#Auto window tracking

[ranidspace]

Firefox v120!

New copy link without site tracking feature: removes the tracking at the end of urls usually that end with "?=[long ass string of numbers or info on your browser or how you clikced the link]" previously an optional feature of ublock origin to remove it as you go to sites, but now you can also copy links as well

New "Tell websites not to sell or share my data" option in privacy settings. Websites have no obligation to do this, except under GDPR which is most sites. adds a bit to your fingerprintability, however if everyone turns this on it will work better for everyone.

Firefox is rolling-out Cookie Banner Blocker by default in private windows for users in Germany during the coming weeks. Firefox will now auto-refuse cookies and dismiss annoying cookie banners for supported sites.

you can set "cookiebanners.service.mode" to 2 to automatically refuse cookies and have them stop asking you about it. While it's also an optional feature of ublock origin, this might work better

Firefox has enabled URL Tracking Protection by default in private windows for all users in Germany. Firefox will remove non-essential URL query parameters that are often used to track users across the web.

Not sure how to turn this on in settings (this is also an optional ublock feature, these don't hurt to stack) but once again removes the tracking at the end of urls telling you how the link was shared and how you got there

Firefox cares about your privacy and is making the internet a safer place from corporations. Do your part and download it today

[esstxys]

𝐻 𝒲 𝒜 𝒩 𝒢 𝐻 𝒴 𝒰 𝒩 𝒥 𝐼 𝒩 - canvas.

warnings : smut, messy sex, other than that it's vanilla, fem!reader, a little(?) plot, pet names, lighthearted jokes, slight embarrassment at the end.

summary : on a slow morning, you find your boyfriend quietly painting, little did you know how much just sitting next to him would turn it into.

“what the fuck..” you muttered under your breath, you tried to open your eyes, but they were so, so heavy.

your room was completely dark besides the light peering out from behind the blackout curtains.

you tried to shift your position in bed, turning away from your window.

you tried to ignore the light.

but it was so bright, and all you wanted was at least a humble one hour more of sleep.

you needed to block the light, but you didn't feel like putting a pillow over your head and risking suffocation, so with heavy eyes you aimlessly groped around the bed for your boyfriend's arm.

you let out an almost silent string of curse words as you shift around once more to reach for him.

instead of his soft skin responding to your touch by sweeping you up into a warm embrace, you feel the cold comforter on your fingertips.

you grabbed a fistful of the mattress in frustration and let out a long sigh.

so it was one of those mornings.

one of those mornings where you had to get out of your warm cocoon of blankets and walk your way all the way down the hallway just to see your boyfriend.

how do morning people do this?

-

eventually, you got out of bed and trudged down the hallway, a large blanket draped over your body.

your tired mind wandered to the thought of your boyfriend, more specifically, the thought of what he would be doing as you entered the kitchen.

would he be sitting cross legged on one of your dining room chairs, soft morning light illuminating his features, with a pencil in hand? or would he be waiting for you peacefully with a cup of coffee that has way too much sugar for your liking in it?

As you neared the kitchen, the thought of your boyfriend vanished as soon as you smelled the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

and as if the scent of coffee alone had just put you on auto pilot, you grabbed a mug, poured the coffee into it, added your creamer and sugar, and took a sip.

you sighed a sigh of relief as soon as you licked the remaining smoky taste of coffee off of your lips.

this action, though, reminded you of your boyfriend.

your boyfriend who would lick his lips before he gave you a kiss.

you boyfriend whom you had just realized wasn't behind you, sitting at the dining room table.

you think to yourself for a moment, shrug, and grab your coffee.

being the kind of guy he is, you think he’s probably just on the toilet, so you bee-line for your bedroom, cold feet shuffling against the wooden floor.

as you walk down the hallway, coffee making you more alert of your surroundings, you pass hyujins art room, where he just so happens to be in a knee-tucked squat on floor, staring down at an almost blank canvas.

how did you not notice him before?

you stop dead in your tracks and lean on the doorframe

you pause for a moment and look at your boyfriend, who is clearly aware of your presence, but keeps his attention on the canvas below him.

“have you been in here this whole time?” you question.

he finally looks up at you, his messy hair flailing to the side as he does so.

“well good morning to you too my beautiful girlfriend,” he draws his words out sarcastically.

you roll your eyes and take your place on the floor next to him. you rest your arm on his shoulder and place your head on top of it.

hyunjin lays his head on yours, his hair is soft against your skin.

“goodmorning” you mumble, switching roles with him as your eyes are on his canvas and his eyes are now on you.

he smiles and sighs in appreciation as he finally gets the good morning from you that he was waiting for.

“happy? now answer my question.” you whisper as you move your arm away from his shoulder and instead to the back of his neck where you play with his hair.

“mhm” he looks you in the eyes lovingly and signals for you to pass him a larger paintbrush

“and no, I wasn’t in here the whole time, I was taking a shit.”

“yup, I figured.” you chuckle lightly to yourself and pass him the paint brush he was asking for with your free hand.

he dips the brush into a fresh can of soft pink paint and lathers it on the canvas. wanting to give him more room to work , you take your arm off of him and lay on the floor next to the canvas.

“what are you painting today hyunnie?” you ask, your words full of genuine curiosity.

“hmm,” he pauses to look around and his eyes stop on his final destination.

you.

“probably the girl in front of me.” he says casually.

“wow, I wonder who that could be” you exclaim, letting yet another small laugh escape your lips. you look around the room at the dozens of other oil paintings, acrylic paintings, and sketches this man has of you.

does he not get sick of it?

“tell me more,” you pause, "i want to hear more about this girl you are painting."

expecting him to take your words as a joke, your eyebrows raise as he replies.

"well, this girl is kind of a mess," he looks up at you with a smile, knowing you would react to this.

you shoot him a deadly look, and in response he laughs and continues, "she's the good kind of a mess, though, like a mess in which everything is placed strategically. an abstract painting, if you will."

you still couldn't tell where he was going with this.

"she's always running late, always talking with her hands like the story wont land unless she acts out every detail. she also makes fun of me constantly, with a small grin that means she has already won,"

he applies more paint to the canvas.

"and i let her do it, too. it's the small things about her that pull me in. the way she tugs my sleeves when she wants something, the way she leans into me like I'm something solid."

you look at him intently as he continues to speak.

"then there are times when she gets quiet, her voice drops just enough for me to notice it, and she gets closer. her eyes lock on mine, and she's more than likely thinking about something she definitely won't say out loud. she stops being chaos and starts being sharper and slower, in a way that it makes it hard for me to breathe,"

you are sitting up at this point, full attention given to the boy who sat Infront of you.

"she always knows exactly what she's doing. the way she touches me, the way her fingers slide under my shirt like its nothing. like she's done it one hundred times, and she will do it one hundred times more. simple actions like bringing her lips to my neck, asking for more than what 100 words could."

his brush strokes were almost as drawn out and slow as his words now.

maybe hyunjin was right, because as you moved Infront of him, that single action said 1000 more things than words could have.

his hands roped around your waist, your back arching into the touch.

your mouth found his and although you were tired, the kiss was anything but that. it was hungry, messy. a kiss that said the two of you had been holding back for way too long.

hyunjin groaned low in his throat when your fingers slipped back into his hair, tugging just hard enough to break something in him.

you tasted like everything he wanted; a taste he would continue to chase his entire life if he had to.

and this made him go crazy.

you moaned as his fingers slipped under your shirt, taking it off in one swift motion.

your nipples hardened as the met the cold air, which shot you back into reality.

the reality in which you and your boyfriend were about to fuck with a wet painting behind the both of you.

your boyfriend took his lips off of yours and moved to your neck, gently biting it.

