like a body with no face. “Now go before you get yourself hurt-“

“I told you I’m not-“ she didn’t get to finish the sentence, men in black started coming out from the darkness, holding their guns and aiming at them “what the-“

“I told you to leave.” He moved away from her and walked slowly to one of the guys.

“Let’s make this easy frank. You’re coming with us-“ frank grabbed his hand, starting a fight but the unknown man stabbed him with a needle in his neck. Alexandra moved forward, pulling out her knives from her boots to help frank but one of the men shot her arm before she had any time to act. “Who the hell is this?” she tried to get up but they were simply outnumbered and ambushed and she was stabbed too with the same needle. She saw frank fighting with another guy and more men surrounding them like they had fallen into a mice trap. She tried to hold on to her knives and managed to get a few before her vision began getting blurry and the world around her seemed to turn.

Next thing she knew she woke in a basement, laying on the floor and she sat up quickly but before she could stand, she was pulled back by the cuffs that were holding her tight on a pole. It was the cold air in her cheeks that made her realize her mask was missing. She pulled once and twice, groaning as the fresh gunshot wound in her shoulder ached bitterly until she heard an all too familiar voice.

“Not gonna work sweetheart.” He said and she looked to her right, only to see Frank tight on a chair himself, head down.

“So much for your reputation.”

“I’ll be out of here soon. Don’t worry about my reputation!”

“It’s not you, I’m worried about!”

“I told you to leave.”

“Should have listened to him.” Said Finn Cooley, walking in like he was entering a playground. “Now he’s gonna have another name on his conscience.” He smiled “that is if he cares about you at all.”

“He doesn’t and neither do I! So let me be on my way!”

“No! I think I’m gonna let you watch. You see your friend here-“

“He is not my friend!” she pulled on the cuffs again.

“He is on a mission of retribution, aren’t you boy?” he took a chair from the corner of the room and sat across him “you killed my son. He’s underground because of you and you were coming after me too! You’re walking away leaving bodies on your trails. Taking what think you deserve- “

Alexandra pulled on her cuffs again. Finn punched frank multiple times on either side of his face and held his neck, forcing him to look at him “now you’ll give it back to me and before the burning comes, you’ll get a bullet in your head. This time it will be fetal. So, where’s my money?”

Frank smiled, his teeth and lips were bloody. His features were bruised; Alexandra wondered where he got the strength.

“Your boy’s in a box and you just want your money back?”

Fin punched him again. This time harder, frank’s face fell to Alexandra’s direction. They locked eyes for a moment and she could see through his icy exterior, she could see pain. An inch of it that was gone by the next second. “You’re gonna die tonight but it’s your choice how and it’s your choice if she will die with you or not!”

“She has nothing to do with this” he mumbled under his breath and Finn moved his chair closer

“You think I care? She will pay for your sins as if she committed them herself unless you tell me what I need to know- “

“Okay-“he whispered, “I’ll tell- I’ll tell you-“

Finn smiled but Lexie, she could feel the storm brewing and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t see his next move coming. Frank knocked him on the nose with his head twice before his men held his body back. Finn wiped the blood off his face and took out his gun, hitting frank with the back of it.

“I’ll be honest, boy,” he said getting up “I was hoping that it was gonna come to this-“ he took a drill from the table next to her and the minute Alexandra saw it, she started pulling harder on the cuffs. Finn walked back to Frank who was yelling now. Alexandra saw a spare bolt on the floor. She heard Frank scream and the drill working against his skin. She tried to block it out and moved her hands on the end of the pole. She moved her body any way she could until she reached the bolt and when she had it, she started trying to unlock the cuffs. Sitting in a way so that her hands and what she was doing were hiding behind her back. But Her hands were shaking and tears were in her eyes. Listening to his screams was torture. Even her breathing was chocking her and all she could see was red, her body trembling, her eyes shut closed, her hands frozen. She knocked her head backwards on to pole, words and curses slipping out her lips in whispers that made no sense.

“Again” echoed a voice in her head.

Suddenly silence fell in the room and for a moment, Lexie thought he was dead. The punisher was dead but then he heard his breathing, loud and heavy. She focused on that, she let herself calm down and continued messing with the cuffs when frank suddenly turned his attention to her. “Well, if torturing you gives me nothing maybe you need to hear her screams the way she heard yours.” Finn moved towards her now, drill in hand. Her heart was so loud she was sure Matt would be able to hear it wherever he was and whatever he was doing. The drill began to spin, the noise echoing in her head and she could feel Frank staring but without saying anything. Whether he really didn’t care or he was bluffing, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t gonna roll the dice on it. Finn kneeled in front of her, smiling that wicked smile.

“let’s see how long before you break- “

The drill got closer; her breath got shorter but she wasn’t going to beg she was too stubborn for that. Sweat was covering her face, fear choking her face, and just for a second, she looked at him, not really sure what her expression was at that moment but he-

“Fine- stop! I’ll tell you what you need to know but she walks out of here!”

Finn laughed and moved away, allowing her to breathe normally again. Frank gave them the location and while Finn was calling his guys to go for the hidden treasure, he looked at her. A look she couldn’t really understand, she saw him doing something with his hands behind the chair and she reminded herself she had to keep going too. She focused on unlocking the cuffs, she was almost there when in a quick moment Finn turned back to Frank angry, something had gone wrong-

“You son a bitch- YOU BLEW IT UP- KILL EM BOTH-“

She unlocked the cuffs and jumped on Finn, pushing him back. The drill dropped from his hand and she grabbed it herself. She put it in his leg, drilling a hole. She watched him yelling but didn’t stop until a man aimed with his gun at her. She threw the drill on the man’s head, knocking him out. She stood up and looked behind her, frank was outing his own fights, wrestling with two guys at ones. While she was distracted, she was pushed by another guy, throwing himself over her and hovering on top of her, holding her arms back. She kicked him, trying to get him off another gunshot was heard signaling the death of the man frank was fighting with. She bit the man’s arm, he yelled but his grip was still tight and he moved his hands to her neck choking her and then- blood, all over her face, the man’s blood who had been shot fatally by frank in the head. She was in shock; she could taste it, she could hear that echo in her head again, a voice calling her to stand up and keep fighting. Reality and hallucination has become one and indifferent. She felt like she was trapped under a cave, the air was ending and she couldn’t get out, her bones were crushing under the rocks “Help” she whispered

“You never ask for help” the echo said “You’re useless if you do.”

“Help me” she said again, louder, begging and then screaming “It was me, I did it-"

She heard the bang again. And screamed louder. She thought she’d suffocate when the body was pulled off hers and she took a deep breath in, sitting up, balancing herself on her elbows. Looking around in fear and terror. She saw standing over her and for whatever reason she could focus on him but there was still a buzz in her head, loud and confusing.

“Get up” he put his hand behind her neck, helping her raise her head “look at me” everything was spinning. “hold this and stay behind” he offered her his hand but she didn’t take it, she could barely move. He sighed and he wiped the blood off her eyes and lips removing the taste of it. It helped. He held her face, which was so small in his big palms, forcing her to look into his eyes “this is why I don’t want your help. Because you can’t. You don’t have the stomach for it- No one does“

She gulped and shook her head. Yes, she had been triggered by the blood and the gunshots and the brains that exploded in front of her but this wasn’t the end. She put any strength she had into getting up and she held the gun tightly in her hand. “I’m fine-“

He stood up as well and he wasn't In any better condition than her. He could barely stand but they had each other and they were gonna get out of here no matter what. He pointed at her “you’ll stand behind me. Because I still don’t trust you, you hear me?”

She nodded, her head turning a little, and following his lead they got out of the room and in the hallway. Immediately someone shot him in the hand and they found cover in a corner. She knew that if he lost any more blood he would faint. “Ok…ok…” he laid his head back on the wall and closed his eyes “One batch, two batch. Penny and dime.” He whispered and moved forwards, shooting anyone he could get but they were getting multiplied by the second and she was trying to shoot some of them but she was always better with knives. She took off the safety on the gun, she was prepared for the worst. They’d shoot and cover, shoot and cover.

Silence.

Alex and Frank looked at each other. Her gut was telling her that it was a good sign. she looked behind the wall as frank tried to pull her back but there was no reason to. Matt was there. Running towards her. She placed her hands on his chest and he cupped her face, feeling her wounds.

“I’m fine!” she said quickly “he’s worst!” she glanced back at the wall, frank was still behind of.

“you’re bleeding. Your arm- “ he touched the wound

“It’s alright, it’s nothing-“

“They saw your face.” He said, stroking her cheeks. She held his hand.

She shook her head “didn’t hear my name.” she held his hand “help him.” She said and ran in the corner. Frank had collapsed on the floor “He helped me-“

She kneeled in front of him and looked into his eyes, moving his face left and right. Checking for his pulse. He seemed so small at that moment, just like any other guy “Do you have my knives?” she asked and Matt handed them to her. She tore Frank’s shirt in half and wrapped the fabric around the hole in his foot that was created by the drill. “Frank?” He hummed but said nothing.

“Police is coming,” said Matt.

“We’ll find a way around the back,” she said, using the other part of the shirt to clean the wound on his head.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Help me get him up!”

“No, hold on! What did you say?” he asked and pulled her by the arm to stand up.

“We don’t have time to argue!”

“Yeah, we do because we are giving him to the police!”

“Ma-“ she stopped herself and moved farther away from frank’s body so he wouldn’t be able to listen. “He had a family! Alright? And They were killed! Did you know that? I didn’t know that” she hissed “there’s more to the story! If we hand him over now, we’ll never know.”

“And he will kill 10 more people before we do.”

“he’s too weak now, he won’t be able to fight for a while. I’ll keep him in the apartment-“

“Are you insane?”

“I think I’m more sure about this than anything else I’ve ever done.”

“He is dangerous!”

“He is in pain” she protested. “and I promised to help him so I will!”

“Then I’ll take him to my apartment, not yours.”

“He already knows who I am. There’s no need to know who you are as well, or for you as…” she whispered his name “Matt Murdock to get involved.” She smiled “plus I think he likes me more.”

She wasn’t gonna change her mind and she would fight him if she had to but thankfully, she didn’t have to. Matt helped her get him up and take him to her apartment, where they helped patch his wounds and tight him on her bed and they waited for him to wake up.

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

Some really tasty factoids here.

Cut for length.

Dragon Age: Origins

The continent of Thedas was at one point going to be named Pelledia, a name initially floated by James Ohlen

“Qunari” was a temporary name that ended up unintentionally sticking, much like “Thedas”

Mary Kirby wrote the Landsmeet. To this day, nobody understands how it works, except possibly her. If she’s “really really drunk” she can explain how it works. There’s as many words in it as Sten’s entire conversations put together

Concept art for Thedosian art - as in in-world art - draws heavily on Renaissance-era portraiture, the Art Nouveau movement, religious styles and media like stained glass, and favorite pieces from the golden age of illustrations in the early 20th century

Andrastianism in-world (art-wise) is depicted in wildly different methods depending on who in-world made the art in question. “One religion, 3 different lenses”. There’s the Chantry take, the Orlesian take and the Fereldan take; each with its own different interpretations, different mediums and different stories

The stained glass images were drawn by Nick Thornborrow for DAI, to decorate religious spaces in that game “and beyond”

irl Viking art influenced Ferelden

Greek and Italian art influenced Orlais

The book also had other insights into and anecdotes from the development of DAO, but I’ve transcribed them recently as they’re essentially the stories DG has recently been relating on the awesome Summerfall Studios DAO playthrough Twitch streams. (On those streams he provides dev commentary while Liam Esler plays through DA. The ones with DG are currently once every two weeks. Check them out! Here’s a calendar where you can check when the next one is) Instead of repeating myself I’ll just provide the link to the first transcript. From there you can navigate to the subsequent parts. Note these streams are ongoing. At this point I will also point you to a related post which is cliff notes of the Dragon Age chapter in Jason Schreier’s book Blood Sweat and Pixels.

Dragon Age II

DAO had the longest development period in BioWare history. In contrast DA2 had the shortest

Initially DA2 was going to be an expansion to DAO. A few months in EA said “Yeah, expansions like these don’t sell very well, so let’s make it a sequel.” So it suddenly became DA2 and they had to make it even bigger, although they still only had 1.5 years of time in which to do this

Production of DA2 officially lasted only 9 months, and at the time the team was still supporting live content for DAO! They finished development that January after the design team crunched all the way through the holiday period that year. Then it went to cert 9 times

The limited time they had is why the story takes place mostly in and around 1 city, and over 7 years (so it was temporal, rather than over physical distance, because a more expansive world would have taken more irl time to make)

They had no time to review even the main plot. Mike Laidlaw pitched the idea of 3 stories taking place at different points in the PC’s life, tied together by Varric’s recollections of events. DG rolled with this and made 1 presentation on the idea. This presentation was then approved and off they went

As they were writing DG realized that there was going to be no oversight and that everything was going to be a ‘first draft’. “Because nobody had time.” He sat down with the writers and said “Look, here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is gonna be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.”

Looking back, DG has mixed feelings on DA2. “A lot of corners were cut. The public perception was that it was smaller than DAO. That’s a sin on its own.”

Despite this he thinks DA2 has some of the best writing in the series, especially character-wise. The DA2 chars are his favorite

The pace with which production progressed may in some ways have helped. “When we do a lot of revision, we often file away [as in buff off] some of the good writing as well. Somehow DA2′s whirlwind process resulted in some really good writing”

The pace meant chars landed on the writers in various stages of completion. For example Isabela was fairly defined due to appearing in DAO. In contrast Varric at the start was just that single piece of widely-shown concept art

Varric was conceived as a storyteller not a fighter. His skills are talking and bullshitting. Hence the question became, so what does this guy do in combat? The direction was to make him as different as possible to Oghren, so not a warrior. He couldn’t be a dual-wielding rogue in order to differentiate him from Bela. But you can’t really picture this guy with a bow. “For a dwarf, it would probably be a crossbow. We didn’t have crossbows, or we only had crossbows for the darkspawn. And they were part of the models. We didn’t have a separate crossbow that was equip-able by the chars. They had to like, crop one off a darkspawn and remodel it. And that became Bianca” (quote: Mary Kirby)

“Dwarven mages are exceedingly rare.” [???]

If DAO was a classic fantasy painting, DA2 was a screenshot from a Kurosawa film or a northern Renaissance painting. (Here Matt Rhodes was commenting on art style)

John Epler: “In any one of our games, there’s a 95% chance that if you turn the camera away from what it’s looking at, you’ll see all kinds of janky stuff. The moment we know the camera is no longer facing someone, we no longer care what happens to them. We will teleport people around. We will jump people around. We will literally have someone walk off screen and then we will shift them 1000 meters down, because we’re fixing some bug.” John also talked about this camera stuff in a recent charity Twitch stream for Gamers For Groceries. There’s a writeup of that stream here

Designing Kirkwall pushed concept artists to the limits of visual storytelling, because it has a long history that they wanted to be present. It was once the hub of Tevinter’s slave empire, so it needed to look brutal and harsh, but it also then needed to feel reclaimed, evolved, and with elements of contemporary Free Marches culture

The initial plan was for DA titles to be distinguished by subtitles not numbers, so that each experience could stand on its own rather than feel like a sequel or continuation. (My note: New PCs in each entry make sense then when you consider this and other factoids we know like how DA is the story of the world not of any one PC). Later, DA2′s name was made DA2 in a bid to more clearly connect the game to its predecessor. For DAI they returned to the original naming convention. (My note: so I’d reckon they’d be continuing the subtitle naming convention for DA4)

DA2 was initially code-named “Nug Storm”, strictly internally

The Cancelled DA2 Expansion - Exalted March

This was a precursor to DAI

It was meant to bridge the gap between DA2 and DAI

It focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosion, with Cory serving as the villain

Meredith’s red lyrium statue was basically going to infest Kirkwall and it would end up [with what would end up] the red templars taking over Kirkwall and essentially being Cory’s army

To stop him Hawke would have recruited various factions, including Bela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing Hawke to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process

It was meant to bring DA2′s story to an end and end in Varric’s death. DG was very happy with this because all of DA2 is Varric’s tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. “And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.” It tied things up and would have broken many fan hearts, something BioWare writers notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of DAI, the decision was made to cancel EM, work any hard-to-lose concepts into DAI, and in the process save Varric’s life. DG has talked about the Varric dying thing before

Concept art for EM explored new areas previously not depicted in the DA universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar chars. Varric was going to war, what would he have worn? With Anders, if he survived DA2, the plan was to present a redeemed Warden

A char that vaguely resembled Sera in DAI was first concepted for EM. This fact was mentioned near this concept art (see the female elf) and this concept art of Bethany with the blond bob

The writers sketched out plans to end it with Hawke having the option to marry their LI. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if the player opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. This asset made it into DAI (Sera and Cullen’s weddings in Trespasser). The dress can also be seen in DAI during an ambient NPC wedding after completing a chain of war table missions

The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in EM. This idea ended up carrying over to the beginning of DAI. (My note: Lol, the idea that DA2 could have had 2 Chantries being destroyed in it 😆)

World of Thedas

Sheryl Chee and Mary Kirby started with “a disgusting little dish called fluffy mackerel pudding”. In the middle of DAO’s busy dev period one of them (they can’t remember who) found a recipe online for this, scanned in from a 70s cookbook. “I don’t understand why it was fluffy. Why would you want fluffy mackerel pudding?” MK says. “We loved it so much we included it in a DAO codex.”

This led them to create more food for Thedas, full recipes included, like a Fereldan turnip and barley stew from MK and SC’s Starkhaven fish and egg pie. The fish pie became Sebastian’s favorite. “To me it made sense for it to be fish pie because a lot of the Free Marches are on the coast”, SC says, “It was something that was popular in medieval times, so I thought, let’s make a fish pie! I looked at medieval recipes and I concocted a fish pie which I fed to my partner, and he was like ‘This is not terrible’”

For WoT the whole studio was asked to contribute family recipes which might have a place in Thedas. SC adapted these to fit in one Thedosian culture or another, including a beloved banana bread that localization producer Melanie Fleming would regularly bake to keep the DA team motivated. “Melanie’s banana bread got us through Inquisition”

DAI

It says part of DAI takes place in or near the border with Nevarra [???]

This game was aimed to be bigger than DA2 and even DAO in every conceivable way

The first hour had to do a lot of heavy lifting, tying together the events of DAO and DA2 while introducing a new PC, new followers etc in the aftermath of the big attack. DG rewrote it 7 times then Lukas Kristjanson did 2 more passes

DG: “Our problem is always that our endings are so important, but we leave them to last, when we have no time. I kept pushing on DAI: ‘Can we work on the ending now? Can we work on the ending now? Can we do it early on?’ Because I knew exactly what it was going to be. But despite the fact that it kept getting scheduled, whenever the schedule started falling behind, it kept getting pushed back... so, of course, it got left til last again.”

“The reveal of the story’s real antagonist, Solas, a follower until the end, when he betrayed the player”. “Solas’ story remains a main thread in Inquisition’s long-awaited follow-up” [these aren’t DG quotes, just bits of general text]

Over the course of development they had 8 full-time writers and 4 editors working on it. Other writers joined later to help wrangle what ended up being close to 1 million words of dialogue and unspoken text. While many teams moved to a more open concept style of work for DAI, the writers remained tucked away in their own room, a choice DG says was necessary, given how much they talked. All the talking had a purpose ofc as if someone hit a bump or wall in their writing they would open the problem up to the room

As writing on a project like DAI progresses, the writers grow punchier and weirder things make it into the game. This is especially the case towards the end of a project (they get tired, burned out)

Banter and codexes require less ‘buy-in’ (DG has talked about this concept a few times on the Twitch streams) from other designers. DG liked to leave banter for last as a reward because it was fun. Banter begins as lists of topics for 2 followers to discuss. These may progress over time or be one off exchanges. One banter script can balloon to well over 10k words. “The banter was always huge because we were always like, laughing, and really at that point, our fields of fucks were rather barren, so we would just do whatever”

The bog unicorn happened pretty much by accident. It was designed by Matt Rhodes and was one of his fav things to design. They needed horse variations and he had already designed an undead variant which was a bog mummy [bog body]. irl these are preserved in a much different way to traditional mummies. When someone dies in a bog their skin turns black and raisin-like. The examples we know of tend to have bright red hair for whatever reason. It’s a very striking look and MR wanted to do a horse version of this as he thought it’d be neat. 5 mins before the review meeting for it he had a big ‘Aha!’ moment, quickly looked up a rusty old Viking sword, and photoshopped it through its skull like that was how it died. “And I was like, ‘I just made a unicorn. Alright, in it goes!’” It got approved. “So we built the thing. It fit. It told a little story”

With the irl Inquisition longsword, one of the objects they tested its cleaving ability on was a plush version of Leliana’s nug Schmooples

The concept art team explored a wide variety of visuals for the Inquisitor’s signature mark. It needed to look powerful and raw but couldn’t look like a horrific wound. In some cases, as cool as the idea looked on paper, they just weren’t technically feasible, especially as they had to be able to fit on any number of different bodies

Bug report: “Endlessly spawning mounts! At one point during development, Inquisitors could summon a new horse every time they whistled, allowing them to amass a near infinite number of eager steeds that faithfully followed them across Thedas. “You could go charging across levels and they’d all gallop behind you,” Jen Cheverie says, “It was beautiful.” Trotting into town became an epic horse siege as a tidal wave of mounts enveloped the streets. Jen called it her Army of Ponies”

The giants came from DA Week, an internal period when devs can pursue different individual creative projects that in some way benefit DA. They also had a board game from one of these that they were going to put in but they didn’t have time. It’s referenced though. It was dwarven chess

Josie’s outfit is made of gold silk and patterned velvet, with leather at her waist. She carries “an ornate ledger” and she has “an ornamented collar sitting around her neck, finished by a brilliant red ruby, like a drop of Antivan wine in a sunbeam”

Iron Bull’s armor is leather. His loose pantaloons and leather boots give him agility to charge

On DAI in particular, concept artists took special care to make sure costumes would be realistic, at least in a practical ‘this obeys the laws of physics and textiles’ sense. “While on Inquisition, we thought about cosplay from a concept art perspective. Given how incredible a lot of [cosplays] are, I now am not worried about them. In fact in some cases in the future I want to throw them curveballs like, ‘All right, you clever bastards. Let’s see if you can do this!’”