"hyunnie.." it was hard for you to talk between the pleasure you were feeling.

"hyunnie..mpph- we should move so we don't ruin your.. painting" you finally breathed out.

"relax, baby.." he cooed.

he reached his arm behind you to offer more support, presumably so he could move the canvas easier.

right?

wrong.

"ack-!"

you felt your body lower onto the cold paint of the canvas, your spine shivering at the foreign sensation.

had hyunjin meant to do this?

"hyunjin- ah! theres paint all over my back-"

"shh, i know"

you shot him an extremely puzzled look.

"its okay, we can both paint today."

did you hear him right?

yeah.

you did.

because it was the hottest thing you've heard him say.

-

“mm..” hyunjin hums to himself in delight as he thumbs your clit, rubbing the base of it slowly up and down, giving you almost enough friction

your legs were sprawled out as far as they could go, so far that your middle calves and below were no longer on the canvas.

hyunjin saw this as a problem and removed his hand from your clit. how could he capture his whole art peice if it wasnt on the painting?

he bent his arm back to position your legs onto the canvas in the formation which he pleased.

and obviously, he uses this opportunity to tease you.

so he takes his time doing this,

and you become restless.

"hyunjin.. please.." you say softly as you look at his aching cock, which is just sitting inside of you, unmoving.

your pussy was begging for more stimulation, and you could tell his cock was, too.

but teasing you like this and hearing your pleading whines was enough for him

"hm..? did you say something?" he finishes positioning your legs and gazes into your glossed-over eyes after an excruciatingly long time.

"please.." you plead, still waiting for him to move, "i need more."'

you grab his wrist which holds its place on the canvas, adding a deep blue handprint to the painting.

your pussy is practically aching in yearning, but your boyfriend just loves to tease you.

“hm? you want it that much? you need me to thrust into that badly?” you nod feverishly as your legs subconsciously spread wider.

hyunjin shoots you a glare at this action, a glare which reminds you that you need to keep your body on the canvas.

which is hard when his cock is halfway in you.

he removes his hand from its place on the canvas and moves it to your ass instead, giving himself more support as he finally thrusts into you with a small groan.

this earns a soft moan and a string of "yesyesyesyes!"'s from you.

hyunjin looks you in the eyes as he thrusts slowly and deeply into you.

you savor every moment of this, clenching around him every time he hits that perfect spot deep in your pussy.

you look him back in the eyes, yet your gaze still trails down to his juicy lips.

he takes note of this and grins, bringing two fingers under your chin and leaning down into yet another deep kiss.

his thrusts become faster as he continues. you subconsciously draw shapes on his back with your fingertips, and he hums at the sensation.

you break the kiss by throwing your head back.

he chuckles at your inability to keep your composure when he makes his thrusts just a little faster.

your body quivers and trembles, breaths escaping as hyunjin kisses on your neck.

your reactions only feul his desire to speed up his pace even more.

“hold’on baby.. fuck!” you exclaim, your fingers now putting more intense pressure onto his back.

hyunjin brings his head up to capture the sight infront of him you bring his head right back down to kiss him.

the quick and needy peck turned into a deep kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth as your tongue entangles with his, as the two of you fight for domination.

you kiss deeper to catch hyunjin off guard, leaving him to gasp for air, as if the pace he is thrusting it isnt already leaving him breathless enough.

you smiling into the kiss immediately turns into you breaking it off with a moan.

hyunjin is once more circling his thumb around your clit while he fucks even deeper into you, and he cant help but let a moan elicit itself out as he does so.

you fling your head back as he touches all the right places, thighs shaking with need as you can only take what’s been given.

“making me feel so fucking good, god.. so f-fucking pretty, so fucking perfect,” hyunjin breathes out, you knew he was getting close.

he can never control his mouth when he is about to cum.

and on the contrary, you cant control your actions when you're about to cum.

actions fueled with pleasure; you whip your bodies upwards and hold onto hyunjins back.

he thrusts into you, and you jerk your hips towards him, lewd sounds echoing through the room as you do so.

body filling with electricity, you push is cock as deep into your pussy as you can, which tips the two of you over the edge,

hyunjin cums deep inside of you, huffing hot moans and words of pleasure into your ear.

you let out one final moan as you felt him fill your pussy up.

"fuck- i love you so much, baby."

your breath is deep, but slows as you come down from your high.

"this will be the prettiest painting ive ever made," he moves around and you whine from the overstimulation of his cock still deep inside of you.

he kisses you, and then corrects himself.

"this will be the prettiest painting we've ever made."

-

fast forward: three days later.

you've come to the recording studio to support your boyfriend and his members, the thought of the lewd painting pushed far back in your brain. you haven't even seen the canvas around the house.

-

"hi!" changbin greets you with a smile, and you smile back.

you go find you place on the couch next to minho while your boyfriend continues talking about god knows what with his friends.

"hi lee know," you give him a friendly smile before scanning the room.

"hi! how have you and hyunjin been doing? still thinking about getting a cat? i can give you a lot of tips..."

and that's when you noticed it.

the painting.

hanging in his bands record studio of all places?

"hey, are you listening?" lee know questioned, trying to figure out what you were looking at, until he noticed too.

"oh, yeah. the painting hyunjin made for you. he said you knew. why are you surprised?" lee know looked over at your shoulder, looking at hyunjin for some guidance.

"no.. trust me i know.." you trailed off, lost in thought until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

it was hyunjin.

"guys, what do you think of the painting?" he adressed all 7 of the other guys in the room.

"its really abstract," chan said

"like a good abstract, though." added changbin, who had his pointer finger lifted.

"yeah youve never made a painting like this one before." felix chimed in, touching the side of it.

the sight made you wince, but hyunjin was enjoying every second of this.

he rubbed your shoulder and smiled as he looked down at you.

oh he was so going to regret this.

first time writing in 11 months, dont go too hard on me! - also not proofread, sorry. :p

hope you enjoyed nonetheless.

[rainrot4me]

Odd idea, proxies as tutors? What would their subject be?

So cute!! Welcome to Slender High, folks. Might’ve went a little crazy with this one.

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer ➝ coach woods

P.E. / Health class.

Gym/Health Class. An extracurricular, but somehow still mandatory. He also coaches the baseball team.

The chaotic hot substitute energy. Always wearing a hoodie with the school’s mascot, sunglasses indoors, probably chewing on a toothpick.

“Alright losers, five laps, and if I see you walking, I’m calling your mom.”

He somehow turns dodgeball into mortal combat and makes health class 80% stories about near-death experiences and how to reset your own nose.

Probably shows a video on CPR and then says, “Now forget that, here’s how you really do it.”

Kids love him. Teachers fear him. The nurse hates him. And yes, he did have to teach Sex-ed. It was traumatic for everyone.

✦ . ticci toby ➝ mr. rogers

Woodshop / Auto mechanic Tech

Woodshop & small engine repair.

Looks constantly disheveled but knows exactly what he’s doing. Calls you “kid” even if you’re older than him.

“You cut your hand? Sick. Lemme see.”

Surprisingly patient with students and very good at explaining with his hands. Loud power tools soothe him. All the troublemakers sit in his class for lunch.

Keeps forgetting he’s not supposed to swear.

Will give you a project to build a birdhouse and then disappear for twenty minutes only to come back with a full crossbow.

✦ . eyeless jack ➝ dr. nyras

Biology / Anatomy

Advanced Biology & Human Anatomy. Both honors.

That freakishly calm, soft-spoken teacher who you don’t want to piss off. Wears gloves at all times.

“Today we’ll be dissecting fetal pigs. Please refrain from vomiting on your lab partners.”

He talks about organs with way too much enthusiasm. Will give you full marks for effort and curiosity, but will also deduct points for making squeamish faces.

Nobody’s brave enough to ask where he gets the extra specimens.

Has an endless supply of black coffee and leaves the room colder than any other on campus. There are definitely rumors circulating that he is secretly a cult member.

✦ . masky (tim wright) ➝ mr. wright

History.

American & World History. But specifically World War II and awesome battle retellings.

Burnt out, deadpan, but wildly intelligent. Could teach the class hungover and still make it captivating. The kind of homework you could turn in a blank document and somehow still get a 100.

“History’s just war, ego, and bad ideas. Let’s begin.”

Will go on 30-minute tangents about conspiracy theories but somehow ties it back to the curriculum every time.

Wears the same cardigan three days in a row. Still smells like parchment paper and cologne.

Doesn’t grade your paper, just leaves cryptic comments like “The empire always strikes back. B+.”

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas) ➝ mr. thomas

Photography / Media Arts

Photography, Film Studies, Journalism. Has published his own book and reads from it daily.

Quiet, intense, incredibly observant. Wears all black. Always has a camera or notepad.

“Art should make you uncomfortable. That’s how you know it’s real.”

He gives very detailed feedback on creative work but refuses to compliment directly.

Shows weird documentaries and calls it “inspiration.” However, people are falling asleep left and right.

You catch him staring out windows or filming empty hallways. Nobody knows where he goes during lunch.

✦ . kate the chaser ➝ coach milens-hayes

Debate / Track Coach

Debate, Current Events / Track Coach.

Tactical jacket, heavy boots, hair tied back. No-nonsense, all intensity. Lives off of making kids nervous.

“Speak like you mean it, or sit down.”

Coaches you like a soldier: brutal honesty, high expectations, but genuine pride when you succeed.

Has you running mental laps just as much as physical ones.

Won’t admit she cares about her students, but she shows up to every event and stays late to help you prep. First to get to the field and last to leave, always making sure it’s in tip-top shape.

✦ . ben drowned ➝ mr. b

Computer Science / Game Design

Coding, Game Development, Hacking 101.

Hoodie pulled up, Monster can in hand, sits on top of the desk like a menace.

“Anyone touches my gaming rig and dies. Let’s boot Unity.”

Encourages cheating “if you’re smart enough to not get caught.”

Replaces your cursor with a meme. Has every shortcut known to man memorized. Practically speaks in HTML code.

Once programmed a jumpscare into the school website for fun.

✦ . clockwork ➝ dr. ouellette

Psychology

Intro to Psych, Criminal Behavior, Criminal Justice.

Cool older sister energy. Heels, eyeliner, slightly intimidating but smells amazing. Dresses like a lawyer.

“Let’s talk about what trauma does to the brain. Yes, again.”

Talks casually about serial killers and makes it sound like reading a cookbook. Always starts class by pulling up the town’s news articles to see if there’s been any murders.

Students either have a crush on her or fear her (usually both).

Never lets you slack off. Encourages you to journal and process your emotions even though she never does. Snatches phones like it’s a hobby.

✦ . laughing jack ➝ mr. lj

Theater / Creative Writing

Theater & Creative Lit. He likes to multitask his teaching.

Always wearing eccentric scarves, multicolored pants, and glitter eyeshadow. Calls everyone “darling.”

“Today we’re expressing grief through mime. Yes, you have to participate. No, it doesn’t have to be good.”

Encourages absurd ideas with wild enthusiasm. Will show up with sock puppets and expect you to act out King Lear. Art is whatever you can get away with in his class.

Gives strange but insightful writing prompts like “Describe your first heartbreak in the style of a horror movie.”

Students adore him. Admin tries to fire him every year. They can’t catch him. He once got a hateful letter from a parent and acted it out in front of the class with props.

✦ . nina the killer + jane everlasting ➝ mrs. hopkins + ms. richardson

Cosmetology + Home Ec

Duo teachers who co-teach Home economics and Cosmetology / Personal Care.

One side is sleek, black, hyper-organized. The other is hot pink chaos with glitter stickers on everything. The energy is immaculate. Their outfits reflect that.

Nina is your cool chaotic older sister who shows up with a matcha and false lashes at 8 a.m. and somehow makes it work. Nail art, extreme glam, wigs, special FX gore makeup (where she thrives—suspiciously too good with blood effects).

“Blend like your ex just saw you at Target, babes.”

Jane is strong, composed, elegant—but always one thread away from snapping. Always in black. The only one in the building who can get the lunchroom to shut up just by walking in. Knife skills, holistic skincare, sewing/repair, and self-defense baked into everything.

“No, you may not use glitter glue in your soufflé.”

Enemies to reluctant co-workers who constantly roast each other but would absolutely murder anyone else who tried to do the same. Nina walks in late with Starbucks and Jane says “You’re late.” Nina replies, “Your mascara’s uneven.”

The class becomes the spot for gossip, life lessons, and oddly effective therapy. Students worship them both. Their arguments are like watching two queens from rival kingdoms argue over who gets the last bit of land.

✦ . slenderman ➝ principal s

Principal / Philosophy

Technically the principal, but hosts one elite seminar class on ethics and metaphysics that only the honors students are allowed to attend.

Wears suits so sharp they could cut time. You can hear his presence before you see him. Definitely has a lanyard with keys you can hear from two hallways away.

“You are not here to learn. You are here to remember.”

Speaks in riddles, never uses a whiteboard, and grades on an unknowable system. Heaven help if you’re called into his office for disciple, you won’t come out the same.

Everyone is scared of him. Everyone respects him. Rumor is he doesn’t walk—he glides. He buys the faculty’s lunch every Friday, but that doesn’t make them any less nervous around him.

You leave his class every time feeling like your brain got wrung out and kissed on the forehead.

꩜ .ᐟ

[revelboo]

He's here! A little shaken but in great condition! Another fun assembly~

I love the tiny mega vehicle...

Another TFO Star! My tracking fell off the face of the earth 4 days ago 🥲 He’s somewhere.

But aaaaaah!

No Strings Pt 2

Rainmakers x Reader

• Sliding you down into the box with the rest of your supplies since he’s almost sure you can’t climb back out, he heads back to his own transport ship. Can hear you chirping at him from inside the box, distressed at not being able to see out? “Sorry, but I’m busy right now,” he murmurs. Because he’s not sure he can pilot, keep a hold of you, and suppress his outlier abilities all at once. Not entirely sure what his toxic nature might do to something as soft as you are, but he can’t imagine it’d be good. Hears you rattling around in the box, chirping insistently and he reaches to tip the box, startling you as you slide, indignant eyes staring up at him when he fishes out Swindle’s little bottle and subspaces it so you don’t get into it by accident.