2 geese that nested on the office building and had chicks were named Ganders and Arishonk (it wasn’t known who was the mom or the dad). Other possible names were Carver Honke, Bethany Honke, Urdnot Pecks, Quackwall, Cassandra Pentagoose, the Iron Bill, Shepbird, Garroose, Admiral Quackett, Scout Honking, HChick-47 and Darth Malgoose

Bug report: “The surprising adventures of Ser Noodles!” DAI was the first time the series had a mount feature, meaning this had a lot of bugs. A lot of the teams’ favorite bugs were to do with the mounts. There was a period of time where the Inquisitor’s horse seemed to lose all bone and muscle in its legs. They had a week or so where all quadruped legs were broken. It was a bit noticeable in things like nugs and other small beasties but the horse was insanely obvious. “The first time we summoned the horse [for this] and started running around, the entire QA exploration room just exploded with laughter.” Its legs flapped around like cooked fettucine, leading testers to lovingly nickname it Ser Noodles. At galloping speeds the legs almost looked like helicopter blades, especially when footage was set to classic pieces such as Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries

For DAI the artists were asked questions like “What would Morrigan wear to a formal ball? Can Cassandra pull off a jaunty hat?”

On DAI storyboarding became the norm. John Epler: “Cinematic design for the longest time was the Wild West. It was ‘here’s a bunch of content, now do it however you want’, which resulted in some successes and some failures.” Storyboarding gave designers a consistent visual blueprint based on ideas from designers, writers and concept artists

Quote from a storyboard by Nick Thornborrow (the Inquisitor going into the party at the end of basegame sequence): “Until Corypheus revealed himself they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. A magister and a darkspawn combined. The ultimate evil. So evil. Eviler than puppy-killers and egg farts combined.”

A general note on concept art:

In the early stages of any project, before the concept artists are aware of any writing, they like to just draw what they think cool story moments could be. It’s not unusual for the team to then be inspired by these and fold them into the game as the project progresses

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

[sourwulf]

best friends — isaac lahey x reader

༄  word count  —  1.7k

፨  characters  —  isaac lahey

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  none

✎  masterlist

─

staring in the mirror at your features made you realize how little you actually liked them. they fit together like an intricate puzzle, but not one you were satisfied with. you thought you were fairly pretty, but not beautiful, and you wished you were beautiful because you wanted to be enough for isaac.

isaac was your best friend, and had been for about three years. you’d met freshman year and had been inseparable ever since. you had been through everything together — his dad’s death (and abuse), him being bitten by derek hale and turned into a werewolf, and everything that came along with it.

you knew he never considered you more than a friend. you could feel it in your gut. but, despite that, you were madly in love with him. you had been for two and a half years. about seven months went by before you realized your feelings, but when you did, they hit you like a brick wall.

it was halloween of your freshman year of high school. isaac was big into dressing up, even if he didn’t go out. usually they were just small costumes, but this time, he went all out. he dressed up as a wizard, wearing a purple and black cloak, and he carried a staff. he had a tall and pointy hat that matched the cloak, and he wore a fake gray beard that hung down to his belly button. he was a huge dork about it and did his best to speak in only old english the whole night.

when you saw him in it you cracked up, and he put a “spell” on you to make you like it, and you played along.

since then, every day had been absolute hell for you. every single thing he did only made you fall more and more in love with him. sure, you had been through rocky times — like when his attitude shifted to him being a cocky twerp after being bit.

but he had you wrapped around his finger and won you back within a week. you couldn’t stay mad at him, as much as you hated to admit it. after all, you were in love with him.

you two stayed at each other’s house a lot, which started rumors amongst your friends, who teased the two of you about it. at first, your parents were wary about allowing it but became more lenient after a little while when they realized you were just friends.

and fast forward to tonight, isaac was coming over to your house to stay with you. you were already laying in bed reading a book when he knocked on your door.

“hey,” he said as he walked in, laying his stuff down on your desk.

“hey.”

“whatcha reading?”

“oh, the book thief.”

“haven’t you already read that, like, a million times?”

“yes, but it’s a good book.”

he nodded as he kicked his shoes off. “how was your day?”

he always asked this question, genuinely interested in how your day was every time, which only helped you fall in love with him.

“eh. it could’ve been better. yours?”

“same.”

“how’s scott?”

“he’s good. studying with stiles and allison.” he sat down in front of you, leaned against the footboard of your bed.

“i’m surprised they’re not running from a ghost or something,” you joked, making him laugh.

“don’t jinx them.” you just smiled, redirecting your eyes back to your book. “oh, i have some news,” he said with excitement suddenly prominent in his voice.

“do you?”

“i met this girl.” as soon as the words came out of his mouth, your heart dropped. “in one of my classes. we got paired for a project and i made some dumb joke and she thought it was hilarious. she gave me her number. i spent like three hours on the phone with her before i came over.”

you nodded as nicely and convincingly as possible. “th-that’s great! what’s her name?”

“crystal. she’s super sweet.”

“wow. i’m-i’m happy for you.” sadness was laced in your voice, and he seemed to notice.

“you okay?”

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine. all good.”

“y/n, i’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying. did i say something?”

you sighed. “isaac, really, it’s fine. i don’t feel like talking about it.” he reached over and snatched your book out of your hands, and you groaned. “give me that back.”

“not until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

“i said i don’t want to talk about it.”

“well, too bad.”

you sighed. “fine, just... just give me the book back.” you reached out and he handed it to you.

“now, tell me what’s up.”

“we’re best friends... right?” you asked after a few seconds.

“yeah, of course, we are.”

“just best friends?”

“uh... i don’t think i follow.”

you stared at your book for a moment. “isaac...” you physically couldn’t make yourself say what you were trying to. ‘i’m in love with you,’ you thought. but your brain refused to make your mouth form those words.

“what?” you didn’t answer. “what is it, y/n?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

“isaac... i... i’m in love with you.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, all you wanted was to take them back. you knew you had just ruined your friendship with him, which you didn’t want.

you finally looked at him to see a shocked and empathetic look on his face. and as soon as you saw it, you knew he didn’t feel the same.

“what?”

“i’m really sorry. i just... i needed you to know.”

“how long?” he asked simply.

“almost three years.”

“y/n-”

“and-and i understand if you don’t feel the same, but... god, i’m in love with you. desperately, hopelessly, deeply, madly... fucking in love with you. and i’ve tried to suppress those feelings, i really have. but every time you sing along to whatever song i play in my car, or drop something, or trip over your own feet... I can’t help it.”

“y/n-”

“and i know we’re supposed to just be best friends, but... it’s like a pit or a void in my heart that’s only filled when i’m around you.” you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. “and it’s embarrassing because the moment I realized it was freshman year halloween. when you dressed up as that wizard and refused to talk normally. and when i realized it, i went home and cried. because i knew you would never feel the same about me.”

you looked over at him to see he was staring at the bed in front of him. he was silent, which made you nervous.

“jesus. what a bombshell.” he reached up and rubbed his eyes. “i-i’m sorry, y/n. i just… i don’t feel the same.” you nodded and let a tear drip down your cheek as you looked back up at your book. “you have no idea...”

“don’t do that.”

“what your friendship means to me.”

“no. i don’t want to do that, isaac. i wanna be more than that.”

“i’m really sorry if you misinterpreted things, y/n. it’s probably my fault.”

“not your fault. i’m sorry i… misinterpreted our friendship.”

“i should get going,” he said softly.

“yeah,” you choked out.

“i’m sorry.”

and with that, he was on his feet, his shoes were on, and he was out of your house. the energy in your room was smothering, leaving you alone to soak your pillow in salty tears.

-

two weeks had passed since you’d seen isaac. you weren’t even sure he was coming to school, to be completely honest. you had three classes with him, and he was in none of them. not seeing him was weird, like something was missing.

it wasn’t until you stayed late after school one night to work on homework that you saw him again. you were walking past the locker rooms when a hand grabbed your arm and pulled you into the boys’ one, making you gasp in surprise.

you tore your arm from their grip but let out a deep breath when you made eye contact with him.

“jesus, isaac, you don’t just grab a girl and yank her into an empty room.”

he didn’t answer, he just looked at the floor. you were both silent for a moment, and you crossed your arms.

“what do you want?” you asked finally.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered. “look, what you said... that was a wake-up call for me. after i left-”

“abruptly, without warning. leaving me all alone.”

“when i was driving home, i started thinking. you’ve always been there for me, through thick and thin. when i fuck up, you’re always there to comfort me. i always have a pair of arms to hold me when i’m sad and a bed to sleep in when i don’t wanna be alone, or when my dad was being a dickhead. always. and i’ve been too stupid to look in front of me and see that. and, now that i think about it, i remember that when we met... i had the biggest crush on you.”

“you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“i’m not. i swear. i figured you didn’t feel the same, so i forced myself to move on. i thought about you every night for weeks after. i thought about how i wished i had even a sliver of a chance with you. and, through all of this, i guess i forgot all that. but now all those feelings are resurfacing. and they’re hitting me hard. you’ve been there for me from the start, and you’re everything to me.”

“how do i know you’re not just saying this out of guilt?”

“because if i was saying it out of guilt i wouldn’t do this.”

“do what-”

he stepped closer and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you closer and connecting your lips. you instantly kissed back, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.

two and a half years. you waited two and a half years for this, and you were finally getting it. you savored every single millisecond of it, kissing him like you’d never kissed anyone before.

when he pulled away, you looked up at him. he smiled at you before pecking you quickly on the lips.

“i’m sorry,” he said. “i should’ve done that sooner.”

“yeah.”

“i love you, y/n. so much”

with a smile, you repeated, “i love you, too, isaac.”

[sturchling]

Hi, when you have time, can you make a one shot about the aftermath of Mrs. Martin's intervention and the progress Marinette is making with saying no and not overworking? Has the parents and teachers really learned their lesson or just forgot it over time and went back to their usual habits? What about the classmates react and all? And Lila would try to spin it on her favor as always?

Anyway, I want to see some good salt and consequences if possible

Sorry for the long wait, hope you like it! For anyone curious, this is the original story: Part one

Mrs. Martin was pleased with the progress Marinette had been making with setting limits for herself. Marinette was now able to notice when she was becoming overworked and, while it was still immensely difficult for her to do, was able to tell people no when she was too busy.  Marinette still had a long way to go, but this was good progress for only a few months.

--------------

Marinette’s parents were also much better at not putting so much pressure on their daughter. Now that they realized the damage it had done to Marinette, they made sure to respect when she was to busy with school stuff to lend them a hand in the bakery, and made sure she had plenty of time to work on personal projects or just relax. They respected when Marinette told them no, and that went a long way in helping Marinette get more comfortable with saying it. 

---------------

Mr. Damocles and Mrs. Bustier had been thoroughly reprimanded and retrained. After their trainings, the suspensions that had been placed on them were lifted and they were allowed to return to work. Mr. Damocles had vowed to be better at helping students like Marinette, if only to stay off of Mrs. Martin’s bad side and keep his job. Mrs. Bustier on the other hand was a different story. 

--------------

Mrs. Bustier hadn’t learned anything from the training at all. She was sure that Marinette could handle the workload and was just exaggerating. Once she came back to the classroom, she started asking Marinette to do things for her again. At first, Marinette slipped back into her old ways, agreeing to help with every little thing. But this time her parents noticed her getting stressed, and reminded her to say no. The next day, when Mrs. Bustier asked her to stay after school and organize the work for the next day’s class, Marinette finally told her no. Mrs. Bustier was shocked. Marinette continued to tell Mrs. Bustier no, any time that she felt overworked. Which meant Mrs. Bustier had to start doing the left over work. 

---------------

The class also noticed the change in Marinette. They were used to Marinette helping them with every little thing. Last minute babysitting, needing clothes and banners for various things, or needing baked goods for a fundraiser. Marinette never said no. So when they went to her to ask for costumes for Nino’s next film, they were shocked when she said, “I’m sorry guys, but I can’t. I’m just to busy right now.” Nino tried asking again, sure that Marinette would eventually agree. She always did. “Come on dudette. I really need these costumes.” Marinette shook her head, gathering her things to head home since the final bell just rang. “No. I can’t. I am too busy right now with school work and my other commissions. If you can wait, you are welcome to submit a commission request through my website, and I will get to it when I can. But I can’t just drop everything to make costumes right now. I’m sorry.” 

---------------

Lila tried to turn this into something positive for her, sensing this could help turn the class against Marinette. “Marinette, why won’t you help your friends? Seems pretty selfish to work on commissions for money instead of making costumes for your friends. It isn’t even that much work, I know someone who could get it done in one day, so you should be able to as well.” Marinette turned back around at the door, to face the class again. “First of all, to design and create the five costumes you are asking for in a single night is next to impossible. I would love to meet this friend of yours that is capable of that. Secondly it isn’t selfish to focus on my work. The people who made these requests have paid for my work and it would be irresponsible of me to make them wait any longer than I already have. But if your friend is truly as capable as you say, surely she can help Nino. Problem solved.” Lila paled as she realized she had backed herself into a corner. As Marinette left the classroom, the class turned to Lila and asked her to talk to her friend. “I really need these costumes by the end of tomorrow, so if your friend could start now, that would be great.” Lila, immediately forgetting the lie that got her into this mess in the first place, tried to back out of the situation, saying “Guys, that is a lot to ask of someone to get done in a night. Its just not possible.” The class paused, noticing the contradiction to what Lila had already said. It didn’t take long after that for the class to realize that she is a liar. 

---------------

The class had practically exiled Lila from the class. No one talked to her and just generally ignored her. The class continued to try and get Marinette to help them with projects, thinking that now that the liar had been exposed everything was ok between them. Mrs. Bustier also didn’t get the message yet and continued to ask Marinette for help. One day, after Marinette had once again told her no, Mrs. Bustier pulled her into the hallway. She was lecturing Marinette on the importance of lending a helping hand and being there for those in need. She was so wrapped up in her little monologue that she didn’t notice Mrs. Martin standing behind her. Mrs. Martin had been coming back to her office after lunch when she stumbled upon this scene. To say she was angry was an understatement. She immediately brought Mrs. Bustier to Mr. Damocles, who happened to be meeting with the school board at the time. It didn’t take long for them all to decide that Mrs. Bustier wasn’t going to learn and it was time to let her go. Mrs. Bustier was fired that same day. Marinette’s new teacher was very nice and never asked to much of her. She also didn’t put up with Lila’s lies and quickly revealed her as a liar to Mr. Damocles which resulted in Lila being expelled because of the magnitude of some of her lies. Marinette continued getting better at telling people no, thanks to the support of her parents and Mrs. Martin. And Marinette’s life was all the better for it.

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Preview/Chapter 1

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Master list

“Looking good tonight Candy.” 

You rolled your eyes, frowning.

“Thanks Dave.”

Having your manager check you out every time you clocked in was one of the less fun parts of your job.  

You didn’t clock in to make any kind of hourly pay, and your real name was definitely not Candy. As a dancer at a gentleman's club you made your money on a pole and in private lap dance rooms, but it’s whatever pays the bills, and as a college student being able to make over a thousand dollars a week working just two nights was worth it. 

After checking in, you went back to the dressing room to check your makeup and outfit one last time and grab your money bag before heading back out to get your night started.  

Saturday nights used to not be your favorite, but they had been for a few months now because of one customer. The first night you met him, his friends had dragged him in after getting dumped to cheer him up. When you sat down with the nine of them you already knew it would be a good night, judging by the *quite* expensive VIP booth they’d bought. 

Your first impression of him wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, having met plenty of relatively good looking guys while working at the club and being quite used to groups like them doing birthdays or bachelor parties.

They were a fun group, and you found yourself actually having fun as they bought you rounds of drinks and perched you on their newly single friends lap. 

That night his friends bought him a private room with you, and he’d been back to see you again every Saturday night since.  

Baekhyun always arrived pretty early in the evening so you sat yourself down at the bar and made yourself look busy while you waited for him to show up. Tonight you were wearing a matching lace lingerie set along with a new pair of clear heels, and your hair straight down your back. With your nails done and your favorite perfume on to top it all off, you felt sexy as hell. On weeknights you didn’t try as hard, but on days he would be there you always made sure to put in a little extra effort to look as nice as possible. You told yourself it was just because he payed you so much, so you wanted to look your best. But you’d have been lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you wanted to impress him. Baekhyun, especially compared to other customers, was quite attractive. Having him fawn over you and compliment you always made you feel good. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a “hey” and turn around to see Baekhyun grinning back at you. 

“Hi Baekhyun” you smile back, getting up and giving him a small hug. 

“Hi Candy.”

Standing in 8 inch stripper heels you’re slightly taller than Baekhyun, and you find his usual glasses + hoodie + cargo pants combo endearing. Despite being somewhere around 30 and therefore significantly older than you, you can’t help but find him cute, adorable even. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, already knowing your answer.

“Of course, you know what I like” you say, giving him smirk and running one perfectly manicured hand over his shoulder, and down his toned chest.

The whole time you touched him his eyes were fixated on yours, looking at you with an intensity you weren’t used to, something you’d noticed was unique to him compared to the other men you met there.

“Your outfit tonight it.. um..” he says, eyes now looking you up and down, almost drooling. “ I like it.” 

 It was the same thing every time he’d come see you. He’d buy two beers, one for him and one for you, and shorty after pay you $800 for an hour together in a private dance room. For any other guy it would be $1000, but he didn’t need to know that.

You made your way up the stairs towards the area of the club with the private dance rooms hand in hand, leading him behind you to give him the best view.

“Do you want me to dance for you today or do you just wanna talk?” You asked as you entered the room and took your top off, standing in front of him as he sat down on the couch. Usually you would dance for him for a few songs and spend the rest of the time sitting on his lap listening to him talk about whatever it might be that week but some days he just wanted your company and nothing more. 

“Just for this song, I really like this song.” He said looking up at you with big eyes. So, you got to work doing your usual thing.

Getting into the rhythm of the music, you started swaying your body and slowly leaning towards him.

This time both of your hands find purchase on his chest and you move your body in a wave, giving him the full close up view of your bare chest.

As you lean back up you notice he’s slumped deeper into the couch and biting his lip, already thoroughly turned on.

“Holy shit” he muttered to himself, watching your nearly naked form sway in front of him.

The way he looked at your body was different too. Most men looked at you like nothing more than a piece of meat, something to use for pleasure and nothing more. Not that you minded, as long as you got your money, but the way Baekhyun looked at you as you danced for him was almost like someone observing a piece of art. 

You rotated your body until you’re facing away from him, and bent down slowly, the curves of your ass on full display to him, making it jiggle a bit before bending back up and lowering yourself onto his lap.

“God you’re something else, I wish I could touch you.”

You noticed him sit on his hands, because of course he wasn’t actually allowed to touch you, you were only allowed to touch him.

Once you were situated on his lap, you started moving your hips to the music, causing his head to hit the back of the couch.

As usual, you could feel his dick straining against his pants as you rolled your hips over him.

“Fuck” you heard him whisper.

You knew how much he was holding himself back by the way he was sweating and panting. He was one of the few costumers who had never once tried to touch you, not even a little bit. Which you appreciated, but right now you felt yourself almost wanting him to, knowing that his reaction alone would be worth it for you to see.