• Listening to the big monster grumble at you, his voice is low and gruff when he reaches back in and rubs a servo against your jaw. And the urge to swat him is there, but staying on his good side seems like a good idea for your continued survival. Stumbling when he withdraws his hand and the box rocks back down flat, you find and yank a blanket free to wrap around yourself, turning your attention on the rest of the stuff. And holy crap, is that a fun sized bag of Reese’s cups? Your captor had been force feeding you gray, tasteless bars and water. And he’d had candy the whole time? Another reason to hate him. Ripping open the package, you stuff one in your mouth and start digging through the rest of the supplies.

• Setting the ship on auto once he’s free of Swindle’s ship, he looks in on you and stifles a growl. Because he’d left you alone for barely a klik and you’d gotten into your training treats. Big eyes stare innocently up at him as you chirp your sweet nonsense at him and shove another treat in your mouth. So much for not handling you. Scooping you up, he shifts you to a thigh, gently tugging at the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself and you tug back, giving up when he almost lifts you off your feet trying to get it away from you. Little shoulders hunching when he brushes a servo against soft skin, examining you. “I can’t believe Cybertronians are fragging you guys,” he says, venting softly. “You’re too fragile for that, aren’t you?” Tapping his servo against you to make you chirp and grab him. Of course, you’re just a gift. A little pet to hopefully distract Nova from his new duties. And the restrictions placed on their whole Trine as high-risk former Decepticons. Peace or no peace, outliers are an endangered species now. Monitored and tracked. Controlled. Touching the little leash dangling from your harness, he carefully unhooks it and you look from it to him. “I don’t like being caged or bound, either.”

• Deciding he’s not going to molest you, you turn and crane your neck toward the control panel. Breath catching when you see the window above you and the huge world you’re approaching. That’s not earth. You’d guessed that you’d been beamed up, that they were aliens, but having it confirmed sends tremors through you. How far from home are you? How can you get back when they can’t understand you? He’d taken the harness off, though and you flinch when he drapes your blanket over your head. Aware that those red optics are watching as you wrap it around yourself, because you’re so sick of being cold and naked.

• Head resting in his hand, Nova Storm scrolls through the list of rules and restrictions being levied on his trine. At least they’re not being outright imprisoned, but this isn’t really a lot better. Hearing the door to their shared habsuite opening, he vents. “We’re to report for monitoring implants within the next solar cycle,” he calls out, head lifting to see if it’s Ion Storm or Acid Storm returning. “Where were you?” Because sneaking off now? If it was noticed, their energon allotment will be cut. Again.

• “I thought we needed something to liven up our habsuite,” Acid Storm murmurs, shifting the box with you in it in his hands. He’d been toying with names the trip back, finally settling on Rain Storm since you’re as soft as rain. Hoping the name will help endear you to Nova as part of their trine, because they need something. Their purpose, their hopes and even their freedom slowly being stripped away. Watching Nova’s optics narrow, he reaches in and pulls you out, setting you on your tiny feet on the desk and Nova leans back with a frown. “It’s cute right? I named it Rain Storm.”

• There’s another one, almost identical to the big green one who’d taken you, but almost a burnished golden color. Twins? Can giant, alien robot monsters be twins? Looking from the new one to yours, it’s the frown on Goldie’s face that you fixate on. Because those alien faces are eerily human and you’re almost positive this one isn’t happy with you or Green. What happens to you if he won’t let Green keep you? Do you go back to the cage and the porn vids? Or do you just get turned loose on a strange alien world to fend for yourself. Terrified at that thought, you wonder closer to Goldie. Not knowing what they want from you, what’s expected, you reach and touch the back of his hand. “I really, really don’t want to go back to the cage,” you whisper, smiling weakly. “You’re warm.” Pressing your palms more firmly against him, because he’s a lot hotter to the touch than Green is.

• “Rain Storm,” Nova mutters, staring at those tiny little hands on his. And looking at his brother’s hopeful expression, there’s no denying him. You can’t be that much trouble. Chirping up at him, you bare tiny teeth at him in what almost looks unsettlingly like a smile. “Please tell me this thing isn’t sentient.” Relaxing when Acid shakes his head, because getting caught keeping another sentient as a pet? They’d lose what little freedom they have. “Alright, but you’re cleaning up after it.” Turning when Ion Storm returns, arms loaded with energon cubes and their brother pauses spotting the organic, wings lifting. “Come meet our new pet,” Nova says tiredly.

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[yxngbxkkie]

freak accident (b.c)

welcome to the third installment of mechanic!chris 🫢 i had thought of this idea the other day as a way to make it angsty but it's still pretty fucking cute 🤭 i do hope you guys enjoy it! ✨️mechanic chan for life✨️

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You're out shopping for dinner tonight when your phone starts to ring. You furrow your brows, wondering who it could be since Chris is working and Hyunjin's at an art exhibit.

An unknown number is printed on your screen, and you reluctantly answer it. “Hello?” You start walking through the aisles again, waiting for whomever is on the line.

“Hi, this is Dr. Brown at SNUH. Am I speaking to Y/N?” You stop in your tracks at the question, feeling your heart begin to race.

“Yeah, yeah, this is Y/N,” you say to him, moving to a more secluded area in the store.

You can hear the background noise of nurses trying to speak to him, only to be hushed. “I'm calling in regards to Chris. There's been a slight accident at his auto shop and was rushed over here,” he explains the situation.

“Is… is he okay?” You ask, your breathing picking up.

“He's stable. I can give you more information on what happened when you get here,” the doctor states.

You nod your head, abandoning your cart as you rush towards the main doors. “Okay, I'll be there as fast I can,” you mutter before he hangs up.

As you're almost running to your car, you take deep breaths to stop you from having a form of attack. Tears pool in your eyes, every scenario of what could have happened runs through your mind.

The drive to the hospital doesn't take very long, thankful that traffic is on your side today. You quickly lock your vehicle and rush inside, stopping in front of the admitting desk.

“Hi,” you're out of breath, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty. “I'm here to see Christopher Bang.”

The woman behind the desk nods and types in the patient's name. You tap your fingers against the desk, waiting for her to give you a room number.

“He's in room 203,” she tells you, making quick eye contact.

“Okay, thank you,” you mumble before walking over to the elevators. You take it up to the second floor, finding a sign to where 203 would be as soon as you step off.

You see a doctor and a nurse standing outside one of the rooms, finding out that it's Chris’ room. You walk closer to the pair, capturing the attention of the nuse.

She nudges the doctor, motioning her head in your direction. You clasp your fingers together as you make eye contact with Dr. Brown. “Y/N, yes?” He asks, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Yes, hi,” you greet him with a bow, shaking the older man's hand. Your gaze flickers toward the small window in the door, seeing Chris lying on the hospital bed. “What happened?”

The doctor releases a deep breath. “He was working on a vehicle when it fell from the lift,” he starts, earning a gasp from you. “Thankfully, he wasn't completely under it and that he's quick on his feet. The situation could've been worse. He broke his left leg in two places.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter while stepping up to the door.

Dr. Brown gently rests one of his hands on your shoulders, reassuring you. “He'll be okay. The surgery went well. He had a couple of plates and screws put in. It'll somewhat be a long road to recovery,” he mentions.

“Is there anything he'll need to do?” You ask, tucking some hair behind your ears.

“There will be some follow-up appointments with orthopedics. But, that won't be for a few weeks. I'll have our nurse write down instructions you'll need for the healing process.”

You nod your head before opening the door. Both the doctor and nurse decide to let you have a moment with Chris alone. You gently shut the door behind you and walk over to the chair next to his bed.

Your eyes look at the cast on his leg, seeing that it's almost up to his knee. A frown, etches itself on your lips as you place your hand on his. You let out a couple of deep breaths, squeezing his hand in yours.

“I'm glad that it's only a broken leg,” you say out loud, not talking to anyone. You bring his hand closer to you, kissing the back of it softly.

Chris’ upper body stirs, making your movements halt. You watch his eyes slowly flutter open, squinting at the bright lights. He releases a tired groan, tilting his head towards you.

“Y/N?” He calls out your name, making your heart flutter.

You scoot closer to the bed and squeeze his hand. “I'm here,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear.

He smiles at you while lacing your fingers together. “I'm so happy to see you,” Chris mutters, turning his head again before closing his eyes.

“I'm happy to see you too, baby. I'm glad you're okay,” you mention, standing up from your chair.

You keep your hands intertwined and bring your free hand to his forehead. You brush the hair out of his face, listening to him hum continuously.

“I don't know what happened,” he mentions, smiling at the touch of your fingers. “It all happened so fast.”

“It's okay. The only thing that matters is that you're alive,” you state before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

A knock on the door captures both of your attention. The nurse from before walks in with a sheet of paper. “This is everything he'll need to do during recovery and the appointments he'll have,” she says to you while handing you the paper.

You grab a hold of it, your thumb stroking the back of his hand as you read through it. “Okay, thank you,” you smile at her, setting the paper on the table beside you. “When is he being discharged?”

“He's all set now. There's a wheelchair and a pair of crutches right outside the door,” she informs you before leaving.

“Chris, baby,” you softly call out his name, watching him open his eyes again. “Do you want to stay at my place during recovery?”

He tilts his head towards you and shakes his head. “You live on the fourth floor,” he mumbles, causing you to chuckle. “I live on the first floor. You can stay at my place. I also have a spare bedroom you can use.”

You laugh some more, combing your fingers through his hair. “What? You don't want to sleep in the same bed as me?” You joke with him, helping him sit up.

“I do, I swear,” Chris groans, leaning into your body. “I didn't know if you wanted to.”

A hum leaves your lips. “Such a sweet man,” you sigh before pulling away slightly. You stroke his cheek, watching him blink. “Are you going to be okay? I gotta grab the wheelchair.”

He nods his head, pursing his lips. You know what he's asking for, and you smile at him before planting a kiss on his plump lips.

“I'll be quick,” you mumble against his lips, placing one more kiss on his forehead.

~

You slowly walk behind Chris, eyeing him as he crutches into the kitchen of his apartment. It's been a few days since he's been discharged from the hospital, and he seems to be taking it really well.

He slumps into the chair, releasing a hefty sigh. “This is exhausting,” Chris laughs, lifting his head to look at you.

“You're doing well, though,” you grin, tapping his chin.

“Thank you for staying with me,” he mentions, grabbing your hand. “I couldn't ask for a better partner.”

Your cheeks blush, and you shrug your shoulders. “Of course, baby. I… I love you,” you tell him for the first time.

It's been a couple of months since the two of you started dating. He's not like any other guy you've been with. He's such a sweetheart, and he treats you like an absolute queen. It didn't take long for you to figure out that you loved him.

Chris stares up at you, his lips parted at the sudden phrase. “You love me?” He whispers, squeezing your hand. You giggle, nodding your head in answer. “Even like this?”

“Chris, baby, yes,” you laugh.

“I love you. I love you so much,” he says while resting his head against your stomach.

You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Now, what do you want to eat?” You ask him, opening his fridge to take a look inside.

“You wanna just order something? I haven't had the chance to go shopping,” he mentions with a pout.

“Sure, baby. Maybe later I can quickly go get some groceries,” you mention, having him move into the living room.

Chris walks into the living room before lowering himself onto the couch. You grab the pillow beside him and tuck it under his leg, keeping it elevated.

“If you do, I'll give you my card,” he says as you sit down next to him.

He places his hand on your thigh, stroking the inside of it. “I can pay for it, it's okay,” you reassure him, linking your arm with his.

He groans, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Baby, it's my place. Let me pay for my groceries,” he whines.

“You can get them next time,” you wink at him, patting his good leg.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, squeezing your thigh.

You cuddle into his side after grabbing the remote. He combs his fingers through your hair as you find a movie to watch.

Chris looks at his food delivery app, trying to decide what he wants for lunch. “Do you want to get a variety of things?” He asks you, showing you his phone screen.

You quickly glance at the screen and nod your head. “Yeah, that's fine. It is pretty late, and we haven't eaten anything yet,” you tell him, moving your gaze from his phone to his face.

He smiles at you fondly, moving some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Man, I really love you,” Chris sighs, shaking his head. You giggle at his reaction. “I know it's only been a couple of months, but after this is over… I wouldn't mind you staying here.”

Your heart skips a beat, sitting up slightly. “Are you saying you want me to live here?” You ask him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I've enjoyed the past two days even though my leg hurts,” he chuckles.

We'll see when you're all better,” you giggle, patting his chest. “You might get sick of me.”

Chris scoffs and playfully rolls his eyes. He hooks a finger beneath your jaw, turning your head before kissing you. “I'll never get sick of you, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, planting soft pecks after.

You kiss him once more before grinning. “We'll see, lover boy.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n @meloncremesoda

[zadle]

How to replace Microsoft and support the BDS boycott

reach out to your tech friends about replacing windows with an alternative operating system, such as linux or a *BSD OS. if you decide to do this on your own, make sure to back up your hard drive first. windows profits off your usage data (even if you never paid for it) and can use it to train their AI, which is arming israel.

if your work or school requires you to acquire windows, look up massgrave (it's very simple to activate windows).

duckduckgo is just microsoft's bing in a trench coat. they have made a secret exception for microsoft's tracking services in the past. check out Searx instances, or try alternative indie web search engines such as Marginalia or Wiby.

if you're using microsoft's outlook for email, consider Tuta or Disroot (avoid proton; it's all privacy theatre that's only somewhat better than other email providers, and the CEO has voiced support for trump).

don't pay to watch the minecraft movie that's coming out. i've heard it's incredibly underwhelming anyway.

insist on playing minecraft but don't want to give microsoft money? avoid bedrock edition. check out UltimMC if you need a way to acquire java edition and you don't own it. if you're a server operator, you can set your server to offline mode in server.properties which allows people who acquire minecraft the cool way to connect, but this should be paired with a server-side authentication plugin/mod for safety reasons (in offline mode, anyone can log in with any username, including a whitelisted or operator username, and there are bots scanning for servers to grief). don't use realms. disable telemetry with mods if you can.

get a vpn (i recommend airvpn for p2p connections) and download qBittorrent. in case you're interested in media published by microsoft. or just in general. learn to torrent, and make sure all your torrent traffic goes through your vpn service.

if you're using microsoft edge, consider switching to an alternative browser such as LibreWolf (basically firefox with better privacy and security out of the box; mozilla is not the innocent robin hood figure they're made out to be) or Ungoogled-Chromium (chromium without the google spyware; unfortunately lacks auto-update in most cases).

if you're using microsoft's AI for anything, consider getting a library card instead.