So against your better judgement, and with the hope of a little extra money, you turn around, knees straddling his right thigh, and put your arms on each of his shoulders. You play with the hair at the base of his neck and whisper in his ear

“If you really want to, you can touch.”

You almost feel bad when you notice his entire body go rigid beneath you, eyes wide at your words.

“Are you serious?”

“I mean nothing too invasive please, but I don’t mind if you want to caress me here and there” you respond with a smile.

“Okay”

You see him swallow as you lowered yourself onto his lap again, this time feeling his hands make contact with the bare skin of your waist.

As you let your hips move with the music, his hands slowly wandered across your waist, hips, and sides. His hands on you were surprisingly warm, soft, and gentle. Under his gaze and in his hands you felt like your body wasn’t just being used for shallow, fleeting pleasure. You felt appreciated.

And this was exactly the problem with Baekhyun.

You knew that you liked him too much, more than you should like one of your customers. You shouldn’t be thinking about how soft and pretty his hands are as they make their way across the skin of your thighs.

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft.”

You smile, now facing him once again as you sit with your knees on either side of his leg. You feel his words in the pit of your stomach and your hands caress his shoulders and chest, only now with his hands gently placed on your hips.

A few body rolls later and the song was over, so you shifted your weight onto one of his legs, sitting down on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and leaning into the couch.

“You’re gonna completely ruin me one day” he breathed out, making you giggle. “Why’d you let me do that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I could tell how much you held back and most guys try to touch me anyway so..”

“They just do it anyway?” His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah well I tell them not to and usually it’s fine after that”

You could sense his discomfort with what you’d just said, looking genuinely agitated.

“Yeah well those guys aren’t worth your time no matter how much they’re paying” he muttered so quietly you almost didn’t hear.

“This is my job Baekhyun, there’s bad customers in every job” you respond timidly.

He turned to look you in the eyes again, this time more intensely due to the proximity of you sitting on his lap.

“Do you like working here?”

“Please don’t ask me that.”

“You know you don’t have to, I can take care of you.”

With the way his eyes bore into yours and he gripped your thigh, you knew he was serious. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted by his words.

Nonetheless you got up from his lap and sat next to him, bodies no longer touching.

“You know that’s not how this works Baekhyun.” You cross your arms over your bare chest, feeling like you needed to hide.

You look down, not wanting to look at him as you continue.

“It’s my job to make you feel good and give you something nice to look at but that’s all it is. My job. I’m sorry.”

He knew you were right. He knew because despite coming to see you every week for a few months now, he knew nothing about you. You wouldn’t tell him any details about your personal life, hell he didn’t even know your real name.

He knew he was stupid to have let himself become so completely fucked over a girl who wouldn’t even tell him her name.

“It’s okay, I understand, I’m sorry if that was too far”

You look at him again, giving him a soft smile.

“How was your week?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

You soon find yourself back on his lap as he starts talking to you about his week, but you couldn’t help feeling guilty. You could tell what Baekhyun felt for you was more than just sexual attraction, and yet he knew nothing about you. He’d asked you general things and you’d told him you were college student, which was true, but you’d lied about which college you attended. He asked about what you were studying and you’d lied about that too, quickly changing the topic back to him and his life.

Every time he tried to get to know the real you, you pushed him away, and you knew he could tell.

It fell silent for a moment, until Baekhyun spoke up.

“This is for touching you” he said as he dug in his pocket before pulling out three hundred dollar bills and putting them in the waistband of your thong.

He didn’t look at you as he gave you the money. It wasn’t until he was done that he grabbed your hand, and gave you another intense look.

“Please, can I please just know your name?” He asked.

With you sitting on his lap, faces close together you saw the desperation in his eyes. He’d spent a decent amount of time with you now and you knew how badly he wanted to know more about you, how much he wanted to be able to get to know the real you.

The way he looked up at you, with that look in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t tell him no.

You sighed.

“Okay. I’m y/n.”

~

Shorty after your hour together was up, Baekhyun went home and so did you. Counting your money was easy that night; just the eleven hundred dollar bills he’d given you. 

As you took your makeup off and got ready to finally sleep you couldn’t help but feel strange about Baekhyun knowing your real name. Despite how nice he smelled, how cute he was, and how kind, generous, and funny, and how you liked spending time with him more than any other customer, that’s still exactly what he was. A customer. Someone who walked into a club looking to pay hot girls in exchange for their attention. But at that point Baekhyun was your friend too. He’d been coming to see you for the whole summer, and you really did enjoy talking to him. 

Is it okay for him to actually get to know you? Is it okay for you to want him to? 

Next Chapter

A/N: Hello! This felt pretty short which is why it’s kind of a preview/first chapter but please tell me what you think :) and let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for the next chapter!

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

through the warning signs || h. styles

warnings: a couple of swears, mentions of covid

word count: 3.1k

summary: you first met harry on the set of dunkirk, but now you’re reunited on the set of his new film...

Films had always fascinated you. The endless possibilities of art you could create, from the cinematography to the mise en scène, even to the sound, had always blown your mind. So, even from an early age, you always knew you wanted to get into filmmaking somehow. You were perhaps the worst actor to ever grace the planet, so acting was never an option for you. But alas, you studied film studies in school and went to university for the very same thing. At first, you’d considered becoming a cinematographer, but you realised you could entwine your love of film production and fashion. So, you found yourself as a costume designer.

In 2014, your dearest friend, Louisa, had dragged you to see Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar. She had an unhealthy obsession with Timothée Chalamet at the time, and had made you watch every single film he’d been in - big role or small. So, while Louisa was busy being in love with Timothée Chalamet, you were busy nursing an adoration for Christopher Nolan films. And then, in 2016, you found yourself in Dunkerque, France, working alongside Mr Nolan himself.

As well as being incredibly interested in films, you were also somewhat of a history buff in school. So, working on a film like Dunkirk alongside names like Kenneth Branagh and Cillian Murphy, was one of the most surreal first days on the job. Or, more notably, Harry Styles. Though Louisa was then going through her Tom Hardy phase, she was once a massive One Direction fan. And, though you never bothered to learn every last fact that was public knowledge about them, you could certainly appreciate their music.

As the weeks went on, you began to slip into place more. The more time that passed, the more you knew this was the career for you. And, you knew it wasn’t very professional, but you developed somewhat of a liking towards the singer. He was nice to you. But, then again, he was nice to everybody. It was just in his nature. You weren’t even sure he knew your name...

And then filming wrapped and you never saw him again. The pair of you had never exchanged numbers or followed each other on social media. And that was the end of that. And, after a month or so, your little crush on Harry died away. And, even when you went to the premiere, you only got a couple of glances at him.

In the three years since you last saw him, you’d never forgotten about him. It wasn’t exactly an easy feat forgetting about Harry Styles. But he had definitely been pushed to the back of your mind. Plenty of things had managed to take the front seat since then. You’d won an Oscar for Best Costume Design for your work on Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Little Women at the beginning of 2020, which was completely insane (Louisa was still more amazed by the fact that you got to work with Timothée Chalamet). The award sat on your mantelpiece in your London flat beside a picture of Louisa and yourself.

However, more recently, you’d taken a place on the crew of Olivia Wilde’s new film: Don’t Worry, Darling. You’d worked on Booksmart with her and she simply adored you. Before production had even begun, you could already tell you were going to love working on this film. It was a psychological thriller set in the 50s - you were in love already. Not only that, but it was starring one of your good friends you’d made in the industry: Florence Pugh.

This all seemed great, until you were notified that Harry Styles would be taking the place of Shia LaBeouf to play ‘Jack’. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t let yourself be caught up by his unintentional charm once again. So, on the first day of filming, you turned up in your puffer jacket (despite it being filmed in California).

You had already worked with Olivia before filming on the costumes, or at least a large bulk of them. It was an odd sort of dynamic; she wanted you to take control simply due to your brilliant eye for fashion, especially vintage fashion, and you wanted her to take control as it was her film. In the end, you managed to create a cooperative working environment.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t stalling as you were fixing up Florence’s costume. Harry’s needed doing next and you didn’t exactly want to face him. You’d tried desperately to stay out of Harry’s sight. And, so far, you’d been successful. When it came to measuring, you’d kindly asked one of your assistants to measure him (and she was more than happy to do so). But all your clever sneaking around was about to go down the drain. “You all right, Y/N?” Flo asked, noticing your shaky hands and your incessant fiddling.

You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I think you’re good to go.”

She smiled, “Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too!” you grinned as you watched her jog away. She disappeared behind a couple of trailers. As you approached Harry, who was busy talking to a couple of other crew members, you tried to convince yourself that, if you kept your head down, there was no way Harry would attempt to make small talk as you fixed his costume. You’d have your mask on, so there was absolutely no way he’d recognise you. Besides, it had been four years since you filmed Dunkirk, he wouldn’t even remember you. As you neared Harry and one of the gaffers, you cleared your throat, “Do you mind if I steal Harry for a second?”

“Sure,” the gaffer nodded, turning to work on some of the lighting. Keeping your head down and your hands quick, you got to work on adjusting his tuxedo. Awkward was definitely an understatement. Or, it was for you, at least. In an odd sort of way, you were begging for him to make some sort of conversation to ease the sheer awkwardness, but you prayed he stayed silent at the same time. Alas, your prayers weren’t enough. “It’s Y/N, right?” his voice came, though slightly muffled by his mask, you made it out clearly.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, adjusting his cuffs and trying your very hardest not to make eye contact with him.

“Congratulations on your Oscar,” was what he said next. “It was for Little Women, right?”

That got you to look up at him. Had he actually remembered your name all of four years or had he just recognised you when you made your acceptance speech at the Oscars? Maybe Florence had just mentioned your Oscar win earlier in the year, and that was how he knew. “Yeah, it was,” you replied. “Congratulations on your album.”

“Cheers,” he said. It was a good album - both of his were. Louisa had forced you to listen to his entire discography whenever you drove her around. Not that you were exactly complaining, you enjoyed Harry’s music. And, just as the awkwardness was beginning to pour back into the atmosphere, he added, “It’s no Oscar, though.”

“It was a bloody good album, though. It was nominated for a Brit too, wasn’t it?” you asked, vaguely remembering Louisa scream in your ear that Fine Line had been nominated for Best Album, or something along those lines.

He nodded, “Well, yeah.”

And, just like that, the conversation fizzled out into uneasy silence. You wanted to kick yourself for being such a shit conversationalist; there’s people who would kill to have a chat with Harry Styles. Yet, here you were, complimenting an album you weren’t even sure you could name all the songs on. Thankfully, the sound of Olivia’s voice caught your attention, “Y/N!”

The two of you turned to see her approaching quickly. She was waving two samples of fabric in front of you, “Oh, hi, Harry. Good thing you’re here, actually. Which of these were you thinking of for his other suit?”

You took both from her, inspecting them closely. One was a brown and the other was a blue, slightly lighter than a navy. “Well, I thought both would work. I mean, it’s up to you, but I think the brown contrasts with Florence’s costume better,” you replied. “But then I’ve got this lovely tie set aside for the blue. So, really it’s your decision.”

She hummed, agreeing with what you said, “I see what you mean. We could always use the blue for a different scene?”

You shrugged, nodding, “Yeah, I mean, the brown will definitely work better with Florence’s costume for those couple of scenes we’re shooting in Palm Springs. But, like I said, the blue is very fifties.”

She smiled, “Brilliant. I’ll sort out the brown, then.”

Quickly, you said, “No, it’s okay. I’ll sort it out when I’m finished with Harry.”

She thanked you as she left. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off you as you worked away, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sorted the hem of his trousers. And, thank God for the mandatory masks, as he couldn’t help the smile that danced across his lips. Then, in no time at all, Harry was snapped out of his small trance at the sound of your voice, “Right, you’re good to go.”

“Cheers, Y/N,” he smiled slightly, watching as you walked off towards one of your assistants. Sighing softly to himself, he left to find Florence.

The two weeks the entire cast and crew had off due to somebody testing positive for covid was a lovely break for you. As well as constant fear that they’d just call Don’t Worry, Darling off completely and you’d be out of work again. And the relentless guilt you felt for having to stay at Florence’s for the two weeks with her boyfriend because you didn’t have your own house in America, and you couldn’t fly back and forth between England and America. And the nights where you cried into Florence’s arms as you missed your family from back home. And the nights where you couldn’t sleep because you began to overthink things like if you’d locked your front door or turned the oven off. But, other than that, it’d been a smooth run.

But now you were back and in Palm Springs. And the sun was out and you were longing for a cold shower. You found yourself stood in front of Harry once more, trying to decide which tie would work best with his brown suit. He’d followed you on Instagram since your first interaction since Dunkirk, which received an onslaught of ecstatic texts from Louisa. But that was as far as it had ever gone. None of your conversations progressed past his costumes or anything work-related. And, when you first turned up on set on the very first day of production, that was what you’d wanted. But now you had to surround yourself with him everyday, you longed for him to ask about something other than the job. You wanted to discuss favourite novels and guilty pleasures and pet peeves and bad habits and embarrassing childhood stories with him. All these little things you wanted him to know about you.

Your mind was wandering and it took you a moment to realise that you weren’t even thinking about which tie worked best anymore. Your head was full of swirling fantasies that you knew would never come to be.

Harry, however, didn’t notice your zoned out expression either. He was too busy trying to figure out whether you were single due to the shirt you were wearing, which hung much too large on your frame. And the feeling of knowing there was a possibility that you were living a happy life with somebody else was beginning to rip him up inside. He was trying to remember if you’d thanked a boyfriend in your acceptance speech at the Oscars, but that all seemed so long ago now - he couldn’t possibly remember. So, in spite of himself, he asked, “Missing your boyfriend, then?”

You looked up at him, your hands dropping down to your sides. “What?”

“Your boyfriend - are you missing him?” Harry repeated, a small smile on his face to make his tone sound slightly less bitter.

“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you replied, finally settling on a tie.

“You don’t? I just figured, you know, with the shirt...” he trailed off, prompting you to elaborate.

You chuckled awkwardly, “Right, of course. I only do it to make myself appear less single.”

He laughed, but it was mainly out of relief. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten about you from the set of his first movie, you just hadn’t been on his mind for the four years following. But then he’d turned up on the first day of filming, seen you laughing with Florence and Olivia, and everything just came rushing back to him. All of the pent up feelings and the nights pondering all of the what ifs and the maybes. “Well, you fooled me,” he smiled.

“Just my ingenious plans working, as usual,” you joked, earning a small laugh from Harry.

As you finished wrapping the tie around Harry’s shirt collar, you informed him you were finished. He thanked you and left to get his hair and makeup done. You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound of Florence’s voice behind you, “I’m pretty sure if he asks you about your love life, it means he likes you.”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, hitting Flo’s shoulder with the tie you opted not to use.

She laughed loudly, “You know I’m right!”

“He’s just making small talk.”

“No, Y/N, small talk is how nice the weather is, not ‘oh, are you single?’”

“Okay, firstly, he didn’t say that. Secondly, it’s California - it’s always nice weather,” you retorted. As much as you fought back, you quite liked the idea that Florence thought Harry liked you.

“You know what I mean!” she replied, grinning her infamous broad, cheeky smile. “Don’t even try and act like you wouldn’t mind if he liked you!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said sheepishly, a small smile gracing your features. As aforementioned - you were perhaps the worst actor to grace the planet.

“I knew it!” she grinned excitedly.

“Don’t you have hair to be done?” you chuckled, pushing her towards where she needed to go to get her hair styled for the shoot.

“This isn’t over, Y/N!” she called back as she slowly disappeared.

The following day, as you were patching up one of Chris Pine’s suits, Florence came and sat down opposite you. She had one of those devious smirks on her face and you knew that couldn’t mean anything good. You placed your needle down, staring expectantly at her. “How can I be of assistance?” you asked skeptically.

“Well, as your dear friend, I thought it was my duty to report back to you. So, I’d like to tell you that our good pal Harry was asking about you,” she grinned.

You sighed, “Was he? And what was he asking?”

“Something about if you have any allergies,” she replied.

“Wow,” you laughed, “must be hopelessly in love with me then.”

“No, listen. He asked about your allergies and then he asked what kind of food you liked. So, my guess is he’s going to ask you to dinner.”

“We’ll see,” you said, offering her a smile in the hopes that she’d just drop it.

“Indeed we will. I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N,” she grinned, pinching your cheeks as she got up. “Love you!”

You chuckled, “Love you too!”

And, just like that, you were left to your own devices. Though your flow had been disrupted, you got back to stitching up Chris’ suit, which had a minor tear in the lapel. Working on a film set, you were used to being interrupted; people would come and go, asking you all sorts of questions. You always found it pretty easy to get back into your rhythm. However, when Harry came and took the place of Florence, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to get back into your desired flow easily. “Oh, hey, Harry,” you greeted. “Are you okay?”

He nodded quickly. He wasn’t hiding his nervous shifting very well - despite how good of an actor he may be. He fiddled with his fingers, which lay in his lap. They were lacking the many, expensive-looking rings they usually adorned. He was out of costume, instead dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair wasn’t slicked back and full of gel like it usually was on set. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay,” he said, rather unconvincingly.

His eyes followed your fingers as they gripped the little needle, weaving it in and out of one of suit’s lapels. Another wave of awkwardness washed over the pair. But, for once, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. You weren’t the one who came over to start the conversation. “Are you busy tonight?” he suddenly asked, his voice almost shaky.

“Uh, no. Not if I can get this lapel finished,” you replied, your tone joking. Your eyes were still trained on your needle, but your mind was most definitely concentrating on every last syllable that fell from Harry’s lips.

He let out an awkward, breathy chuckle, “Right. Um, well, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab something to eat?”

You couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled at the corner of your lips, “I’d love to.”

This was what you felt you’d been waiting for for a good four years. And, thank God, Florence had warned you that she suspected Harry was thinking of asking you out, otherwise you weren’t sure you’d be able to get out any comprehensible words. “Great,” he grinned, whatever nervousness that had been racing through his veins seemed to slowly drown away. “I’ll see you tonight, then. At 6?”

You nodded, overwhelmed with serotonin, trying to suppress the urge to let out a loud squeal. You knew you’d get back to Florence’s, share a glass of predate wine with her and dance about happily in her kitchen. All of these marvellous emotions swept through your body, which was abuzz with electric euphoria. And yet, all you replied was, with a small smile, “At 6.”

part two.

[tiny-crecher]

Unus Annus Secrets

Here I’m going to try and explain all of the Unus Annus codes + possible lore. If I have forgotten some information or if one of these links doesnt work/is incorrect please let me know. This post will be updated when needed. 

This is LONG, so be prepared. 

At first, these codes were only in videos edited by NerdFiction, but as of October 26th this is no longer true. (The possible exception to this would be the first video I’ve listed, as the editor is not in the description). 

1) 5 Weird Apps That Predicted Our Death

 “Here at Unus Annus the end is nigh... when the timer hits zero we will cease to exist. is it fate? is this a simulation? Can anybody hear me? My name is.... [FILE REDACTED]”. Timestamp - 0:14

2) Ethan Roasts Mark for 15 Minutes Straight

 “and in the comments, you will read the words you soon will see are wise controlling pawns who type our deed ‘That is Discord, not FaceTime’” Timestamp - 0:40

“within this truth a question stands, is the pee sauna ever close?”. [“Pee Sauna”was uploaded about a week afterwards] Timestamp - 0:40

3) Our Fans Try to Scare Us with Their Homemade Creepypasta

“What will happen if the clock stops”

“Could I find a way to keep it going?”

“If neither hand is right, what deals are left?”

“Who is the master of the clock?” (all around 8:44)

4) Learning to Cry on Command to Increase Our Youtube Views

“remember the key, the incompletion of a logolept’s corrective action” [a logolept is “a person who takes a keen interest in words”. Marcus is likely referring to himself.] Timestamp - 1:49

“the long wait ends with twenty four more for a path of destiny chosen before”[“Pee Sauna” was uploaded the day after] (closely after the last code)

5) Becoming One With the Horse

“They heard me, I knew it could work!” (timestamp currently unknown; to be updated)

Around this time, NerdFiction’s Twitter bio said, among his normal information, that he was “trying to stop the Unus Annus clock from within.” 

6) Preparing a 5-Star Meal for Our Youtube Famous Dogs

“I couldn’t stop it. Will I die with the machine?” (Timestamp - 21:33)

7) Does This Magnetic Skincare Routine Really Work?

“freed or so I thought. Another layer, but still the clock.” (Timestamp - 9:45)

“The Beginning of The End”. 

On July 26th, at 12pm PST, a video was uploaded to Unus Annus titled “Traversing the Desert to Find Our Inner Truth”. This video was only up for a few minutes before it mysteriously disappeared, only to be replaced by another video, titled “The Beginning of The End”. At first glance, the videos were identical, save for different titles and slightly different descriptions. However, the second video was slightly longer than the first, and upon further inspection, many came to realize that the audio was slightly different as well. You can listen to both audios here. There was a rumor going around that the captions of “Traversing the Desert to Find Our Inner Truth” said something about looking out for Norbert Moses, but no one has been able to confirm this to my knowledge. 