[vomittedsoap]

Assigning The Terror characters cars cuz I’m bored

From a USA/Texas perspective.

Crozier: Pontiac Aztek

Walter white looking ahh… he transports the lieutenants around in it, the best carpool guy. Will stop by McDonalds but will never be late. Smells Neptune the dog and a few fries that got buried in the backseats but no one will help him clean it. Great oldies CD collection in the glove compartment!

John Franklin: Ford f-150, or whatever new ranching truck.

….Social security, baby! Uselessly big, he complains cuz he doesn’t know how the touchscreen dashboard works. He’ll let you ride it but you have to sit in the trunk. Costs like $50 to fill with gas. Plays Fox News on the radio and doesn’t believe in looking at the backup camera while in reverse. Everyone look out!, who knows if he even has auto insurance.

James Fitzjames: BMW Convertible / Mazda Miata

It’s hard to keep track of what car he’s driving cuz it seems like there’s a new one every few months. Whatever the car is, it’s sporty and cute. He’s been in a few crashes but always seems to end up fine. Smells like new car. Doesn’t let others have the aux, he only plays his one singular 10hour unorganized Spotify playlist. It’s always filled with mystery items.

He also owns and has crashed several Suzuki motorcycles.

Henry Goodsir: green KIA Soul.

It’s not fast but it’s SO cute and decently cheap. He’ll try to help you move but it’s no use. Acts confused when someone mentions hampsters. Scrambles to move all the papers and things out of the back seat whenever someone needs to get in.

Thomas Blanky: 1995 Ford F150

Fun uncle car. Really bad shape…I mean it's kinda scary to get in there. Jopson fell out of the trunk one time... It's always a fun time tho. Smells like cigarettes and cold mornings. 80's classics and Hank Williams on the radio. Neptune rides in the trunk. He works on classic cars and Harley Davidson motorcycles in his garage too but doesn't drive them.

George Hodgeson: 2004 Honda Element

(i say this because this is my car... rip). Great for moving, not as great for driving. There's always a bicycle in there. He gets lost but maybe the scenic route isn't so bad. Always drives with the windows down but has a strict "no smoking in the car" policy.

John Irving: Toyota Camry

Real partykiller of a car. You'd think it was his grandma's or something. One time he flipped his lid cuz the others hotboxed it in the parking lot while he grabbed something in the Quiktrip. Gas efficient and cheap, and not too bad to drive. Probably the best car out of the bunch its just so fugly and boring, but he likes it that way. Wooden/twine cross hanging from the rearview mirror and K-Love on the radio.

Cornelius Hickey: Whatever this thing is

[badnoahmens]

Sweep Me Off My Feet

Noah Sebastian x Reader

A/N: this was an anon request - I hope I did you proud! “Reader and him are bffs and she gets really depressed staying alone during the shutdown, so Noah picks her up and she ends up living with him during it all. So everyone else in the band quickly realizes that they are more than besties, just in the way they act with each other.”

42 days into this ‘lockdown’, you think. 42 days since it was all over the news, ‘stay in your house, don’t leave unless it's for a medical reason. Blah blah blah’. The panic has started to subside, people are somewhat used to the idea now, despite how upsidedown the world is seeming. The days were just so long, and the nights seemed to drag on forever. There wasn’t really an end in sight, just more and more delays of the inevitable. “Lockdown extended another week…month… the rest of our lives”.

There was only one thing helping you get through this, and that was Noah. He would be the one who always answered the phone, answered the messages, sent you hilarious videos or photos of himself. It was this connection that was what was stopping you from going insane.

Your house was otherwise empty. You lived on your own, along with your dying house plants. A blanket of darkness was getting ever so comfortable to live in, and it was becoming dangerous. You would go days without showering, the house was a mess, and the food you were eating could barely even be called edible.

It was 4pm, and you still hadn’t left the couch. Staring mind-numbingly at the TV as a show that auto-played in front of you. It was like your brain was paralyzing you, stopping from being alive. Instead, just existing; taking up space.

The only light in the room came from the TV as figures from an unknown show ran about their lives. The curtains were shut and all the doors and windows closed. A sudden brrrrrrrr from your phone drew you out of the shroud you were in, the phone screen lighting up with a new message.

Noah: Have you drank any water today?

You scoff. Was this man stalking you?

You reply: since when are you tracking my vitals?

You stand, bones creaking and cracking as you finally show some sign of life, and then saunter over to the kitchen. A cup that looks relatively clean sits by the sink, so you fill it up with water and drink it as quickly as you can.

Your phone lights up again.

Noah: You just drank some, didn’t you?

Your response? Nothing. He knows he’s right. You won’t even need to say anything.

Noah: knew it.

You: shut up.

You look down at your phone, and then around at the house. It was embarrassing. The smell was suddenly becoming apparent, and it was a concoction of body sweat, dampness and something else that might have been the dead plant.

You sigh. Knowing this wasn’t any way to live. Leaving the TV playing, you walk upstairs and to the bathroom, twisting the handles in the shower so the water comes pouring down. The steam begins to hollow out and you strip from your clothes, tossing them to the side. The waterfall feels clean, it envelopes you and you close your eyes in bliss. Why has this been so hard to do? The scent of your shampoo brings a slight smile to your face when you wash your hair, and it may just be because you were proud of yourself just for doing that. As you rinse your hair, there was a noise from outside the bathroom. A bang. Then a crash. Then a… clink?

Your heartbeat rises. Someone else was there, it wasn’t from the tv and you knew it. With shaking hands you shut off the shower and grasp your towel, wrapping your body in it roughly. Your mind starts to race. Will they leave without knowing you were there? Will they find you? What will they do if they do? Looking around the room, you panic when your phone is missing. It’s still downstairs. Fuck.

The footfalls grow louder as they climb the stairs, slowly. And then, as though he knows you would be hiding, Noah calls out.

“Are you home? It’s just me! Please don't attack me!”

The breath you were holding onto finally is let out, and you stomp over to the door, swinging it open aggressively.

“What the fuck, Noah!” You yell at him, hair dripping onto the floor as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. His hair was longer now, coming close to sitting on his shoulders. His dark brown eyes were wide as they stared at you, in a towel, in the middle of the hallway, with an angry expression twisted in your face. “I thought you were coming to kill me!”

It was then that you noticed a bag in his hand, a garbage bag, full of the rubbish that has been littering your house for weeks. “Are you cleaning?”

He still is looking at you, “I thought it would help…” he says sheepishly.

“Why are you cleaning?” you ask, quite literally dumbfounded.

“I know what you’re like. This isn’t healthy. I’m cleaning and you’re going to pack a bag and come live with us” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Come live with you?”

He nods his head, then turns and walks into your bedroom. You see the light in the room shift as he slides the curtains and opens the window, letting a light breeze slowly waft into the room and down towards you. You’re still confused as you see him rummaging around in your bedroom, throwing rubbish into a bag, then looking up to meet your confused stare.