8) Puberty Simulator

“Happy birthday to the beast or to the body that once housed me. A transfer made for pity’s sake. Tricked into the machine as he had my cake.” (Timestamp - 14:36) [The same code was found a week earlier in “Mark and Ethan Shave Chica”, uploaded on NerdFiction’s birthday. The original code was very difficult to make out, so it is likely he inserted it into a different video to make it easier for us.]

On the same day, NerdFiction’s Twitter bio read “Everyone must leave something behind when he dies. Memento Memoriae” (remember memory)

In “The Koala Challenge: TikTok’s Intimate Couple’s Trend” one of the clips is edited to look like a TikTok video, with the user ron_somberest being used. Ron_Somberest is an anagram for Norbert Moses. This TikTok account does actually exist, and the icon is a zoomed in and brightened photo of Norbert Moses’s face with the eyes scribbled out. 

Around this time NerdFiction’s Twitter bio read “’It’s not dark, never was’ - Ron Bestsmore”. Ron Bestsmore is also an anagram for Norbert Moses. It is possible that the “dark” being referred to here is Darkiplier, and NerdFiction is trying to imply that Dark is not involved in this. 

About a week after the koala challenge video was “How to Start a Fire (except don’t)”, which featured an appearance from Unus. NerdFiction’s Twitter bio read “In the end, who is your savior and what are they saving you from?” 

Things were quiet for about a month. NerdFiction eventually erased the cryptic message from his Twitter bio. 

9) Learning To Use The Force

“wait no something is wrong. he knows!” (Timestamp - 10:45) [translated from small coded words hidden in the montage]

“STOPTHISWHATAREYOUDOINGO3″ (Timestamp - 11:40)

“it worked” (a spectrogram, derived from a sound played at the end of the video)

10) Momiplier Tells Us True Scary Stories from Korea

“As I was, as I’ve done to him now. Am I right to decide his fate?” (Timestamp - 5:44) [Right before this, Mark’s mom is talking about a nightmare she had where she was paralyzed, possibly implying that nerdfiction was once paralyzed and has now paralyzed someone else (pointed out by @/minervas-sandwich)]

11) Cryptid Olympics

“I thought you’d join us but, hey, that was just a theory, Memento Doctrina” (remember learning). (Timestamp - 5:49) [The code references the Game Theorists channel, which had uploaded a video about Unus Annus earlier that same day.]

- From here on, every video has had some sort of code -

12) Edward Pumpkin Hands - This was the first coded video not edited by NerdFiction, instead being edited by Diceroll.

At various points throughout the video small parts of a url are seen. When pieced together, this link is made: https://imgur.com/a/tyDewJ7. It leads to a photo of the Unus Annus hourglass. When edited, a series of binary text is shown, which translates to “zhIaNL2“. Inputting this into another imgur link gets you to https://imgur.com/a/zhIaNL2. After editing the photo (although you can still sorta see it without doing so), a cipher of a custom alphabet is shown (I posted an edited photo here).

At 5:01 in the video a weird image is shown for only a moment (a slightly brightened version of it here). Nobody knows what the hell it means.

At the same time, there is a reversed audio of someone (presumably Ethan; it sounds like him) saying “we did that”. For context, the sentence said right before that line was “if one of us dies, the other has to take over for the remainder of time”. This is possibly implying that someone, or multiple someones, has/have died and been replaced.

13) Blood Bath - edited by rad_r

“Everything’s fine”

The Unus Annus timer is shown. It counts down for three seconds before counting up for one second. Heavy breathing can be heard over it. It is then cancelled by an error message

“ITS NOT FINE HELP” (this and the previous two messages are hidden at 5:57)

“you’ve done it now.. a machine observed. there is no returning.. a machine unnerved. there is only.. a machine unconqured.” (right at the end of the video, before the timer)

14) The Unus Annus Annual Costume Contest - edited by nerdfiction

“I saw just one door in a hall filled with many, I locked your gate but they were too late to join me. He was re-placed, she was undone, I had escaped yet he had still won”. (Timestamp - 2:05) [possibly talking about diceroll and rad_r. The pronouns would line up, and it would make sense with those two now having edited coded videos.]

15) Ethan Turns Mark Into a Werewolf - edited by rad_r

“futility or farewell? only time time time.” (timestamp - 7:17)

16) Ethan Kidnapped Mark - edited by Diceroll

Two spectrograms are shown in this video; one at 14:08 and one at 17:38. Combined, they create an imgur link: https://imgur.com/a/gKB62sv

The imgur link shows a photo of a key. On the key is a code translating to “stop the clock”

At the end of the video before the timer is a set of text in the custom alphabet previously mentioned. Translated and decoded it translates to “I can hear it coming theres not much time left the ones that tried to stop it have had their hearts cleft it is now your turn to put this loop to rest take us out of here and show us a new nest”

17) Being Brutally Honest with Each Other

“It is alive, no longer living / misunderstood beats unforgiving / escaped that fate but lost the tale / does a hope yet remain or just one final nail?” (Timestamp - 26:03)

18) Recreating Every Single Unus Annus Video

“The bottom of the spiral” (timestamp - 10:55)

19) “All Our Video Ideas That Never Happened”

“Be careful for what you wish for” (taken from two different codes)

*20) The Unus Annus Last Supper + Who’s Cutting Onions In Here??? - both edited by rad_r

“We’ve asked... we’ve tried... is there no way to stop the end? To those who aren’t deterred: how much will you sacrifice to ascend?” (A quotefall puzzle, split into 2 parts)

21) Everything’s Legal If You’re Dead

Norbert Moses is mentioned at 10:50. Look closely, his name is only there for a couple frames.

These have been the only codes I’m aware of as of 11/11/20. 

(be sure to check out @gemstone6’s list as well!!)

Link to my Unus Annus theory

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Same Old Mistakes

Summary: Lee Bodecker is jealous of your new relationship with Arvin Russell

Pairings: Modern Day! Arvin Russell x reader, Modern Day! Lee Bodecker x reader

Warnings: manipulation, age gap (reader is in college 20), cheating , dub con, unprotected sex, degrading language, dark themes, please don’t read if you’re not 18+ or these warnings make you uncomfortable.

Author’s note: this is kind of a sequel to my other one shot Party Favors from my old account. You don’t really have to read it though to understand. Anyways, someone commented the reader should fuck Arvin & well I put my own twist on it because I love Lee way too much.

It’s been a month since Sheriff Bodecker was called to stop your party. You wished you could erase the memories from the night. Lee always had a soft spot for you but you took his kindness for granted.

In exchange for not getting turned in for your noise complaint, you had to get on your knees for the Sheriff. To think the sheriff would even care about you or even your pleasures was a silly idea. He cares about one thing and one thing only. Controlling everyone in the town. But, that was a month ago. You stayed clear from misconduct, you didn’t want to see his face ever again.

Now, you were somewhat happy. You were finally interested in someone around your age. His name was Arvin Russell. Everyday after class, he waited for you in his old beat up truck. Arvin didn’t go to college but you didn’t mind. He had small jobs here and there where he would even save some of his money to buy you small things. It was his way of showing that he really liked you. Maybe, you could see yourself falling for him...

“Got your s’ favorite” Arvin announced in his Southern accent that you loved. He had a cheeky smile as he took out a sandwich from his metal lunchbox. A new meal was always waiting for you after class.

You smiled brightly, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Arvin pouted softly as he pointed to his lips and you chuckled giving him a kiss on the lips which he rightly deserved.

“You’re the best, Arvin!” you pressed another kiss to his nose. A tint of red started to cover his ears. He truly was one of the sweetest boys you met in town. You cherished it.

But, he wasn’t just sweet. He also knew how to woo a girl in bed...

“Holy fuck—!” You moaned, your eyes rolled back as Arvin pounded into you. The headboard colliding with the wall with every thrust. Arvin had a smirk plastered on his face. This was his favorite thing to do. Pleasure you.

“atta girl... doing so good for me...” he mumbled against your lips, his thumb swiping against your clit as his hips rutted into you. He grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders creating a even more pleasurable experience.

“You close, my pretty girl—? Gunna cum for me, yeah?” Your hands pulled onto his locks and your mouth widened without a sound signaling your release as Arvin grunted heavily. With a few more thrusts, he emptied himself in the condom and pulled out of you, collapsing onto the bed. The condom thrown into the nearby trash can.

He pulled your sweaty body onto his, he watched as you panted against his chest. His heart swelled from the effect you had on him.

“I want you to be my girl for real...” he finally whispered softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. You looked up at him.

“Like— your girlfriend?”

“Mmhm—“ he mumbled and you smiled brightly, leaning forward and kissing him deeply.

As Lee Bodecker parked his car at the gas station, he saw a couple in a car not too far from where he was. The two shadows talked for a moment before they kissed each other on the nose. He couldn’t quite make out who they were but he figured it was young love. He rolled his eyes, until he noticed something. His eyes squinted and he moved his seat up, until his belly pressed against the wheel. It was you.

“Here, get yourself something. We still got a few hours left.” Arvin insisted handing you money.

“Baby... I can buy it on my own, it’s fine” you protested pushing his hand away slightly. He shook his head.

“Please. I don’t mind... how about you order us two hot sandwiches, so then you don’t feel so bad” you sighed heavily, looking down at the money in his hand.

“Fine but this is the last time, babe.”

Arvin hushed you softly, settling the money in your palm. He kissed the bridge of your nose and then your lips. The act itself warming you from within.

“I gotta pump the gas and fill the tires which is going take a while. See you in 15. Now go on.” You nodded and settled out of the car, walking into the convenient store.

You looked around the store. Arvin did say you would be on the road for some time. Everything looked good but you really didn’t want to waste all of his money. As you continued to look, the store doorbell rung signaling a new costumer had arrived.

Lee Bodecker walked into the store with a new sense of confidence. The girl who had been ignoring him for weeks had finally crossed paths with him again. He tilted his hat at the store manager before he walked towards you.

He found himself sliding into the same aisle where you were in. You were two busy bending down and looking at different flavors of chips to notice his presence behind you. His eyes roamed your backside and he bit his lip at the curve of your ass. If only he could push himself right against it.

You turned around to head into the next aisle but you collided into a taller figure. The chips in your hand fell onto the ground. You quickly scrambled to pick them up but a hand stopped you.

“No need Y/N... the pleasure is mine” you could recognize the accent from miles away.

Your heart practically stopped as you stood up to meet eyes with Lee who casually winked at you. That was the problem with the sheriff. He sweet talked you, then used you, and then did it all over again.

“I haven’t seen you in forever. Seems like you are doing everything in your power to not get into trouble...” he chuckled darkly, his eyes stayed on yours.

“Uh- yeah. I guess you can say that. Trouble is just not my thing anymore” you shrugged, looking around the store trying your best to ignore him.

Other customers continued to shop. They didn’t mind the presence of the sheriff.

“I bet.” Lee continued.

“You know... we never talked about that night between us.” You stopped in your tracks as Lee said those words. Memories from a month ago rushing back.

“Shit, you move on quick. Already sucking another man’s cock, huh?” He bended slightly to whisper in your ear just enough for you to hear. His lips grazed against your ear ever so slightly which made you shudder.

You quickly stepped away from him. Your relationship with Arvin was fairly new. He couldn’t have possibly known.

“What are you talking about?!”

“I saw you and Arvin in the car just now” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Congratulations... but he’s uh- a handful” Lee joked, his jaw clenching. You turned on your heel but Lee grabbed your arm tightly. Almost to the point of a potential bruise.

“Lee, stop. You’re hurting me...” you sneered through your teeth. He looked around the store before he grabbed you to the back and pulled you into the store’s bathroom, quickly locking the two of you in there.

“Lee-! You can’t just-! I have to go to back to Arvin!” You pushed his slightly protruding belly, trying to make your way to the door but he pulled you back.

“First off, it’s sheriff to you now. And second of all you don’t leave until I’m done talking to you. Or we can have a repeat from the party. You hear me?” He threatened, his eyes much darker from when he first greeted you.

You gulped lightly, throwing your hands to the side. Protesting wouldn’t get you anywhere. Just let him talk and you’ll be within Arvin’s arms in a few.

“Did you tell him about us?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“What? No. Why would I do that?” Lee laughed softly, taking off his sheriff’s hat and running his fingers through his hands.

There was nothing to tell Arvin. But, Lee thought otherwise. He pushed you back against the wall, as you stared up at him.

“Because if I was him, I would want to know that my girl goes around sucking the sheriff’s dick and then begs him to fuck her”

“T-that was one time... and it was the p-past...” his words hit you one after the other. He was shaming you for an act he manipulated you into doing. Tears started to prickle at the corner of your eyes.

You were a good person. You deserved Arvin. Lee just loved playing the role of the knight in shining armor who pretended to fix your bad behavior every single time.

“Just the past” he repeated with an uncertainty in his voice. His thumb pressed against your lips like old times but you turned your head.

He rolled his eyes at your actions.

“You were such a bad girl. But, who always left you off with a warning? Hmmm? Any other sheriff would have thrown you in the back of the cop car, while you wait for mommy and daddy to pick you up!”

His hands roamed your body as he continued to speak.

“You avoided me for a whole month because you knew you wanted me and you were afraid” he sighed heavily, glaring at you.

Maybe. He was right. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet at least.

“Arvin... really, Y/N?” Lee sighed, pushing away from you in disbelief.

“I like him, Sheriff. He’s a good person. He treats me right. He actually likes me and takes care of me!” You pleaded as your eyes followed him as he paced along the small bathroom.

A tear slipped against your cheek. The doorknob was so close, you could make a run if you were fast enough.

“Do you love him?” He questioned, a hint of jealousy present in his tone.

“I-I don’t know...” Lee turned around and placed himself back on you.

“I can make you feel so much better than he can...” his nose pressed against your neck, as his hands grabbed your waist.

The attraction you had for Lee was still here. It almost made you feel sick inside. If he really cared for you, he wouldn’t do this. But, his words were messing with you. A voice in your head even tried to convince you to listen to him.

“Y/N, let me show what I should have done on the night of the Halloween party” his lips ghosted over yours and pressed onto you softly. He deepened the kiss and you allowed it at first.

Lee Bodecker was finally kissing you. Something you craved for the longest. But, it felt wrong. You struggled and pushed him away.

“Stop—!” You were out of breath as you took a beeline towards the door but Lee grabbed your hair and yanked you back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” He barked, and you winced in pain at his grip. When he heard your whine, he reluctantly let go but kept his arm around your body.

“I’m in a r-relationship, sheriff!” You stammered, scared to even look him in the eyes. Lee tilted your chin up, his eyes now softer. He had to think of his next actions carefully.

He was playing his favorite game on you.

“God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I got carried away” his arms cradled you in his embrace. His lips kissed your temple. His manners switched instantly. He knew playing the role of the bad wolf wouldn’t win you over.

“I care for you so much, darlin’ and Arvin... he’s not the one for you. He’s done a lot of bad things” Lee said softly, his thumb wiped your tears and cupped your face. If you were going to believe anything, you’d believe Lee & his job.

You raised an eyebrow. Arvin never expressed his wrongdoings. Yeah, he beat up a few bullies from school but they deserved it. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so uncomfortable in Lee’s embrace. Lee noticed this as your posture softened.

This was his chance.

“Really? Like what?”

“Oh, darlin’ if I tell ya— you’ll be scared of the poor boy. I don’t want that.” He informed, his lips pressed against your forehead again.

He was reeling you in with every word. This time you actually felt butterflies in your stomach.

If Arvin was a bad man, as the sheriff explained, then maybe Lee was actually protecting you.

“Please, sheriff... Please, tell me—” His eyes widened at your pleas. Something in him awakened. His cock stirred in his pants, a hard on soon to form. You sounded like an angel to him. He wished you would beg some more.

“You really wanna know—“ he teased, his hands falling to your sides, down your back, and right before your ass. You nodded, pushing into him some more. He bit his lip, his cock straining against his trousers.

“Well, he’s good with his Luger pistol, I’ll tell you that—“ he half joked. Lee tested the waters and suddenly put his hands on your ass. To his surprise, you didn’t move away. It’s not like you didn’t feel his hands either. You were just too busy, caught up in wanting to know more. But, it also did feel good, which you didn’t dare to admit.

He wanted to just bend you over the bathroom sink and have his way already. Just a few more lines and he’d be there.

“Remember that pastor in town who passed away a while ago—“

You nodded recollecting the only town’s gossip. You never went to church, but you remembered hearing the death on the television. It was one of the only major events that happened in Knockemstiff. Lee’s hands squeezed your ass softly and then wandered up your shirt.

“W-what does the pastor have to with a-anything?” You mumbled, holding in your moans at Lee’s actions. His hands cupped your covered breasts and began to grope them. In one swift movement, your bra was off and Lee was pinching your nipples. You gasped, arching yourself towards him.

“Shhh... getting to the best part. Just listen.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses against your neck and you finally moaned. Victory. Lee even started to get carried away and grinded against you.

You knew how wrong this was. It was overwhelming. If Arvin ever found out what was taking place, he’d leave you. This had to stay a secret.

“You’re taking too long!” you whined, feeling the sheriff’s hands and body engulf you. Although it was turning you on, you had to get back to Arvin.

“What did I just say? Don’t rush me” he bellowed, as he shoved two fingers in your mouth. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. He’s done this before at the night of the party. You played along with him and swirled your tongue around his digits.

You just needed to know what Arvin did. You had to see if he was worth it. But, you were surely testing Lee’s patience. He needed your pussy now.

“Turns out your precious boyfriend was a part of the murder...” he popped his fingers out your mouth, already undoing your jeans and pushing them down. He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed your clit with his soaked fingers. You bit your lip, throwing your head back and Lee chuckled at your body’s response. He turned your body around, the two of you now looking into the mirror.

“What?”

“Your little boyfriend killed the pastor.” Lee’s eyes studied yours as they widened through mirror. He nodded, moving your hair away from your neck. His fingers danced against the skin, goosebumps forming.

“T-that can’t be true-“ you murmured, as Lee began to place sloppy wet kisses over your exposed skin.

Arvin Russell was a good man. If he killed someone, there had to be a good reason.

One thing Lee was good at was creating his own version of the truth.

Your thoughts were clouded from Lee’s actions. It was all too much, but you couldn’t push away from Lee even if you wanted to.

“Well, start believing darlin’— you need a real man. Someone who is gunna take care of ya— That boy just gunna mess with your damn head...” The next thing you heard was the sound of the sheriff’s belt being unbuckled and his pants dropping. You sucked in a breath, already knowing what would happen next. There was no need to turn around.

“You’re not gunna run away now, are you?” He teased, as his cock ran through your folds, collecting your wetness. You gasped lightly biting down on your lip, shaking your head.

“That’s a good girl. Now, hold on, sheriff’s gunna make you feel real good.” He smirked motioning you to hold onto the sink as he slowly entered you. Your hands tightened around the sink as you moaned at how thick he was.

“Fuck!” You both announced as Lee fully bottomed out holding onto your hips. His thrusts quickly falling into a steady pace, as he pulled your hair back.

“So tight and wet-! Whose this pussy belong to huh?” His hand fell onto your right cheek, and then your left, until it made a type of red shade. It was the right amount of pain and pleasure.

You wanted to say his name but your mind kept drifting to Arvin. He was probably worried sick. 15 minutes definitely had already passed.

Lee scoffed as if he somehow could read your thoughts. His thrusts became deeper and rougher, his hand wrapping around your throat.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!” Lee spat, his voice was deeper, almost animalistic.

“My cock is in this dirty cunt—! Not him!” Before you could reply he slapped your ass with a stronger force.

“It belongs to you!” you whimpered, tears falling from your eyes. He groaned, his lips sucking and licking against your neck. He was close but he wanted you to cum with him. His fingers once again giving your clit attention which was a little too harsh.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, slowly but surely the only one on your mind was Lee and how good his cock felt around you.

“God, I’m going to make you my little whore. Your pretty face and cunt stuffed with my cock whenever I like, say yes” He grunted, his fingers digging into your hips and to his surprise you wiggled your ass against him. Even clenched around him. You were too lost in the ecstasy. He’s got you now.

“Yes—! Yes, I’ll be your whore!” you practically begged, humiliated by your words but it felt too good.

“Going to fill this cunt up now— and tomorrow and the day after that. You’ll love it.“ he grunted through his teeth.

“Please—!” You moaned, the only sounds consisted of heavy panting and his cock pounding in and out of you. The mirror already fogged.

“Cum with me!” He groaned, his final thrust helping you reach your orgasm. Moments later, Lee was stilling inside you and painting your walls which felt like forever, some of his cum seeping down your thighs.

He leaned over and wiped down the mirror. Your appearance was much messier from when you got there. Tear stained cheeks, make up ruined, & messy hair. You looked horrible but to Lee you looked like a doll. The sight already making his cock hard again.

He turned you around and lifted you up on the sink. “Mine” he observed, the coldness from the sink made you wince. Lee propped your mouth open and spat inside.

“Swallow.” And you gladly did as he pulled you into a forceful kiss, teeth and tongue clashing. His hands played with your breasts as the two of you moaned in pleasure.

He officially ruined you... and claimed you.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked one final time as he broke the sloppy kiss, saliva disconnecting from yours and his mouth.

“You... sheriff.” He nodded proudly, grabbing his boxers and trousers from the floor, and dressed himself. He picked up your panties and stuffed them into his pocket. You began to protest but he hushed you.

“You’ll get these back after you leave him... Don’t keep me waiting, honey.” Lee announced sternly, kissing you again and then leaving you alone in the bathroom.

Your propped yourself off the sink, your legs shakily going over to grab your jeans to put them on quickly. You splashed some water on your face but it didn’t change anything. Your hair covered your new forming hickies but it couldn’t take away your post sex look.

You nervously opened the bathroom door and walked back into the main area of the store. The store was quiet and the sheriff was already gone.

“Baby—! There you are—“ Arvin’s voice startled you from behind as he hurried over to you and pulled you into his arms. His hands cupping your face. “What happened?” He questioned, concern written all over his face.

“I was in the bathroom I-uh- have a really bad stomach ache. I don’t know. It came out of nowhere...” you mumbled, holding onto your stomach. Somehow trying to convince him that was the reason for your horrible appearance. He signed in relief, rocking your body back and forth.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home...”

Arvin was oblivious. Maybe, he was too in love and just believed anything that came out of your mouth. You were thankful for that. His hands interlaced with yours, as you both walked out the store, a limp in your step.

The sheriff’s car was parked in the front just like he said he would. He told you in the bathroom he would wait for you.

Most importantly, To leave Arvin.

The two of you locked eyes. The sight in front of him filled him up with jealousy. He saw the way you were limping. Proudly, caused by him. But here you were laced hand in hand with Arvin.

If you weren’t going to leave him, then Lee would take matters into his own hands. The sheriff stepped out his car, stopping you & Arvin. His hands on his hips as he tilted his hat up.

“Something wrong, Sheriff?” Arvin asked, holding you close.

“Just need to have a few words with Miss Y/N at my office. Something about her family came up. Won’t be too long and nothing for you to worry about. I’ll take her home to you— later” he drawled out the last words, his eyes filled with anger and his jaw clenched, you were in for it.

[consumeconstantly]

Lady Cross (first aid)

Summary: Somehow, Marinette always ends up biting off more than she can chew. It started off with a kid and a nasty gash on their knee. The sudden escalation to treating the new head of Gotham’s underworld? It can only be explained by the fact that she’s catnip for trouble. 

_____________________________________________

Marinette supposed she should have expected something like this to happen eventually.

Really, she patches up a few street kids and offers a meal and some resources and suddenly she's made a name for herself in the slums of Gotham. It’s not like she’s doing anything revolutionary. Well, okay, maybe she does cheat a little bit and uses her healing powers on a few of the tougher cases that really should have been out of her realm of expertise, but she’s living near the slums of Gotham for a reason. That reason being Marinette is just a little broke and can’t really afford to send everyone she comes across to the hospital, and the people who are injured certainly can’t. It’s not like she can leave them to die. That would be heartless.

When she stopped treating scrapes and cuts for kids on the streets as she came across them and instead found her apartment balcony frequented by families who needed her help, she couldn’t just say no. And so, more and more serious wounds started coming in. Kids brought their parents and friends. The parents and friends brought... well, if the police stopped by her apartment any time soon, she’s fairly certain they’d have a field day.

But again, it’s not like she’s going to turn these people into the police when they’ve come to her for help and have a small army of people who swear up and down that they’re good people and only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

Morality comes in such a variety of shades, who was she to judge? Ladybug and Marinette have both certainly had their fair share of mistakes that they’d gladly go back in time to rectify, and her hands weren’t clean of blood either. Sure, the Miraculous Cure may have brought people back, but their deaths were still on her. And Hawkmoth? Yeah, he’s alive now, but she hammered him into the pavement after dropping him from the top of the Eiffel tower, and she’s not going to pretend that she didn’t take a bit of morbid joy in that moment.

But back to the matter at hand. Which was, the notorious Red Hood—responsible for a coup amongst Gotham’s drug dealers and responsible for taking down a man whose morality truly vanished with the wind, Black Mask himself— was currently bleeding out on her second floor balcony, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the rail like he owned the place. 

“Lady Cross,” he inclined his head.

“Red Hood,” Marinette returned his greeting.

God, she really didn’t want to get involved with Red Hood. She wasn’t opposed to helping out street thugs and criminals, but Red Hood was a different league. He seemed to be a fairly decent guy, ensuring that kids weren’t dealt drugs and tried to keep them out of the circuit as much as possible. He took down plenty of worse criminals while he was at it. In fact, Marinette would go so far to say the Red Hood as one the good guys.

But the issue was, once she started treating people of a certain level, she’d be open game. And that didn’t seem very enticing to her. Not at all. Everyone knew that Red Hood had beef with the Bat Family for some reason or other, and also made enemies with almost every single rogue in Gotham, and a good number of enemies outside of it as well. Basically, Red Hood was a universal enemy of both the vigilantes and rogues. Someone she shouldn’t get involved with while she was trying to investigate the darkness surrounding Gotham whole running her online boutique and going to college at Gotham University.

Unfortunately, Tom and Sabine and her own stint as Ladybug taught her that she could never ignore someone in need. Marinette sighed and slid the mesh open, leading Red Hood to her living room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Real nice place you got here,” he said.

With the mask covering the whole of his face, Marinette had no facial expressions to figure out whether he was poking fun at her current living situation or not. His voice sounded genuine, but vocal emotions were easy to fake.

The apartment she was living in was not on the nice side of town. There were three bullet holes in the wall between her living room and bedroom that she just didn’t have time to patch up, some pretty nasty looking stains on the ceiling near her kitchen, and a huge, spray painted red cross on one of her walls, which was where her street name derived from. Her floor and coffee table were also in states of disarray; she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to clean up after working on two commissions and the last guest whose wounds were heavy enough to warrant several rolls of gauze, which was now half stuffed into a garbage can sitting next to rolls of fabric. Perhaps not the neatest or most sanitary situation, but she didn’t have time to clean up before every single one of her unexpected guests came in.

Look, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have time to fix things up real nice and neat. She’d only been living in the apartment for a month and a half, and most times, she barely spent any time in it other than to sleep, cram last minute projects for her design course, or to help heal people. Her living situation wasn’t the biggest of worries.

“Sit,” Marinette gestured to the one of the few pieces of furniture that she specifically bought for the apartment. She didn’t mind the stained, half broken, and extremely creaky couch the last owners left behind for the first week, but after she started bringing back her first… visitors, it seemed important that the couch was comfortable, sturdy, and most crucially, cleanable.

Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a tattered briefcase she thrifted a while back to keep all of her medical supplies in. Not the prettiest of things, but she tried not to keep expensive looking items in her apartment because she wasn’t a fan of getting mugged. The medicine she kept was already expensive enough, she didn’t need to attract everyone’s attention by owning one of those metal containers used in hospitals. Even though most of the people who dropped by her apartment were thankful to be treated, she had a few instances where people tried to steal things from her.

“What’s the damage, doc?” Red Hood’s voice came through rather tinny through his helmet. 

Marinette grimaced. The helmet must have awful air circulation. It looked like some sort of metal, and wet and metal never smelled good together. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Thought you were supposed to be some mystic healer who came from the far east.”

She paused and looked at the man, trying to judge whether he was racist as well as rude. “That’s rather insulting.” 

Red Hood shrugged. Marinette applauded the man for showing no outward sign of pain at that, even though there was a bullet embedded in his shoulder, and shrugging had to bite. “That’s what the word on the street is, though you sound French to me. Thought I’d come and check out who’s healing Gotham’s criminals. What’re you planning?”

“Sorry to foil your plans, but I’m not planning anything other than getting my college degree and not pissing off the people I live near.” She paused, flipping the lock on the briefcase upwards. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your go to healer from now on. You’re going to bring trouble my way.”

“Trouble? Me? Perish the thought.” His hand rested comfortably on the holister of his gun, ready to shoot if the girl pulled out a weapon from the briefcase. “We’ll talk about repeat appearances after I see how you do today.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Any wounds other than the obvious?”

“Just need the bullet out, and some stitches on the gash.” His shoulder and his abdomen, respectively. The gash looked nastier than the bullet; no shrapnel, but the cut on his stomach was jagged and wide. Not a normal, sharp blade. Probably needed a good cleaning.

She grabbed the tweezers, a sterilized needle, and medical thread. “That’s fine. Now are you going to undress, or am I going to have to cut your… costume… up?”

“Getting me naked already? We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Very funny, little Red Riding Hood. Now hop to it. I have class at 9 tomorrow and projects to finish tonight.” Somehow, trouble always seemed to find her when she least wanted it to. Not that she wanted to have trouble find her at all, but luck was a two way street, and for all that being Ladybug granted her good luck, she attracted criminals like catnip. 

“And here my informants had me thinking you were a regular Florence Nightingale.”

Marinette snorted. “They wish. I’ve got to ask who told you, because everybody should know the rules. You know, the ones where they don’t speak of my existence to their higher ups?”

“I’m not a rat,” Red Hood said, taking the top part of his outfit off. “And it’s not like you would have gone unnoticed anyways. You might be treating small timers now, but people catch on to healers pretty easy.”

“Because some gauze and sewing skills make me such a prime target.”

“No, your magic does.”

Shit. Marinette never told anyone she was using magic, and she rarely used it unless it was a dire situation. If she could patch them up using regular skills, she did. 

“Yeah right, if I had magic healing powers, do you think I’d be shoving my fingers into your shoulder to get a bullet out?”

“Not a very good liar, Lady Cross. You have this deer-caught-in-the-headlights look about you.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m also the deer that tramples through your windshield and takes a dump on the driver’s seat.” She maneuvered the tweezers a little rougher, hoping to make Red Hood hiss in pain. He just chuckled, amused. His high pain tolerance was getting rather annoying. She had half a mind to pour hydrogen peroxide over the wound just to see if that would make him show he was in pain, but thought better of it. Even though she didn’t like the man, she also didn’t want to piss him off. Or worse, have him come back and make her fix him up again. 

Threading the needle, she made quick, small stitches on his shoulder, sewing the bullet hole up, then put some petroleum jelly to speed up the healing process and reduce scarring. At least the wound was in a position that didn’t require a lot of gauze. She needed to go out and buy some more soon. She barely had enough to wrap around Red Hood’s waist.

“So, the magic,” Red Hood started. “Is it a conditional thing? Can you not use it all the time?”

“Again, I don’t have magic.” Marinette did have to use some antibacterial on the knife wound. He would need to take good care of that one to make sure it didn’t get infected. 

“So a meta, then. What are you doing in Gotham? Everybody knows Batman hates metas.”

“Not a meta, either, sorry to disappoint.” She tied off the gauze, then stood to wash her hands. “Make sure to clean the stomach wound well. Hope you have your tetanus shot, otherwise you should look into getting one.”

“Surprisingly, I’m inclined to believe you on the not-a-meta thing. Back to the first thing, then. Magic. Why don’t you show me the old razzle dazzle? Do you have to say one of those weird spells like the godmother in Cinderella? Bibbity bobbity boo?”

“You’re hilarious,” Marinette dead panned. 

“How’s this for magic? Bibbity bobbity boo, kindly leave. Shoo.” She followed his suggestion, made a show of jazz hands as well. “Pity I don’t use magic otherwise you’d be gone now. Anyways, it’s time for you to make your exit. It would be great if you didn't visit me again. Ever. Thanks.”

She ushered him out onto her patio, then slammed the sliding door. He saluted her before dropping off the side of the building. She could imagine the man under the helmet smirking.

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling in the Sheets

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, NSFW

Rating: M

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Spoiler Alert, there is smut. Be warned. It's there.

Also, I am no longer doing tags on posts. Since my list exceeds the tag limit. Please feel free to join the chat in place of the tag list.

Henry Cavill Master List

“How did you do it though?” Gliding the car into a free parking space, Henry glanced at Nell in the passenger's seat.

“How did I do what?” Eyeing him curiously, she tried to hide her gloating smile. She could be a terrible winner, even if she wasn't the winner, she had came ahead of Henry.

“You know what I mean, Nelly.”

He looked so silly, his new mustache curling when he laughed or smiled. Nell had to admit, if any man could wear the 'stache Henry did it well.

“Oh, you mean how did I suddenly leave your ass behind and finish nearly 50 positions ahead?” She laughed, crinkling her nose. “I told you, I've been working hard for this. Besides, you're too big. You move slower than I do. It's that simple. Maybe next year, you will finish ahead of me.”

“You're impossible.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Henry hurried to get out of the car and around to the other side, before Nell could open her own door. Nearly there, he frowned when she opened the door, stepping out of the Aston Martin. “You were supposed to let me open that.”

“I am supposed to do a lot of things that I do not.” Nell grabbed her hand bag. “I'll let you open the door, next time. You big dork.”

Henry was always the gentleman, even when Nell would rather rip his eyes out than speak to him in a civil manner. Not that she ever felt the former much, but on the rare occasion. Sometimes that's how things went for ex-lovers. The mid May air was growing cool, leaving a few goosebumps on Nell's exposed arms. She had expected to be back before now, which is why she'd left her sweater in the hotel.

“Well, happy late birthday. It was nice having dinner with your family. I've missed them.”

“They've missed you, too. I could tell that dad was happy you came along. He hasn't talked that much during a dinner since the last time you came over.” Henry smiled fondly. "I'm glad that you came, Nelly." Hands in his pockets, Henry sauntered along beside Nell. Approaching the main entrance, he held the door allowing her to enter. 

When he'd invited her for the weekend, he wasn't confident that she would come. Wrapped up in work, Nell didn't take too much time away from Dublin these days.

"It was a nice break from work." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nell bit her bottom lip. "I know that you are busy, but do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"I always have time to talk with you." Scanning the hotel lobby, Henry tried to find a spot for them to sit and chat privately. "Should we have a seat at the bar?"

"We could, but I would really like to change. Do you mind coming up with me? We can just talk in the room. It's probably more comfortable anyway."

"Is this about the wild boy?"

"Isn't it always?" 

Laughing, Henry pushed the call button for the elevator. Their son was truly something else. One day he would surely take over the world; Henry could see that coming from the day he was born.  To say Ivan was Henry's pride and joy would be a massive understatement. He lived for their son. This weekend having Ivan, and Nell, in Jersey had been fantastic. A short glimpse of what life could have been. The ding of the elevator brought Henry back from his brief fantasy.

He and Nell had split up several years ago, there wasn't much chance she would feel the same as he did. Lost in the thoughts of happy little family. Allowing Nell to step onto the elevator first, Henry stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him.

“So, Ivan has been doing well in school?” He may as well get this under way.

“Define doing well,” Nell snickered. “I get a call nearly every day from his teacher. The woman is impossible, but knowing our son, he isn't making it easy for her.”

“I was like that in school. Right up until the day I left.” Henry shrugged. The elevator gently bumping to a stop, he stepped forward to hold the door for Nell.

Muttering a thank you, Nell dug for her key card, leading the way down the hall. She loved this hotel, it was the only one she stayed in, if she could help it, while visiting the Island. A great view of the water on one side, the other dazzling with a fantastic look out into the city. The first time she'd ever been to Jersey, she had stayed in the hotel and fell in love with the charm. There were days when that felt like a life time ago.

Opening the door, Nell paused to allow Henry in. “Have a seat. Anywhere you'd like. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'm going to change.”

The hotel room was anything but a mess, minus the few sketch books that Nell had dropped on the bed. Always working. Henry took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, casually glancing at the colour coded notes and designs that Nell had in one of the open sketch books. Costumes. A few notes detailed leather armor and Viking era clothing. She'd done well for herself, since he'd met her. The same shy costume apprentice hiding out on set of The Tudors, was now helping drive forward the details of Vikings.

In the bathroom, Nell pulled off her dress. The fabric had became clingy after a while and she needed to be more relaxed. Running shorts and a tshirt would do the trick. Sighing at her reflection, she bit her bottom lip glancing down at her top. The worn coral Nike tshirt was her favourite, it was showing the love and wear in a few spots. Perhaps she should have picked something less frumpy? She was a busy, single mom she didn't have to look the part. Ah fuck, who cared. Henry certainly wouldn't.

He was here to discuss their son, not flirt with her until she gave in to that smile. Or got lost in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes – the left with the flecks of brown. His charm alone was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. Damn it, she needed to get over it. He had moved on. She needed to do the same.

Blowing out a breath, Nell reached for the door, pausing when she heard Henry talking. His tone told her that he was speaking to Ivan. Quietly slipping out of the bathroom, she smiled.

“Hold on, just a sec.” He pushed the screen of his phone, allowing the speaker to connect. “Alright, wild boy. Say goodnight to your mum.”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan's voice filled the room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ivan. Are you being a good boy?”

“Uh huh. I love you. Good night.”

“Good night, wild boy. I love you.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night, I love you. I'm going to be back soon, you go to bed and I will see you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Oh, dad, can Kal sleep in my room tonight?” Ivan was fond of the large black and white American Akita. Henry laughed.

“Of course he can. You and Kal go to bed, now.”

“Okay, bye.” A little too quickly, Ivan hung up the phone. Henry laughed at the eagerness, he would talk to his mother when he got back to the house. Making sure that Ivan and his dog had gone to bed as they were told, with no fuss.

"Can you believe he is growing this fast? My god where has that time gone?" Henry rubbed his hands against his face. His mustache and subtle stubble scratching his palms. 

"Time is a cruel mistress." Rubbing her hands on her shorts, Nell stood. "Drink? I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker." 

"Of course you do." Smirking, Henry shifted on the side of the bed. “I had a look at some of these designs, by the way. They're magnificent. My god, Nell, you are so talented.”

“You're saying that to be nice,”

Shaking his head, Henry accepted the glass, resting it on his knee. “No, I am saying it because its true. You are one of the most talented costumers that I had ever met. Are you enjoying the job?”

“I love it.” Nell smiled, leaning against the large wooden desk in the corner. “The work is great, the people are amazing, and Ivan is really enjoying it. I'm glad we went.”

“Good, that's good. He talks about it, a lot. He really seems to love being there. I'm glad. Once things settle, I am going to try and come visit. I kind of miss it, Dublin.”

“You should.” She smiled fighting the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. Henry was always busy. He'd make it to Dublin, when Hell froze over. “So, how is work coming on this new character.”

“I can't say much, but I can say that I will be happy when I can shave.” He rubbed the mustache expertly. “It's not as bad as some of the beards that I've had to grow, but it's not my favourite look.”

“You look good with a beard. I know you hate them, but you do.”

Leaning forward to set his glass on the bedside table, Henry licked the whiskey off of his lips. “I'm glad to have that compliment.”

“Sure.” Nell nodded, tipping her glass to finish the drink. “Another?”

“Uh, I'm good.” Henry motioned to his glass. Rubbing his hands across his jeans, he furrowed his brow. “I've been thinking, since I am fairly busy the next few months, what if I keep Ivan for a few extra days? Once you leave, I will take him back to London with me, until I have to go.”

Shifting on the bed, her face warm from the second glass of whiskey, Nell sniffled and cleared her throat. “What about school?”

“What about it? He isn't going to miss much, is he? They're nearly finished up and I don't know how long it will be, until I see him. Possibly not until Christmas.”

All he wanted was to spend a little time with his son, was that so hard? His next move would have to be calculated, Nell had been known to stat arguments over less. If Henry wanted to avoid a shouting match, he would have to go about this carefully. Reaching for his glass, he downed the remaining contents in one large gulp. Sighing.

“I want to hang out with him a little. It wouldn't be more than three days extra. Then you get some time alone, as well. Nell, I know that you need a bit of a break. You work so hard and take care of Ivan, please.”

“If you want to, then I suppose I can't really say no. What kind of mother would I be, if I didn't let you see him?”

“Don't say things like that, please.” Henry reached out, his hand taking hers. Gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You are a wonderful mum. You know that.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I could do better. I really do.” Nell shrugged, allowing Henry to continue holding her hand.

“All parents feel that way, I am sure. I know that I feel like that, all the time. I guess it's natural, always wanting to do better, to be better, for our children.”

There he went again. There were times when Nell could not stand to be near him, other times she wanted to be as close as possible. Damn it. Watching him talk about Ivan and the few extras days they would be together, Henry's eyes lit up. His smile broad and the enthusiasm in his voice was one that dictated proud father. Nell nodded, only because she felt it was appropriate to the conversation.