“I can pack a bag for you if you’re just going to stand there” he remarks, and you respond quickly.

“I’ll pack myself, thank you very much. I’ve seen your fashion sense and I don’t trust you”

“What do you mean!” Noah calls back in disbelief.

“Grass shoes!” You yell back.

He stands in silence for a moment. “Enough said,” he states finally in defeat.

As you walk into your room, you start to feel overwhelmed watching Noah already having a full bag of trash. He was here all of 5 minutes and had done more around the house than you had in a month. Guilt started to eat away at the pit of your stomach, and Noah noticed the energy shift in the room. When he looked at you tears started to form.

“Hey…. Hey hey hey hey” he says, dropping the bag and coming to your side, wrapping his long arms around you. You bury your head in his chest and loop your arms around him. Breathing in his scent helped, but it didn’t stop the tears completely.

“I can stop if it’s not helping”

“No, please, I’m just sorry. It’s a lot. I haven’t seen you in so long”

“I know, but I knew I had to do something.”

It took all of a few hours to get the house into a relatively clean state. With bags of rubbish out of the way, clothes and dishes put back into their place, weeks of dirt and grime finally cleaned, you started to feel alive again. There was something about spending time with Noah that made you feel better. When the sun was starting to set, your house looked normal, bags were packed, and you were closing the door behind you as you left and walked towards Noah’s car.

The drive back to his house was quiet. You watched out the window as the view zoomed past. It seemed odd being outside, to be moving somewhere especially when you were not supposed to be leaving your house. But this was essential. This was for a medical reason. If Noah had not come to help you, who knows how long it would have taken to start completely falling apart.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, Noah stepped out and collected your bags, then headed straight inside having you follow him in. Although it was early, you were exhausted.

“I think I might just go straight to bed,” you murmur to Noah. He nods, then leads you to a bedroom. It was mostly bare, but it would be perfect. After how much clutter you had been surrounded with lately, the minimalism was refreshing.

You drop your bags on the bed, then turn to see Noah at the door.

“If you need anything, you know to come find me” he speaks softly. You nod in response. He then closes the door leaving you with nothing but yourself.

You look around the room. A bed was pushed up against the wall. A painting hung opposite it, and a plant stood tall in the corner by the door. The view out of the window showed the tall tree that stood in the backyard by the timber fence, and it looked like there were a few small birds taking up residence in a nest off one of the branches. You smiled at the birds, admiring their own peacefulness. They were content. Happy. Living with what they had. You were determined to get there yourself.

After a restless night’s sleep, you awoke to the sun shining through the window. The birds had left for the morning, possibly to get their food, and you decided you needed to do the same.

As you exit out of your new bedroom, the house is quiet aside from the muffled sounds of the tv from around the corner. You come around to see the animated faces of unknown characters playing out. It was an anime, and you were unfamiliar, but you did recognise the back of 2 heads facing the screen with their back to you. Noah and Jolly were sitting down on a couch lost in the adventure they were watching. You rounded the couch and slumped next to them. Nothing needed to be said, and nothing was said. They just shifted over to give you more room and continued on with their show.

This is what you needed. This new normal. With people around you. People that made you smile, made you actually want to get up in the morning, and to watch funny shows with.

As the anime continued, you started to ask some questions. “So who’s side are we supposed to be on?” “Aren’t they supposed to be the bad guy?” “What do you mean they just died?” “How old are these characters supposed to be?”

Noah and Jolly answered every single one of them, explaining plot points, theories and sometimes even loopholes in the storytelling.

After an hour, Jolly left to retreat to the kitchen, leaving yourself and Noah sitting side by side. He looked over at you, sharing a smile, and threw his arm over your shoulder. The action made you fall onto his side, a strangely comforting feeling after being so distant for so long. But a feeling that you knew you could get used to pretty quick.

2 months have passed now. You were still living with Noah and the boys. He still made you laugh and smile like you never had before. The days were simple, spending time with each other, watching shows, writing music, and playing games. But tonight it was another night on the couch. It became a tradition these days to all be sprawled out, limbs over limbs, invading personal space, all in an effort to spend quality time together and work as a close unit of friends. It felt so natural with them, they were beyond welcoming, and made you feel like a part of the family.

Just like all the nights that had passed previously, Nick was the first to go, standing with a sigh, rubbing his belly, and sauntering off into his room. Next to follow was Jolly, after many arguments about his falling asleep during the show, he finally admitted defeat and retreated back to his bedroom.

This left you and Noah alone. The growing haze of sleepiness was creeping ever so close to taking over. Your eyelids felt so heavy that it was impossible to keep them open. I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute, you say to yourself, knowing full well this was the biggest lie. It was mere seconds until the dream state took you under.

You were abruptly awoken by the feeling of rummaging coming from beneath you. Lifting your head from its place, you peer between the slits of your open eyes. You’re met with Noah’s face looking at you, perplexed and a little worried.

“Go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you” he whispers in a soft tone, a little raspy and sleepy himself.

Twisting your head you can see you laying by his side, squished between his body and the back of the couch pillows. Noah was laying on his back, dangling close to the edge, one leg hanging off at the knee to stop from slipping off altogether. His hands rested on your back, gliding up and down in a soothing motion. His arm was twisted around your side, with you nestled comfortably and quite perfectly fitted under his arm with head resting on his chest.

A hand of yours was tucked under your head, and it takes a second to realize how you got here. When you fell asleep, you must have slipped down onto Noah, and him being the gentleman he is, didn’t want to wake you. Was he asleep himself? By the look of his hair, spread across the beige pillow in a tangled mess, it’d be a good guess to say that he was.

You lay your head down once more, gazing drizzly up at Noah, who tenderly brushed some of the loose strands of hair away from your face.

“You know you talk in your sleep” he uttered quietly, as if not to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

Still half asleep, you close your eyes and sigh.

“I was afraid of that” you whisper.

“It was adorable,” he says, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Noah leans his head down, straining it at an almost awkward angle, to meet your face. Suddenly, you weren’t so sleepy anymore. He was so close. His breath washed over your face and wafted down past your neck. He was lingering, slow, questioningly. Did he want this? Did you? Shivers were running down your spine, possibly from the surge of butterflies in your stomach. Noah was your friend, your closest friend, and would this ruin it? Thoughts were running wild in your head, dancing dangerously close to ruining what was about to happen.

Noah notices, he sees you hesitate, and he pulls back. Your stomach drops.

“I’m sorry, I-“ he starts.

You interrupt him by leaning up and meeting his lips with yours. He flinched at the impact, but didn't pull back. Instead, his lips move like yours, mimicking the motion you create, parting slightly to allow just that tiny bit more of a connection. You slide up, straddling Noah so that your thighs are at the sides of his torso, moving your hands so they are on either side of his face, fingers tangling with his long hair in a feeble attempt to ground yourself in the moment. His hands move too, gingerly griping at your hips, but not as to hold, but to caress. You feel a tremor of anticipation across your body, the light pressure that he creates between you two, rolling his body to be closer to yours, makes the sensation even more intimate.

You’re still kissing him, heavily. His mouth parts more, flicking the tip of his tongue over your lips as though to ask for more. You respond with the same motion, with tongues now intertwining as you begin to taste him. The fears and worries from before are long gone, and all that you could think of now was him, was that he wants this just as much as you do.