Henry continued to chatter about how he wanted to take Ivan to a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, in London. Leave it to the father and son, finding a day at the museum to be high on the list of fun. Nell sighed, continuing to half listen, half gaze at Henry in awe. One thing she loved – well love could be a strong word – adored? Enjoyed? About Henry was how much he loved Ivan.

Mid sentence about some Sir David Attenborough documentary that he'd watched with Ivan; Nell couldn't help it any longer. Leaning in, without warning, she grabbed Henry's face turning it to her and kissing him. Lips connecting, she stopped and jumped back as if hit by an electric shock.

Clearing his throat, Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but not pulling back. “I didn't know that the National Geographic was that exciting.”

“I'm sorry.” Hiding her face in her hands, Nell shook her head. Oh that had been a mistake. She had absolutely no right. None. Henry was crazy, if he didn't get up right now and walk out. If he was angry, then she deserved that.

Blushing, Nell shook her head. “Henry, I shouldn't have.”

“I'm certainly not going to complain.” He shrugged, leaning in his arm sliding around her shoulder. Nell glanced up, getting the nerves to look at him. Oh she had fucked up. “Next time, I would like some warning though.”

“Warning? Next time?”

“Hmm, yes. Kind of like this, close your eyes.” Henry instructed pulling her closer and kissing her. Nell sighed her body melting against him. She loved the way his lips felt on hers. Soft, with a slight force.

Straddling his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, Nell's fingers laced together. Her lips leaving his, tracing along his jaw, nearing the sweet spot below his ear. A slight nip and he was an unraveling mess. Henry nuzzled his face into her hair, she smelled amazing. Comforting and warm. A groan erupted from deep in his throat, as predicted she had gone straight for that spot.

“Nell, Nell,” Henry cleared his throat, holding her at arm's length, “Janelle, stop.” Looking for any sort of sign that she truly felt that this wasn't a good idea, he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if we continue, I won't stop until...”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, “I don't want you to stop. I don't want to stop. Oh god, Henry. Please.”

“I need to know that you truly, absolutely want to do this.”

“If you don't stop talking and bend me over, I am going to kick you out and do this myself. Please, stop talking. If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have started it.”

A deep rumbling laugh followed, Henry rolled his eyes. God, she was something else. Who was he to deny a gorgeous woman what she wanted? Would this come back to haunt him? Probably. Did he care? Not much. Come morning they would once again go their separate ways, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, he could pretend that he had everything he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

Pulling her to him, Henry kissed her hard. Nell moaned, the force of the kiss was nearly dizzying. Arms around his neck, she rubbed her body against his, trying to grasp the friction that was created when she started to grind herself against his thighs.

“Henry,”

“Hold on, you need patience.” He brushed a bit of hair out of her face, “all in good time.”

Nell squealed when he stood, her legs desperately scrambling to hold onto him. In a futile attempt she huffed, when he let her go, standing in front of him pouting. Unbuttoning his shirt, Henry smirked giving her a heated stare. “Well, are you going to get on the bed or make me do all the work? Shorts off.”

Sliding the mesh shorts down her ass and along her legs, Nell made a bit of a show letting them pool at her feet. Stepping out, as slowly as possible, while lifting the old tshirt from her body. Allowing it to go where it would, as she dropped it. Sitting back on the bed, she could feel her heart in her throat and her stomach where her heart should be.

“Lie back.” Henry instructed, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Arms around her thighs, guiding her to him, he studied her for a moment. She was trembling as his fingers slid across her thighs, positioning her in just the right way.

“Oh god, Hen-Henry.” Nell's mouth was suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. His hot breath between her legs was tormenting her, in unimaginable ways. In anticipation she bucked her hips forward, trying to clench her thighs. Holding her knees with his shoulders, Henry chuckled.

“Eager.”

“Please.”

“You are...” He lingered, kissing the inside of her leg. “Gorgeous. Look at you.” He brushed his thumb against her. Nell whimpered trying to push further. “Hold on, hold on.”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Because I want to enjoy the view, for a moment.” He shrugged, her legs lifting gently. A hand on her lower abdomen, as if holding her in place, he used the other to gently tease and trace along her calf. Without warning, his lips attached to the most sensitive part of her body with his mustache adding an extra sensation, Nell bucked her hips hard, shoving his face further between her thighs.

Nell's head was swimming, it had been a while since she'd felt this good from such an act. Sure, she'd had the odd date here and there, semi-serious relationships, but nobody could do this the way Henry could. He was a fucking magician, she was certain of it. Humming against her mound, Henry couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes, when she began to squirm and wiggle against his face. She was desperate and he was going to prolong this as much as he could.

Sucking her clit, his tongue generously lapping at her, he thoroughly enjoyed the show. Pushing his head as far down as she could, Nell was nearly in tears each time he leaned in, his mustache tickling in just the right way. Oh god, she gasped trying hard to find release. Henry was cunning, backing off at the right moments.

“Henry,” She whined, threading her fingers through his hair. “Don't tease me, I really need you to finish.”

“Stop being so impatient.” He was teasingly stern. Pushing her hands away, he locked his fingers with hers, holding them at her side. Lifting his head, he smirked, kissing up her body ending with another dizzying kiss. Nell sucked on his tongue, freeing her hands from his, she tugged him closer, pulling at fistfuls of hair.

Cleaning herself from his tongue and lips, she sighed. “I'm going to need more than that.”

“You're sure?” Henry paused, holding his weight on his forearms, resting above her. His jeans still on, he could feel the strain against the denim.

“Jeans, off.” She demanded, sitting up to watch. Shivering against the slight chill, her breasts on display giving him the perfect view of her erect nipples. Nell blushed under his gaze. She was not the tight, toned, and perky body she once was. She wasn't out of shape, by any means, but compared to Henry...

“You are gorgeous.” Henry complimented, his jeans on the floor, boxers being pushed down to join them. Stepping out of his pants, he stood at the side of the bed, in all his glory.

Nell licked her lips, reaching out to take him in her hand. Hissing under her touch, Henry involuntarily bucked his hips forward into her hand. Rubbing the head, Nell intently watched Henry while she leaned in taking him fully in her mouth.

“Fuck, Nelly.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, sliding her head back along his length. Hand wrapped around him, stroking in place of her mouth. Bobbing her head back down, she swirled her tongue around the base. He nearly choked her the first time she'd ever gone down on him. Oh how long ago that felt.

Dragging her tongue against his length, she felt her core tighten, with each moan Henry gave. His slight salty taste mixed with the aftertaste of the Johnnie Walker, Nell inhaled deeply through her nose, hollowing her cheeks around him. Gripping the back of her head, Henry tried to not force her too hard, as he began to guide her movement.

Happy to go along with what he needed to feel good, Nell allowed him control over her guidance. Her finger nails grazing the back of his thighs, she mentally checked the small victory when he threw his hips forward at the sensation of her wrapped around him and her nails on his skin.

“Good girl,” Henry mumbled, his head lulling back, his chest rising rapidly. “Keep it up, just like that. Oh shit,”

Nell's chest swelled a little, she could still make him feel good, even after all of this time apart. That was not something she would take lightly, even if this shouldn't be happening. Oh fuck, who cared? They were two consenting adults. Henry's legs quivered, his hands unsteady stroking the back of her head.

“Nell,”

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. His face soft and his jaw slack, she could feel him tightening. The perfect time to stop her actions. “Not yet,” She smirked, wiping her hand across her chin, drool gone. “Fair is fair.”

“Jesus,” Henry grumbled. He had been so fucking close, the knot in the pit of his stomach clenched Slowing his breathing, he took a moment to think of anything else. Laundry? Running? How much longer until he had to renew his passport?

“Henry?”

“Yeah?” He snapped his head to look at Nell.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or...” She shrugged, a devious smirk on her face. Laying back on the bed, she curled her finger beckoning him to her.

“You're still sure about this?” Henry asked. His eyes on her, waiting to see if she had any hint of doubt or hesitation.

“I don't have a condom, but I'm clean. It's not like I'm getting pregnant, so....” If she were to get pregnant, there was going to be on hell of a hefty lawsuit against that surgeon.

“You're sure? I know that I'm...but I don't have.”

“if you don't want to, then I understand.”

“I do, though, but...”

Nell shook her head. “No buts. If you want me, then I'm yours.”

“Fuck, you're making this hard.”

Giggling, Nell glance down. “I think we're beyond things being hard.”

His body betraying him, Henry cleared his throat, she certainly had a point. Fuck it. What did they have to lose? Unless this, some how, came back to bite them. No, no he had to stop that. Give in, enjoy what was happening. It had been too long since he'd been able to watch her in such bliss. Bliss that he was responsible for.

“You're sure?”

Nell nodded siting up, opening her arms, “Come here.”

On the edge of the bed, Henry sighed, his large frame leaning into her. Nell held him for a moment, stroking his hair, the feel of his warmth against her sent shivers through her spine. Pushing him back on the bed, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for the go ahead. Henry gave her a slight nod, adjusting himself on the bed to get comfortable. Straddling his hips, Nell lifted herself to slowly take him.

Sheathing him inch by inch, Nell groaned at the fullness. This was her favourite part, taking him to the end, feeling him stretch her. Rocking her hips forward, she countered the motion sliding them back in the same tantalizing pace. Henry held her hips, pushing his up to meet her. Nell squeaked and giggled. She loved the way he hit all the right spots.

“You can touch me, don't be shy.” Nell winked, lifting her arms and crossing them above her head, allowing him a full view of her breasts. “Go on.” She encouraged.

His large hands cupping her breasts, Henry softly rolled her hardening nipples between his fingers, giving on a slight flick when she moved herself up on his length. Close to letting him slide out, she moved back down, her ass grinding against him.

The way her body moved against his was mesmerizing. Massaging her supple skin, from her breasts down her sides, one hand settling on her ass and the other on her hip. Henry loved the shape, even if she had changed a little since having Ivan. God she was stunning.

Hastening her pace, Nell rocked back and forth, up and down. Henry closed his eyes feeling every bit of movement, each clench. Taking in the sounds of her breathing, mixed with his, her small moans not going unnoticed.

“Henry,” She whispered, biting her bottom lip, leaning forward to touch her lips against his. “Please,”

Without having to be asked twice, he moved swiftly, turning them over to pin her beneath him. Nell sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the pull of her muscles caused another shiver. Her head now against the pillow, she reached, tracing the lines of his face with her fingertip.

“I don't know that I can be as slow as you were.” Henry nipped her finger. Holding back on his desire to pound her into the bed.

“Then don't.” Nell batted her eye lashes at him.

Somehow that was all he needed, that tiny bit of permission. Picking up the pace, Henry grunted. Nell moaned drawing her knees upward, allowing him an even better vantage to this position. As if the pent up emotions from the last few years, hours, minutes had been released the couple were lost in the sensation of skin on skin. The feeling of sparks and electricity coursing through them. Connecting them.

“Fuck, Janelle.” Henry hissed, his arm locked into position on either side of her head, keeping him from tumbling on top of her.

“Henry,” She squealed splaying her hands against his chest, tugging at the soft hairs. “Oh god. Please, don't stop. My god, oh fuck.”

“You are fucking amazing. Fuck, look at you.” Kissing her roughly, he sighed, steadying his pace. His hips slapping hers, Nell shook slightly her soft sobs of pleasure were enough to send him to an end.

Shaking with pleasure, Nell gasped trying to bring herself down from the high. Henry moaned, his head back and chest heaving. It had been a while since he had felt that good. Nell laid with her legs hooked around his thighs, no desire to move. Collapsing with his head on her chest, Henry allowed his body to rest. Sweaty and sticky, they laid tangled together. Neither one wanting to break the feeling.

Dosing in and out, Nell was the first to move. Her body growing heavy with Henry still on top of her. She needed to move, before seizing up. Pushing his head to the side, she giggled and kissed the tip of her nose when he lazily looked up.

“I need to pee,”

“Hmph.” Henry nodded, slowly rolling over. Allowing her to escape. Laying flat on the bed, while she scurried off to the bathroom, Henry pushed himself up off of the bed. He should be getting back to his parents, back to Ivan.

All thoughts of moving were squashed, when Nell came back, climbing in beside him. Her clothes still on the floor. Her body was comforting against his. “Hi,” she whispered, sliding in under his arm.

“Nell?” Henry laid with his arm around her shoulder.

“Huh?” Nell grunted, her face buried in his chest.

“I should head back.”

“If you want to. You can stay, I don't mind.” Nell yawned. Her eyes closing.

“Okay, but only for a little while.” Henry agreed, closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he would get up, shower, and head back.

With a start, Henry woke, a loud banging noise rattling him. Looking around the dark room, he squinted to find the source of the noise. Hearing someone whispering at a distance, Henry laid in bed, listening. Against him, Nell stirred, but didn't wake. Someone in the hall was talking, no doubt they had been the source of the banging. He had fell asleep, Nell wrapped against him.

Looking at his watch, Henry frowned. 4am. If he left right now, he could be back before anybody woke. If he left now, he risked Kal barking and waking the house. If he waited, he would risk walking in and having to explain himself to one or more person. Of course he could tell them that he'd ran into some old friends, had some drinks and stayed on a sofa somewhere. Too drunk to drive.

Shifting in bed, Nell sighed, her arm around his waist she snuggled in closer. She was content, who was Henry to try and disturb her sleep? He would wait an hour or two, before he made his departure. So what if he waltzed in, being faced by one of his brothers, or even his mother. He was an adult, if he wanted to stay out all night enjoying the company of a fantastic woman, then he would do just that.

Kissing the top of Nell's head, Henry smiled, sinking down further into the covers, closing his eyes.

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Bakugou x Reader - Not Butterflies

Shit hits the fan and you both have to stop thinking like heroes and more like a couple to fix it. 

Dedicated to: @silenceofthecookies Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 3K

The glare of the television screen only added to the discomfort you felt each time you checked your phone with no good news to show for it. There were no notifications, not a single sign of life that would put your mind at ease and keep you from worrying. You were met with only the changing of the hour as the room darkened around you.  You were bundled up on the couch, a fleece blanket wrapped tightly around you serving as the only comfort you could provide for yourself.

Katsuki wasn’t big on texting. Small talk was not something he would actively engage in face to face, let alone through text. Even so, you could always count on him letting you know each time he had finished for the day and would be on his way home. After the two of you had graduated from UA, you had moved back into your parents’ place for a few months in search for an apartment. That was nearly two years ago, and the apartment you shared with your boyfriend of four years was finally starting to look like a home. The television set-up no longer balanced on cardboard boxes, the messy suitcases had been replaced by an actual wardrobe and the cutlery in the kitchen finally matched. Even Katsuki’s reluctantly softened features were put on display throughout the living space in the form of polaroid pictures that had been haphazardly pinned to the walls with thumb tacks. To a stranger it seemed like a cozy home shared by two people who spent their days enjoying each other’s company, which wasn’t exactly the case - not now, at least.

Moving in together had seemed like the obvious next step in your relationship, and it had been save for the slight miscalculation in the quality time department. As pro heroes, you were both doing well. This was definitely a plus when it came to learning how to deal with finances and the like, but working a lot also meant spending less time at the home front than you had initially anticipated. Your mutual friends seemed to be solving this issue through the form of communication, but unfortunately that was something neither Katsuki nor you excelled at.

With Katsuki, communication had always been simple in the sense that there had  never been that much to argue about so heavy conversations rarely occurred and, even if they did occur, they were always solved by either one of you simply giving their opinion and, if needed, compromising. The difference was that, back then, there had been more opportunities for the both of you to sit down and have a conversation. There had been more time spent together: between classes, after assignments and even late at night before bedtime, though the latter often poked at both of your bad tempers and resulted in an explosive discussion, excuse the pun.

Right now, Katsuki was letting the pro hero rankings get to his head, causing him to take on the longest and hardest assignments he could get and resulting in him barely spending any time at home. It had come to a point where you felt anxious going grocery shopping, not knowing if you should bother buying groceries for two people, since Katsuki’s serving often lay forgotten in the fridge after he’d get home in the middle of the night, tired and already having eaten on the way home. You barely felt him crawl into bed with you, only to feel him leaving long before the sun was back up. It felt like he was starting to slip. Like he was drifting away from your relationship with him and towards a world that revolved only around his job. It was a very Katsuki thing to do, but, seeing as he’d grown up a lot since his first years at UA, it was disheartening to see him slip back into old habits without a chance to discuss your worries with him.

That same dread filled you as the moonlight streamed into the living room, another indication of how terribly late it was getting. He was supposed to be home by now. Katsuki had planned a meeting with Hatsume, who had become one of the best in her own ways, to discuss some adjustments to Katsuki’s hero costume. That type of meeting wasn’t supposed to take long, so when you came home to an empty apartment after your own assignments, you had felt your stomach drop. Part of you had tried to stay optimistic as you prepared dinner, but as the clock ticked and the hours seemed rush by, Katsuki’s food ended up in the fridge and you had to endure dinner by yourself once again. That was how you had anxiously made your way to the couch with a cup of tea in hand.

You checked your phone once again, but to no avail. It was starting to overwhelm you. This was not what you had signed up for. It wasn’t often that you let yourself get this emotional over Katsuki, because it was rarely this serious, but this time it was starting to feel like you had hit a dead end. Was this really the way things were going to end? With him growing out of your relationship and deciding that that was fine, while you were left feeling empty and staring into the void with the white noise of a once shared television set in the background, alone on a couch where you had spent some of your softest moments together? The Katsuki you knew couldn’t be that cruel...

... Could he?

The sound of the front door slamming shut made your heart stutter and you watched the blond step into the living room, looking stoic and cold as he eyed you. He was standing just a few feet away, but he’d never seemed further away, not even on that day you first made eye contact from across the room back in your second year at UA.

“So much for spending time together, huh?”

The tone of his voice matched his features with an crispness that chilled you inside and out.

Your eyebrows knit together, slowly realising that he was somehow making you feel responsible for the situation you were in. “Excuse you? If you wanted to spend time so much, then you had every opportunity to do so, I’d say. I’ve been waiting here for you all night. I’m always waiting. How am I to blame, here?”

Katsuki’s features hardened even further, evolving into a look you’d never seen him direct at you. “You have got to be kidding me. For once, I was trying to do the right thing here--”

“Do the right thing? By leaving me here by myself again? Do you think I like preparing food I know you won’t eat? Do you think I like going to sleep and waking up in a cold bed?”

“You had a choice--!”

Bakugou was trying his hardest not to burst out into explosive yelling, and you could see that frustration was getting the better of him. You couldn’t understand what he was getting at. How did you ever have a choice in him not being there when you wanted-- needed him to be there?

Before you could say anything else, Bakugou had made a beeline towards the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind him. That’s when you noticed your eyes burning with tears you were too stubborn to shed. With trembling legs, you went to sit down onto the couch once again, and you wondered if sleeping in your shared bed tonight was even a good idea.

Bakugou’s POV

The days were becoming longer and harsher as Bakugou barely got any sleep, spending his nights staring at the sleeping person next to him -- the one he wanted to impress the most, the one he so desperately wanted to make happy. But he was failing to do so, he could feel it. You barely spent time together, but Bakugou figured that if he became the best, then he would be able to make you proud of him and then life would get easier. Maybe if he achieved his goals faster, he would be able to spend his life by your side comfortably, knowing that he could provide easily and knowing he was doing the best that he could possibly do. The stolen forehead kisses in the middle of the night were left only for him to remember as he watched your resting form, and they were the only thing that kept him going these days. He needed them to get over the heartache that came with the sight of his dinner in the fridge. He was disappointing you. He wasn’t there, couldn’t be good enough. He needed to work harder, be stronger, be better for you.

Back at AU it was easier to assume that he was the best, surrounded by background characters who turned out not to be too terrible to be around. It was easier to imagine that you were proud of him, back then. Once he became a pro hero, though, it seemed like every time he proved his worth as he defeated one villain, an other, stronger villain would provide an even bigger challenge, one that he sometimes couldn’t tackle by himself. He simply wasn’t the best he could be yet, and you deserved the best. But he could see the dried tears on your cheeks late at night, and could hear the nightmares that he had no way of saving you from. Something had to happen. He had to fix this, because it was tearing the two of you apart.

That day, he had met up with Hatsume, who seemed to notice the way Katsuki wasn’t entirely himself. He seemed tired, too tired to even make snide remarks to some of the adjustments Hatsume had suggested. After she’d left, he’d sent you a quick text, asking you to meet him for dinner at your favourite restaurant, so you could finally have a decent conversation. He then went to take care of a few errands before he headed straight to the restaurant, waiting outside and only sporadically checking his phone for the time.

When at first you didn’t respond, let alone join him at the restaurant, he’d felt his heart break, feeling as though you were giving up on him after all. He knew... He knew you weren’t happy with how things were, but he had hoped that maybe you would still give him a chance to fix things, even though he had no idea how he was supposed to do that without giving up on his goals. If making Bakugou give up on his life goals was the only way you would be happy... You would never be that egocentric...

...Would you?

By the time the sun went down and you still hadn’t replied, he felt his anxiety and despair slowly evolve into anger. The least you could do is talk to him about the situation. You owed him that much.

He become so overwhelmed that he ended up sprinting his way back to the shared apartment, where he felt his last nerve being blown up by your behaviour. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to spend time with you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t offered to have a conversation with you, so why wouldn’t you admit that you just didn’t take the chance to fix things?

He needed time to cool off. A cold shower would soothe his nerves. He couldn’t stand watching you fall apart when he had clearly done what he thought was right. It was a two way street, no?

After his shower, he changed into some PJ shorts and a freshly washed shirt. The scent of the fabric softener reminded him of the sheets he found you bundled up in every night, and for some reason it broke his heart once again. He grit his teeth and gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, watching his knuckles turn ivory as he willed himself not to give into emotions that would make him lose control over his composure. He took a few slow breaths and then straightened his back, deciding to clean up after himself and throw his clothes into the hamper. As he did so, his wallet and his phone clattered onto the tiles, making him curse under his breath. He picked them up with a sigh and then checked to see if his phone was still alive.

The clock signalled that it was almost midnight, and he noticed a small crack in the screen right above it, next to the aeroplane icon that signalled...

His phone was on aeroplane mode. How...

That’s when it hit him. Katsuki had put his phone on aeroplane mode during the meeting with Hatsume, and hadn’t touched the settings afterwards. He gulped, feeling a shiver crawling up his spine as he realised just how badly he had fucked up and unlocked his phone.

His text message to you had never been sent.

With dread filling his entire being, he changed the settings and watched several text messages arrive.

[5.21 PM: Y/N] I’m making stew tonight! You’ll be home for dinner, right? [6:45 PM: Y/N] Almost done. Are you close? [7:33 PM: Y/N] I’ll go ahead and eat... I’ll save you some in the fridge... [9:01 PM: Y/N] ...Is everything all right? [10:53 PM: Y/N] Katsuki...?

With a heavy heart, he locked his phone screen once again and unlocked the bathroom door. He padded his way towards the kitchen and made two cups of tea, carefully bringing them over to the living room and setting them down on the coffee table.

He could barely look you in the eye as he pulled out his phone and showed you the message he never actually sent.

His voice was rough when he muttered a soft “I’m sorry. I put my phone on aeroplane mode when I met up with Hatsume. I had no idea. I-- I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your POV

When Katsuki came out of the bathroom looking frustrated but infinitely less pissed, you felt a sense of hope bloom in your chest. Even though it was late, you hoped you could at least clear up a thing or two, because you still had no idea what had just happened.

The scent of the tea that hit your senses calmed you down, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of the dip in the couch cushion as Katsuki took a seat next to you. When he showed you his phone, it suddenly became painfully clear what had happened.

After you’d processed what had happened, you felt your throat close up once again. “You idiot...” You looked over at him and watched how he was stubbornly looking at a small stain on the carpet but looking ten different kinds of defeated. “You... absolute idiot.”

He didn’t seem opposed to the insult... not this time.

“Did you wait at the restaurant all this time?”

He reached out for his cup of tea and took a tentative sip, after which he nodded. “At first I thought you were punishing me. Since I’m never home for dinner anymore, I thought you would let me wait a while before showing up, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

You scoffed, frowning into the steam that rose from your cup. “I’ve not been... happy about that, but I would never do that to you, Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s nose scrunched up slightly, signalling that he was getting frustrated again. “I just keep fucking up. I keep fucking up and it’s pissing me off because you deserve better, I promised to take care of you--”

“Take care of me?” Your frown intensified, “Katsuki we’re supposed to take care of each other. And that doesn’t mean working so hard you’re barely functioning. I thought you were past all that. I’m behind you and your aspirations 100%, but you know there’s more to life than just proving your worth.”

But he shook his head, “This isn’t about proving my worth anymore, it’s gone beyond that.” He looked up, “It’s about proving your worth. Ours. I want to be good enough for us, and I don’t think I am.”

“Being good enough for us does not include missing out on quality time, Katsuki. It does not include skipping on affection and it definitely doesn’t include not talking to your partner. You are good enough for us, Katsuki, but you have to be around for me to be able to show you that.”

Katsuki looked guilty more than he looked frustrated, then. After a long pause, he nodded in agreement and placed his tea back down onto the coffee table. He kept his gaze fixed on the cup as he tensed his shoulders as if he was bracing himself for what he was about to say. “Y/N... I am really, really sorry.” He looked up, locking his gaze with yours. “I will do better, I promise.”

At this point, you put your cup down as well and placed your hand on Katsuki’s thigh, your features softening slightly. “I know you will. We both will.”

“Do you still love me, Y/N?” He still had a serious expression stretched across his features, but there was a glint of softness in his eyes.

With an unnecessarily heavy sigh, you nodded. “Yeah-- I really do.”

“Good,” Katsuki nodded, taking a moment to remove your hand from his thigh and turn his body towards you, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. The sudden proximity made a shiver crawl up your spine, a sweet smile matching Katsuki’s gaze in softness.

Finally, the sentiment made the corners of Katsuki’s lips curl up, forming a smile that you knew he only shot your way when he knew he was going to make you feel like he wanted to give you the world. The tip of his nose slowly rubbed up and down along yours as his eyelids lowered. When his lips met yours, weeks upon weeks of affection exploded between the two of you, spreading like a frenzy throughout your body. It barely registered how Katsuki cupped you’re jaw as his lips moved along yours. When he pulled back, all you could do was blink up at him, and that did not escape his attention.

“Butterflies?” he asked.

You shook your head slowly, smiling. “Dynamite.”

[ashxketchum]

💚 MIMATO HALLOWEEN 2021 💙

A/n: No judgement but I legit typed this on my phone at work today, so it is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️ Also @himetsundere sent me some prompts a month ago and I finally utilised them 🙇🏻‍♀️

Happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates it, hope you enjoy another instalment from my domestic af Mimatoverse 🎃

The slightly chilly October air and the smell of maple leaves lingering in it surrounded them the minute they exited the University building. Mimi was delighted to see the golden brown leaves strewn across either side of the pavements, along with the orange and black splash of Halloween decorations, the scenery was perfectly suited to her tastes. She was also relieved to be out of the crowded room, that after only an hour had begun to feel too stuffy and warm for her liking, especially with her husband refusing to let go of her hand. Which at first was kind of cute but became a bother when their palms were moist and icky with sweat making her feel a little less cute. Being out in the open was refreshing for both of them and since they were finally away from the curious eyes of Yamato’s colleague’s, Mimi managed to pry her hand away from his possessive grasp, happy to be able to wipe the sweat off of it at last.  

“I really do wonder how you managed to get into this program with that brain of yours.” She smirked at him, watching him frown at her statement from the corner of her eye.

Yamato opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a bunch of students dressed up as zombies ran past them, laughing and hooting loudly. The vast change in the behaviour of Japanese people on the day of Halloween still continued to surprise her at times, and as she ran her eyes across the various events happening around the campus, she realised that this night could very well be the liveliest moment this University had ever seen. She heard him clear his throat loudly to get her attention, so she obliged, turning to face him with her eyebrows raised with expectations over how he was planning to defend himself.

“Look, I had no idea it would be this bad.” He replied solemnly, and she believed him, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t mess with him.

The party they had just left, had been organised by the head researcher of the program Yamato had recently been accepted into. It was his first time attending an unofficial gathering with his colleagues and he’d been adamant about bringing Mimi along, even though she always told him that space nerds (except for him) were the most boring creatures on this planet. But Yamato insisted still for her to make an appearance at this party, for a lack of better word, since his co-workers had been finding it hard to believe that he was happily married and had turned his claims about it into an inside joke. Yamato’s field of study and profession did require an immense amount of dedication so being single was pretty much the norm, and anyone who’d managed to focus on both their studies and start a family was immediately considered an outcast.

So all her husband had wanted to do was prove to his department that unlike the rest of them, he was fully capable of maintaining his position in the research program and have a stable marriage. What he hadn’t taken into account however, was how many of his colleagues were probably not used to conversing with a woman like Mimi in such close proximity. From the minute they had entered the room in their cutely coordinated Devil and Angel costumes, all eyes had been on them, or rather Mimi, and the two had found it extremely difficult to navigate through the party without being hounded by questions from every single direction. And of course, seeing so many men vying for Mimi’s attention stirred up the old jealous boyfriend sleeping inside Yamato and he tightly held onto her hand, pulling her as close to him as possible every time a new colleague approached them. Which gave Mimi neither a chance to make a good impression on his seniors or talk to the other few women in the room.

To conclude, their night had been somewhat of a disaster, which could’ve been easily avoided if Yamato truly understood the kind of people he was working with.

“I genuinely thought they would be better behaved than this,” Yamato muttered under his breath as they continued their slow walk to the parking.

“You need to learn to pay attention to the people you work with, Yama kun.” Mimi chided him playfully, and he rolled his eyes at her advice. With mischief and a hope to redeem this night churning in the brunette’s head, she sent a pout in her husband’s direction and sighed dramatically, “And if only you trusted me enough to handle the situation by myself.”

“Of course I trust you! I’ve always trusted you.” Yamato reacted instantly, halting in his tracks to face her, “I couldn’t trust them.”

“Same thing, Yama kun.”

“It is not.” He retorted almost whiningly, and when their eyes met, he must’ve immediately caught onto his wife’s true intentions because he added hastily, “And don’t you dare ask me to prove it.”

“Oh but you have to prove it now.” Mimi laughed and very triumphantly pointed to the building in front of which Yamato had decided to stop. She watched in absolute amusement as Yamato turned around and came face to face with the building that had been turned into a Haunted House for the night, all colour draining from his face the minute he realised what Mimi was going to subject him to.

“If you really trust me Yama kun, then you must come with me to the Haunted House.” Mimi declared chirpily and the blond let out a load, exhausted groan.

She hadn’t made the choice easy for him at all, it was either accepting out loud that he did not trust her to stay true to him or walking through a house full of his worst nightmares, and each was somehow scarier than the other. As she watched him struggle to pick one of the two, Mimi did feel for a brief moment that she’d had her fun and it would be better to put Yamato out of this misery soon, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, a chance to see him attempt to keep a brave face on as a ghost jumped out at him in the dark wasn’t something that she came across everyday and Mimi decided to make the most of it while she could.

“Fine, let’s go through the damned Haunted House.” He muttered under his breath and Mimi squealed with joy.

He lingered behind her as she purchased their entry tickets, grimacing at the looming figure of the house when they queued up in front of the entrance, and finally sighing in defeat as the doors opened with a loud, creaking sound to let them in. When they entered and a witch’s creepy laughter filled the room, Mimi felt his fingers brush against hers for a moment, before he pulled away leaving her disappointed. She looked at him from the corner of her eye she saw that Yamato’s face was paler than usual and he had his lips pursed tightly as his eyes darted around the hall in an attempt to prepare himself for whatever was about to jump out at them from the darkness. The sight was too cute to not laugh at, but Mimi somehow managed to stifle her laughter.

The first few rooms were nothing but jump scares performed by students dressed in cheap costumes and makeup which barely made Mimi bat an eyelid, but she could feel Yamato behind her reacting to every scare as mutedly as possible. Once she even heard a high-pitched squeak when a girl dressed like the girl from Ring came running towards them at full speed, but when she turned around to check on him, Yamato pretended to whistle, and was quiet terrible at both covering up his cowardice and the whistling. It was when they moved on to the part where the horror was laced in the set design and considerably more sinister than students in wigs jumping out at them, that Mimi felt Yamato’s fingers brush past hers yet again, and she rolled her eyes at his pride that kept making him pull away, when suddenly in a swift gesture Yamato’s hand slipped into her and he tightened his hold on her without missing a beat. 

Mimi, finally content that he hadn’t pulled away from seeking comfort in her, turned to smiled at him and lowered her pace so the two could walk side by side, tugging reassuringly at his hand as they entered the final stretch.

When they finally made it out, Yamato covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes gently, as if hoping to wipe off the memory of everything he had seen inside the Haunted House.

“I guess it’s safe to say that if a ghost ever attacked us, you wouldn’t even bother to check if I am right behind you or not,” Mimi chuckled to herself.

“Oh without a doubt, you’d be on your own then. I don’t remember our vows including anything along the lines of ‘in sickness and in undead spirits’.” Yamato humoured her.

“Well I’m happy as long as I get to hear you scream like a girl.”

Yamato’s ears turned a bright pink for a moment before he shook his head and smirked at her, “Wow, what a coincidence, Meems. I love to hear you scream like one too.”

Fin.

[tlbodine]

The Horror Genius of Five Nights At Freddy’s

I’ve been playing FNAF: Help Wanted VR on my Oculus Quest lately (a birthday present to myself -- I know I’m late to that party!) and it’s reignited in me my old love of this series. I know Scott Cawthon’s politics aren’t great, but I don’t think there’s any malice in his heart beyond usual Christian conservative nonsense -- and I think he stepped down as graciously and magnanimously as possible when confronted about it. Time will judge Scott Cawthon’s politics, and that’s not what I’m here to talk about. I want to talk about what makes these games so damn special, from a horror, design, and marketing perspective. I think there’s really SO MUCH to be learned from studying these games and the wider influence they’ve had as intellectual property. 

What Is FNAF? 

In case you’ve somehow been living under a rock for the last seven years, Five Nights At Freddy’s (hereafter, FNAF) is a horror franchise spanning 17 games (10 main games + some spinoffs and troll games, we’ll get to that), 27 books, a movie deal, and a couple live-action attractions. 

But before it exploded into that kind of tremendous IP, it started out as a single indie pont-and-click game created entirely by one dude, Scott Cawthon. Cawthon had developed other games in the past without much fame or success, including some Christian children’s entertainment. He was working as a cashier at Dollar General and making games in his spare time -- and most of those games got panned. 

So he tried making something different. 

After being criticized that the characters in one of his children’s games looked like soulless, creepy animatronics, Cawthon had his lightbulb moment and created a horror game centered on....creepy animatronics! 

The rest, as they say, is history. 

The Genius of FNAF’s Horror Elements

In the first FNAF game, you play as a night security guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, a sort of ersatz Chuck-E-Cheese establishment. The animatronics are on free-roaming mode at night, but you don’t want to let them find you in your security room so you have to watch them move through the building on security camera monitors. If they get too close, you can slam your security room doors closed. But be careful, because this restaurant operates on a shoestring budget, and the power will go off if you keep the doors closed too long or flicker the lights too often. And once the lights go out, you’re helpless against the animatronics in the dark. 

Guiding you through your gameplay is a fellow employee, Phone Guy, who calls you each night with some helpful advice. Phone Guy is voiced by Cawthon himself, and listening to his tapes gives you some hints of the game’s underlying story as well as telling you how to play. A few newspaper clippings and other bits of scrap material help to fill in more details of the story. 

Over the next set of games, the story would be further developed, with each new game introducing new mechanics and variations on the theme -- in one, you don a mask to slip past the notice of animatronics; in another, you have to play sound cues to lure an animatronic away from you. By the fourth game, the setup was changed completely, now featuring a child with a flashlight hiding from the monsters outside his door -- nightmarish versions of the beloved child-friendly mascots. The mechanics change just enough between variations to keep things fresh while maintaining a consistent brand. 

There are so many things these games do well from a storytelling and horror perspective: 

Jump Scares: It’s easy to shrug these games off for relying heavily on jump scares, and they absolutely do have a lot of them. But they’re used strategically. In most games, the jump scares are a punishment (a controlled shock, if you will) -- if you play the game perfectly, you’ll never be jump-scared. This is an important design choice that a lot of other horror games don’t follow. 

Atmospheric Dread: These games absolutely deliver horror and tension through every element of design -- some more than others, admittedly. But a combination of sound cues, the overall texture and aesthetic of the world, the “things move when you’re not looking at them” mechanic, all of it works together to create a feeling of unease and paranoia. 

Paranoia: As in most survival horror games, you’re at a disadvantage. You can’t move or defend yourself, really -- all you can do is watch. And so watch you do. Except it’s a false sense of security, because flicking lights and checking cameras uses up precious resources, putting you at greater risk. So you have to balance your compulsive need to check, double-check, and make sure...with methodical resource conservation. The best way to survive these games is to remain calm and focused. It’s a brilliant design choice. 

Visceral Horror: The monster design of the animatronics is absolutely delightful, and there’s a whole range of them to choose from. The sheer size and weight of the creatures, the way they move and position themselves, their grunginess, the deadness of their eyes, the quantity and prominence of their teeth. They are simultaneously adorable and horrifying. 

Implicit Horror: One of the greatest strengths to FNAF as a franchise is that it never wears its story on its sleeve. Instead of outright telling you what’s going on, the story is delivered in bits and pieces that you have to put together yourself -- creating a puzzle for an engaged player to think about and theorize over and consider long after the game is done. But more than that, the nature of the horror itself is such that it becomes increasingly upsetting the more you think on it. The implications of what’s going on in the game world -- that there are decaying bodies tucked away inside mascots that continue to perform for children, that a man dressed in a costume is luring kids away into a private room to kill them, and so forth -- are the epitome of fridge horror. 

The FNAF lore does admittedly start to become fairly ridiculous and convoluted as the franchise wears on. But even ret-conned material manages to be pretty interesting in its own right (and there is nothing in the world keeping you from playing the first four games, or even the first six, and pretending none of the rest exist). 

Another thing I really appreciate about the FNAF franchise is that it’s quite funny, in a way that complements and underscores the horror rather than detracting from it. It’s something a lot of other properties utterly fail to do. 

The Genius of Scott Cawthon’s Marketing 

OK, so FNAF utilizes a multi-prong attack for creating horror and implements it well -- big deal. Why did it explode into a massive IP sensation when other indie horror games that are just as well-made barely made a blip on the radar? 

Well! That’s where the real genius comes in. This game was built and marketed in a way to maximize its franchisability. 

First, the story utilizes instantly identifiable, simple but effective character designs, and then generates more and more instantly identifiable unique characters with each iteration. Having a wealth of characters and clever, unique designs basically paves the way for merchandise and fan-works. (That they’re anthropomorphic animal designs also probably helped -- because that taps into the furry fandom as well without completely alienating non-furries). 

Speaking of fan-work, Scott Cawthon has always been very supportive of fandom, only taking action when people would try to profit off knock-off games and that sort of thing -- basically bad-faith copies. But as far as I know he’s always been super chill with fan-created content, even going so far as to engage directly with the fandom. Which brings me to....

These games were practically designed for streaming, and he took care to deliver them into the hands of influential streamers. Because the games are heavy on jump-scares and scale in difficulty (even including extra-challenging modes after the core game is beaten) they are extremely fun to watch people play. They’re short enough to be easily finished over the duration of a long stream, and they’re episodic -- lending themselves perfectly to a YouTube Lets Play format. One Night = One Video, and now the streamer has weeks of content from your game (but viewers can jump in at any time without really missing much). 

The games are kid-friendly but also genuinely frightening. Because the most disturbing parts of the game’s lore are hinted at rather than made explicit, younger players can easily engage with the game on a more basic surface level, and others can go as deep into the lore as they feel comfortable. There is no blood and gore and violence or even any explicitly stated death in the main game; all of the murder and death is portrayed obliquely by way of 8-bit mini games and tangential references. Making this game terrifying but accessible to youngsters, and then marketing it directly to younger viewers through popular streamers (and later, merchandising deals) is genius -- because it creates a very broad potential audience, and kids tend to spend 100% of their money (birthdays, allowances, etc.) and are most likely to tell their friends about this super scary game, etc. etc.

By creating a puzzle box of lore, and then interacting directly with the fandom -- dropping hints, trolling, essentially creating an ARG of his own lore through his website, in-game easter eggs, and tie-in materials -- Cawthon created a mystery for fandom to solve. And fans LOVE endlessly speculating over convoluted theories. 

Cawthon released these games FAST. He dropped FNAF 2 within months of the first game’s release, and kept up a pace of 1-2 games a year ever since. This steady output ensured the games never dropped out of public consciousness -- and introducing new puzzle pieces for the lore-hungry fans to pore over helped keep the discussion going. 

I think MatPat and The Game Theorists owe a tremendous amount of their own huge success to this game. I think Markiplier does, too, and other big streamers and YouTubers. It’s been fascinating watching the symbiotic relationship between these games and the people who make content about these games. Obviously that’s true for a lot of fandom -- but FNAF feels so special because it really did start so small. It’s a true rags-to-riches sleeper hit and luck absolutely played a role in its growth, but skill is a big part too. 

Take-Aways For Creatives 

I want to be very clear here: I do not think that every piece of media needs to be “IP,” franchisable, an extended universe, or a multimedia sensation. I think there is plenty to be said for creating art of all types, and sometimes that means a standalone story with a small audience. 

But if you do want a chance at real break-out, run-away success and forging a media empire of your own, I think there are some take-aways to be learned from the success of FNAF: 

Persistence. Scott Cawthon studied animation and game-design in the 1990s and released his first game in 2002. He released a bunch of stuff afterward. None of it stuck. It took 12 years to hit on the winning formula, and then another several years of incredibly hard work to push out more titles and stoke the fires before it really became a sensation. Wherever you’re at on your creative journey, don’t give up. You never know when your next thing will be The Thing that breaks you out. 

If you want to sell a lot of something, you have to make it widely appealing to a bunch of people. This means keeping your concept simple to understand (”security guard wards off creepy killer animatronics at a pizza parlor”) and appealing to as wide a segment of the market as you can (ie, a horror story that appeals to both kids and adults). The more hyper-specific your audience, the harder it’s gonna be to find them and the fewer copies of your thing you’ll be selling. 

Know your shit and put your best work out there. I think there’s an impulse to feel like “well, nobody reads this anyway, so why does it matter if it’s no good” (I certainly have fallen into that on multiple occasions) but that’s the wrong way to think about it. You never know when and where your break will come. Put your best work out there and keep on polishing your craft with better and better stuff because eventually one of those things you chuck out there is going to be The Thing. 

Figure out where your target audience hangs out, and who influences them, and then get your thing in the hands of those influencers. Streaming and YouTube were the secret to FNAF’s success. Maybe yours will be BookTube, or Instagram, or a secret cabal of free librarians. I don’t know. But you should try your best to figure out who would like the thing that you’re making, and then figure out how to reach those people, and put all of your energy into that instead of shotgun-blasting your marketing all willy nilly. 

You don’t have to put the whole story on the page. Audiences love puzzles. Fans love mysteries. You can actually leave a lot more unanswered than you think. There’s some value in keeping secrets and leaving things for others to fill in. Remember -- your art is only partly yours. The sandbox belongs to others to play in, too, and you have to let them do that. 

If in doubt, appealing to furries never hurts. 

Do I take all of this advice myself? Not by a long shot. But it’s definitely a lot to think about. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go beat The Curse of Dreadbear. 

[zevlors-tail]

Rooftops

Pairing: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Description: Sometimes being a Hero isn’t just fighting villains and rescuing people from burning buildings; sometimes it’s battling demons and rescuing people from themselves instead.

Warnings: Suicidal reader, thoughts of suicide, attempted suicide? (reader doesn’t succeed), trauma bonding, mentions of bullying, little bit of touch starvation? Talks of therapy, decision to try therapy.

A/N: I guess you could say I needed to vent some heavy things. PLEASE do not read this if you are triggered by anything mentioned above. Also, I HC that Midoriya never would have gone through with it, but he might have at one point been in the reader’s position, and I wish they would expand on how what Katsuki said and did to him in middle school affected his life more. I will never be satisfied until we get a proper apology from Bakugou and the two of them sort out their feelings about it, bc you KNOW that had to create some trauma. So I guess this might be sort of a fix-it fic? Also, I’m sorry for the ending, it might be cringe, idk. I can’t help but add fluff to everything I write, apparently. I love Best Boi, what can I say?

You breathed in the cool night air as you leaned against the railing, fingers trembling slightly against the rusty metal. Everything seemed so surreal; the noisy traffic below, the people bustling down streets and alleyways, the dimmed apartment lights from the building across... What did any of it matter? In the grand scheme of things, you were just a small spec of the universe observing all these phenomenons, a waste of space taking up time that could belong to something or someone more useful than your sorry excuse of an existence. That’s what you thought, at least.

You leaned a little farther over and rested your chest against the bars of steel. Would anyone miss you if you were to just...disappear? If you dropped everything and left right now, would anyone care? Would anyone cry for your absence? These were questions you had asked yourself over and over again, and each time you had managed to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, the answer was yes, someone would care. But each time the questions rolled around in your head, it got harder to convince yourself of that. You found doubts in every corner of your mind, in every crack and crevice of your brain that they could slink into. Quiet at first, but now as loud as a siren, they overwhelmed you and made you believe you were worthless. They beat you down, exhausted you, claimed your once happy spirit and soiled it with numbness and apathy. Those doubts were the reason you wholeheartedly believed that you no longer mattered to anyone.

They were also the reason you were twenty stories up in the air on the roof of your apartment building.

Steeling your nerves and taking a deep breath, you let everything sink in. This was what you were waiting for all these years. All of your life had lead up to this single moment; all of your past mistakes, all of your life decisions, all of the lost friends, your job, your family and their snide remarks, your short comings...and all the rest. It didn’t matter. Every time you blinked, every sneeze, every laugh, whether genuine or fake, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, including you.

Nothing matters, and no one cares.

And with that final thought, you hoisted yourself up and over the railing, limbs heavy with a dull numbness as you planted your feet loosely on the other side. For a second you balanced yourself, arms outstretched behind you to grip on to the bars for one last fleeting sense of security. Just one more step. But even as you moved forward, you found that your hands seemed to tighten their grip on the steel, and suddenly you felt physical panic despite your mind telling you that this was what you really wanted. It seemed your body was defying your mind.

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

Startled, you stumbled back and tightened your hold on the rails until your knuckles turned white. Were you imagining things, or did you just hear a voice? And if so, who was it and what were they doing all the way up here? Whatever their business was though, it surely had nothing to do with you, right? So why were they meddling in your affairs when you just wanted to be left alone? The thought of it was just a little too much, and you found yourself snapping at whoever was behind you.

“Uh, yeah, I think I do.” It came out more spiteful than you meant it to sound. But then, that was just how you were these days...bitter and cold. All the more reason to end everything.

“Please, just come back over here to the other side of the railing. We can talk if you want, or I can just sit with you, or we can listen to music together if that would help?” The stranger’s voice was gentle and pleading, as if he was afraid to break you if he spoke too loud. 

“Just leave me alone! Why do you care anyway?” You stole a glance behind you to get a good look at the person trying to talk you down. The first thing you noticed was the green hair, and then the pair of concerned emerald eyes reflecting back at you. Under those were a set of freckles, giving him an overall boyish look, and finally- his costume. You recognized Japan’s Number One Hero, Deku.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt...or worse.” His tone was solemn. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave you alone up here. Clearly you had one purpose for coming up here, and I’m not going to let you go through with it.”

For a moment, you felt your heart soar at the possibility that someone cared after all. But just as hope was about to take root and bloom within your chest, it seemed that your mind had other ideas to cut the poor blossom out. As fast as the feeling settled, it was gone, and you reminded yourself that this was his job; he was required to help anyone who he thought might be in trouble. It wasn’t like he really wanted to be up here talking to you.

“What the hell do you know about why I’m up here? And anyways...it’s your job to save people. You don’t have to pretend to care about me. It doesn’t matter if you’re the number one hero or not, you’re still going to forget about me some day or another. A week from now you won’t even think twice about me. I’m forgettable. I don’t matter...not really. So please just leave me be. You’re bothering me.” No matter how hard you tried to keep the anger in your voice, you couldn’t help how it faded with each passing second. It was tiring to keep feeling everything and nothing all at once. You wanted it all to just stop.

There was long moment of silence that passed between the two of you, which you took as a sign that you had been right about everything you had just said. Your anxieties and nerves were starting to get to you by then; you were about to really go through with it and had inched forward slightly when he decided to speak again. 

“Once, someone told me to take a swan dive off the roof of my old school.” Your breath hitched as you stopped in your tracks. “I know what it’s like not to be wanted or needed by everyone around you. To feel like a failure, like there’s no hope left... Like you’re not worth saving. But even if you really think and believe all those things you said about yourself, just know that I care. And it’s not because it’s my job to, or because I’m a Pro Hero, or because I just happened to be in the area and saw you up here after my shift ended. It’s because at one point in my life, I could relate to where you are now.”

You were left without words for once as you stood there, wind whipping through your hair and eyes focused on nothing in particular. After the initial shock wore off, you finally turned around to face him. You searched his eyes for any trace of deception, anything to prove that maybe he was lying or just trying to get to you, but all you could find was sincere honesty. And Deku, upon seeing you turn around from the edge of the building, seemed to tense for a second before continuing.

“I climbed up to the top of the school roof that day and when I got up there, I just...stared down. All I could think about at the time was making the pain and the numbness go away. But then I thought of my mom’s face when she would hear the news...and I thought of how I would only be a statistic after that- a number, you know, like the ones I recorded every day in my notebook. But I didn’t want that. I had a name that I loved, a mother waiting for me at home, and a dream I was still holding on to. I realized what I really wanted was to prove everyone wrong, to still become the hero I wanted to be as a little boy. And even more than that, I just wanted the pain to stop. I think that’s what people truly want- just to feel better.” He gave you a small smile and offered a hand to you after that, and you swore his eyes were glistening a little if you looked close enough. “I would care if you were gone. I would think about it every day. I don’t even know your name, but your face is already engraved in my mind. I would have made the biggest mistake of my life had I ended things that day; look at where I am now! If I let someone else take away all their future opportunities and potential life experiences knowing that I could have stopped them, knowing that I didn’t offer them the support I desperately wanted when I was going through it, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“...you mean that?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice.

“Every word. Please, just come back over to this side and talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I promise I’ll do my best to help however I can.”

Something pulled at your heartstrings as you listened to him. He had put into words everything you had been feeling these past few months, everything you wanted to express but just couldn’t. Tentatively, you reached out a hand to meet his, and he wasted no time as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and hoisted you back over the railing towards safety and into his arms.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out. His arm was still wound tight around your waist as he pulled you flush to him and walked you backwards. When the two of you reached the wall of the entryway to the rooftop, he stopped and slid down to the floor with you, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lips. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again.” You blinked back tears as you leaned into Deku’s tight hug, your arms coming up to wrap around him as well. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so loving and caring with you or the last time you had been hugged like this. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

That was all it took for the dam inside of you to burst.

Hot tears finally spilled over and soaked Deku’s costume as all the emotions you had been suppressing came back full force. You hid your face in his shirt to try and stifle your cries as much as you could, but it was no use. There was no hiding the turmoil in your soul; all you could do was endure the sadness and frustration while he held you and comforted you. Slowly the reality of the situation started to sink in, and the realization that you almost took your own life hit you full force.

“I...I almost-!” You didn’t have the strength to finish your sentence as you sobbed harder and shook in the hero’s arms. He eventually shifted the two of you around to a more comfortable position and rubbed circles on your shoulder soothingly while you cried, a look of understanding and empathy in his eyes.

“But you didn’t. And you know what that tells me? That despite all those lies you’re telling yourself, there’s still a part of you left that wants to live. There’s still a part of you, no matter how small, that’s holding on to hope that things will get better. Find that feeling deep down inside you, grasp it, and never let go of it. You deserve to exist here. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to wake up each day and live and enjoy life. And I know you probably don’t feel that way right now, but believe me when I say that it’s the truth.” A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you took a moment to contemplate his words.

“You said we could talk if I wanted to...” you sniffled.

“Sure, we can talk. It doesn’t even have to be about anything in particular. Whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen.”

So you told him everything. You poured your heart out to someone who was no more than a stranger to you, even if you recognized his face because it was plastered on every poster and broadcasted on every T.V. Even if you knew who Deku was, the person behind the mask was someone else entirely, and it brought a sense of comfort to you to know that a real person was listening to your troubles and caring about them. For once, someone was taking the time to make you a priority, and that was not something you were used to.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of listening to me by now. I can’t believe I dumped all of that on y-” you tried to apologize, but he shook his head and cut you off before you could finish.

“Don’t be. I offered, didn’t I? I genuinely want to hear about what’s troubling you. Everyone deserves to be listened to, especially when they’re hurting. You’re important, and what you have to say is also important. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You blinked up at him with wide eyes. How was he so good at this? A thought crossed your mind then, and you wondered for a brief moment if...had anyone ever listened to him? He had taken the time to calm you down and make you feel important by listening wholeheartedly to everything you had to say. The least you could do was return the favor, right?

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good listener?” you asked, a small but sincere smile on your face.

“Yes, actually. Plenty of times, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. It just means I’m succeeding at making others feel important, which is what I aim to do, so thank you for that.” He stared up at the night sky, his eyes reflecting the sparkling stars above. They were...so full of life. You found that fact inspiring.

There was a small pause before you asked him another question, hesitance evident in your voice. “Have you...told anyone? About what you said to me earlier, I mean.” It came out more awkward than you intended it to, and he seemed confused about what you were trying to ask.

“About what I said to you earlier?”

“Y-You know, the...rooftop...” you trailed off, not wanting to pry if he didn’t want to talk about it after all. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed since you mentioned it earlier that maybe you wanted to talk about it or something- Ah, I’m making things worse, I’m really sorry!” You ran your hands through your hair, anxiety getting the better of you and making your heart race. Deku shifted slightly beside you but kept his arm around your shoulders, a look of understanding coming over him.

“Oh, that?” He gave a small airy laugh. “While I appreciate the concern, I have a really great therapist. It’s kind of a requirement for Pros; we deal with a lot on the job.”

“...oh.” Oh. Oh. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but certainly not...that. “Again, I’m sorry if I pried,” you apologized one last time. At the sound of your third ‘I’m sorry’, Deku looked over at you thoughtfully.

“You know, I used to apologize a lot too. Actually, my therapist was the one who got me to kick the bad habit. Speaking of which...” He reached into one of the red pouches on his costume belt and produced a single card between his index and middle finger, the lamination of it emitting a dim glare as he held it out to you. “I think you could really benefit from therapy. I’m not saying that to be rude or anything-!” His face flushed as he tried to explain himself; he didn’t want you to feel like he was dismissing you or that he wasn’t concerned with your issues. “I swear! I just...really think you could use another person in your corner right now. They’re super nice, I promise! I’ll even help you set up an appointment if you want.”

You shrunk a little at the idea of seeing a therapist, but took the card anyway. The writing on the little piece of plastic stared back at you menacingly, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your gut.

Dr. T/N T/L/N Deku Agency Specialist in Psychology Phone: 800-888-8880 Email (Mon-Fri): T/nT/l/n@deku.agencies.com Office Hours: Mon-Sat, 9am-5pm

As if he could read your turbulent mind, Deku pulled you closer and rested his head against yours. “I know talking to someone else about your problems seems scary at first, but it really helps. If you keep everything bottled up, then those feelings and problems don’t have anywhere to go, and they’ll eat you up on the inside. Therapy gives you a safe way of letting those feelings out and sorting through problems in healthy ways. Of course it’s ultimately your choice, and everybody’s experience differs...but it did help me.”

You considered everything he said, including his offer to help schedule an appointment. If nothing else, you could really use another friend... You pocketed the card and decided to worry about it later; exhaustion was starting to settle in by now, and the air only seemed to get colder by the minute. It had to be past midnight by now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. It means a lot to me, truly. I’ll...think about the therapist.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. But in the mean time, can I see your phone?” The question caught you off guard and forced you back to the reality of where you were, and what you’d planned to do earlier.

“Uh, well...” you started, “I left it in my apartment. I didn’t think I’d need it up here since... Anyway, I don’t have it on me.” You stared off to the side, not wanting to talk about the subject any longer.

“Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, actually, I live in this apartment building.”

“Oh! Then, I’ll walk with you back to your apartment, since it’s getting kind of cold now. But first...” He whipped out his own phone, opening the contacts app and clicking on the ‘Create New Contact’ option. “What’s your phone number?”

“My phone number?” You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, so I can text you and call you. I’d like to be friends, if that’s okay?” He gave you a shy smile with a faint blush, and it was hard not to burst into tears again.

A friend. You had made a new friend. One that cared about you, that wanted to make sure you were okay, that would put in time and effort to talk to you and see you. You could hardly believe it.

“Really?”

“Of course! Sooo, can I have it, then? Oh, and I guess I’ll need your name at some point too, huh?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“It’s Y/N,” you stated happily.

You immediately gave your number to him, and then the two of you stood to go back inside. He helped you up and held the door open for you, and from there you took the stairs back to your apartment. You made small talk on the way back, and things finally started to feel normal to you for once. But as soon as you turned down the hall that led to your apartment door, you started to feel it; that familiar sinking feeling was creeping in, apathy and the sense of nothingness overwhelming you again. The night was finally coming to an end. You would go back to your apartment, and things would go back to normal, and Deku would probably forget that you even existed. He said he would text, but would he really? He was so busy with hero work, and you half expected things to go back to the way they would be. What if nothing changed? What if you went back to feeling numb? What if everything that happened tonight didn’t really matter? What would you do?

“Whoah, Y/N, slow down. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Huh? Shit! Had you said all that out loud?

You panicked as you stared at your door. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Hey, look at me.” He cupped your face between his hands, tilting your head up to meet his concerned gaze. “Everything will be okay. But these kinds of problems don’t just disappear over night, they need time, and sometimes some outside help from others. I promise to keep in touch with you. I want to make sure you’re okay, and I’d like to get to know you better too. Maybe I can introduce you to my friends? They’re really great people, and they would make you feel right at home. But for now, let’s just focus on one thing, okay? Let’s get you settled back into your apartment for the night.” He ruffled the top of your head softly, and while others might have taken the gesture as offensive or belittling, you were just glad to have felt his warm touch.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and you twisted the handle to the door, which you remembered you had left unlocked.

The small apartment greeted you with familiar darkness, that is, until Deku flipped your light switch and the few lamps you had lit up the living room. He let himself in and shut the door behind the two of you, earning a surprised look from you and giving you an apologetic look of his own. ���I don’t mean to intrude...I just...” He looked like he was choking over his own words. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let you be alone right now...but if you want me to leave, then-”

“I don’t want to be alone either,” you were quick to cut him off. You had wanted to invite him to stay, but you also didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, it seemed like he beat you to the punch. “I don’t mind you staying. Besides, it’s late, and you look tired. The couch pulls out into a bed; let me get you some extra blankets.” 

You tried your best to be hospitable, even with him insisting that you didn’t need to and that he could just crash in the comfy clothes he wore under his costume. You didn’t have any extra clothes for him, but at least you could give him a pillow and a blanket. As you went to fetch those, you also grabbed your phone from your desk and dropped it next to him on the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of entering his phone number and his real name into your contacts before passing it back.

“No way, you like All Might too?” he asked as you handed him the themed blanket. “This is the same exact blanket I have at home!” A wide grin came over him as he cuddled into it.

His enthusiasm made you laugh a little as you tossed him the pillow. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You started to walk away to your bedroom, and as you were about to turn the lights out, he stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Did you need something?”

He peeked his head over the edge of the couch. “I just realized I never gave you my name. You can call me Izuku, if you want. Since, we’re friends now, and all.”

“Izuku,” you echoed, “I’m really glad I met you.” And you meant it.

“Yeah, me too.” A moment of silence. “That I met you, I mean! I’m glad I met you too!”

You smiled and turned the lights out. “I’m gonna head to bed.” You hesitated a bit to ask him the question burning at the back of your mind, but your anxiety forced you to ask anyway, the fear of not knowing eating at you. “Will you still be here tomorrow morning?”

He answered you right away and gave you a reassuring look. “I’m off work tomorrow, and I don’t have any plans, so I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me to.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Izuku.” 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding for so long, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom and changed into your favorite pajamas. The card that Izuku had given you earlier dropped to the floor while you were changing, and you picked it up carefully before reading it over again. Maybe...it was worth a shot. You had a lot you were dealing with, and the idea that you could talk to someone about it without being judged or made fun of almost sounded too good to be true. Sure, you had Izuku now, but you knew realistically he wasn’t going to be around all the time. You were tired of feeling like you were always alone, tired of feeling everything and nothing all at once, tired in general. It was all so exhausting. And he had said the therapist was nice...

You crawled into bed with your phone and pulled the covers over yourself. The home screen lit up the room as you opened your contacts and scrolled, looking for one name in particular. You tapped on his name and the familiar conversation screen appeared, the little vertical line blinking at you repeatedly as you worked up the courage to type out your message. Finally, your fingers flew across the keys, and you hit send before you could think twice about it.

Y/N: I think I want to schedule an appointment with the therapist. Can you help? 1:34am

It didn’t take long for you to get a response.

Izuku: Of course. I can contact them tomorrow, if you’d like? 1:34am

Y/N: I’d like that a lot. Thank you, Izuku. 1:35am

Izuku: Are you alright? If you need anything, come get me. I won’t mind. 1:35am

Y/N: I really appreciate that. I’m doing a little better. I’ll let you know if I need something. 1:35am

Izuku: Promise? 1:35am

Y/N: I promise. 1:36am

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

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But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.