The intensity between you and Noah grows more. It's as if the universe has narrowed down to this singular moment, where every touch, every sensation, becomes heightened and electrifying. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the softness of his skin — it all consumes your senses.

With each passing second, the kiss deepens, evolving into something more profound and passionate. Your tongues dance together, exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. It's a delicate balance between fervor and tenderness, a beautiful symphony of desire and affection, orchestrated perfectly just for the two of you.

Noah's hands glide up your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. As his hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers gently caress your skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body and intensifying the sensation. Time becomes irrelevant as you revel in this newfound closeness. The outside world ceases to exist, and it's just the two of you, entwined in an embrace that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. In this intimate dance, you feel a profound sense of trust and vulnerability, knowing that you are sharing something special and rare.

You can feel him begin to writhe beneath you, legs shifting and pressing against the space between yours. You pause momentarily, letting the moment linger, before reciprocating the same passion, grinding down with your hips to create friction between your clothes. The moan that elicits from Noah echoes into your mouth, the feeling of pleasure taking over him for a moment. As the kiss lingers, your hands wander, discovering the contours of each other's bodies. His hands now gripping desperately at your body, one cinched below your thigh, pulling it up closer to him, the other hooked around the back of your neck, thumb rubbing delicate shapes into your skin. Every touch, every caress, elicits a gasp or a sigh from both of you, like a plea for more.

But eventually, the need for air becomes undeniable, and you reluctantly break the kiss, your lips still tingling from the connection. Breathless and flushed, you meet Noah's gaze, searching for reassurance and affirmation. He looks back at you, with the same search in his eyes. Almost like he’s looking for answers too, like he’s asking if he could continue. You lean your forehead against Noah's, your breaths intermingling as you revel in the afterglow of that passionate kiss. Both of you are out of breath, panting in an effort to regain some kind of consciousness. Time seems to stand still, as if the universe itself is holding its breath, acknowledging the significance of this shared moment. That is, until the rattle of the fridge door, and the flood of its light tears you from the moment, violently throwing you back to the reality around you. With a jolt, your head darts towards the source, the silhouette of Jolly in the fridge gives you your answer.

“Bout time you guys kiss and make up” he says, with such a carefree nature, a hint of humor playing in his last words. “Nick, you owe me 20!” He calls, exiting the room and around the corner.

“We’re they fucking, or just making out?” You hear Nick call from another room.

“Just making out. Thank Christ” Jolly answers to himself, leaving you and Noah to giggle, flushed red with embarrassment. Despite being caught in the act, it didn’t dampen the mood. You were still straddling Noah, but sitting more upright now. He sits up, readjusting so you sit atop his lap. He brushes a loose strand behind your ear, and looks at you tenderly.

It might be the lack of oxygen, but the way the colorful light from the tv dances on Noah’s face makes him seem more beautiful, like something you’ve never seen in him before.

In the room's shifting shadows, the illustrations decorating his neck come alive, dancing in the changing colors that starkly contrast with the white of his shirt. His hair was a mess, tangled and knitted from your fingers, but it was his eyes, and the way they looked into your soul, that made you feel at home. With your hands draped around his neck, you lean in once more, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He closes his eyes and leans into you again, pushing his hands against your back to make you closer to him as you both revel in the fleeting moment. Even if it did change things in the future, you didn’t care.

[seat-safety-switch]

You can keep your ghostly little girls, your blood on the windows, your random vampire attacks. For me, the spookiest mystery of Halloween is why my car keeps getting vapour lock.

Down the street, the real mechanics tell me that it's because the weather is getting colder. The fuel inside the carb gets denser and it doesn't burn as well. I think that's some top-shelf bullshit, mostly because I know for a fact that at least two of the dudes down at Harry's Auto Repair are actually werewolves. Think about it: Harry's. It's right in the name. Next time I go in there to borrow their tools without paying, I should bring along a dog biscuit.

Car chasing canine mechanics aside, they do have a point. The weather has been getting worse lately, and cars do run a lot worse when that happens. Originally, my distant Quebecois ancestors would have chalked this up to malevolent spirits, angered by a too-greedy harvest of the fields. They'd have left a couple stalks of corn behind, to keep the spirits happy. You know, make sure that the old family tractor keeps starting every morning just in case Meemaw needed to take Peepaw to the hospital to get his stomach pumped again (corn liquor problems.) What I needed was a sacrifice.

Back in the 70s, when this car was made, it was a lot easier to find sacrifices. People went missing all the time, and nobody went looking for them. Nowadays, if you kidnap a person from the side of the highway, you have to make sure all their tracking devices are removed. Smartphones. Smartwatches. Smart rings. Smart buttplugs. The other day, I heard about some guy that has an internet-connected tooth. Yeah. His molar can get an IP address. All of these things are constantly reporting your location to a series of shadowy information brokers. And they call me a monster.

To avoid all this hassle, I simply decided to do what I always do: sacrifice some tires. A big burnout in front of the 4-H Club would surely appease any malevolent nature spirits, and help me keep my car in tip-top condition all winter. Plus, their office is right next to the tire shop that keeps throwing perfectly good tires in the dumpster behind their store. If one set of rears turned into smoke didn't do it, I could keep burning down more dead, oddly-round dinosaurs until the cops came home.

Through my efforts, I wasn't attacked by cops, or even vampires. What happened was that some stray ember from my bare rims striking the pavement set the adjacent corn field on fire, and I had to get out of there in a hurry, leaving my work undone. Those farmers are gonna be pissed when those spooky little girls start crawling out of their TVs.

[neon-kazoo]

A Hero’s Guide on How to Get the Fuck Out of Town

(50% success rate!!)

Chance of survival guaranteed

So you’ve found yourself in a bit of a predicament.

Say, you accidentally caught a glimpse of your nemesis with their mask off. Maybe your nemesis caught you catching a glimpse of them with their mask off. Possibly, they have been chasing you around nonstop since, vowing to end your life the second you slip up and make a mistake. If things are really going bad for you, said villain might be the most well-connected in town with plenty of friends to help hunt you down. One of those friends might even be the mayor.

Just as an example.

Don’t you worry, this guide is here to help save the day by teaching you the foolproof method of how to run the fuck away.

That brings us to our first and most important piece of advice.

Don’t make a mistake.

Seems simple, right?

Yeah, right up until you face plant in the middle of the sidewalk and roll into oncoming traffic during a close foot pursuit.

Hypothetically, of course.

That brings us to our second, and slightly-less-important-but-still-very-relevant piece of advice.

When you do make a mistake, don’t panic.

Calmly rise to your feet and make a timely exit out of the roadway. Freezing in the left hand lane and flailing like a half-dead piece of roadkill won’t make the situation any better. In fact, it will only allow the villain to get closer and greatly increase the risk of an auto accident. You might even lose a finger or two between a tire and the asphalt.

Not that that would ever happen to you specifically, but trust me it could.

But just in case you do end up panicking, all hope is not lost. Here’s what you want to do:

Make the best of it.

Use that flailing to flag down a passing car. Get a phone and call for backup. If you stumble over your words urgently enough, the driver might even let you hitchhike. Or, if worst comes to worst, a simple carjacking might be in order. Just be sure to pay them back later.

Or don’t. Once you’re out of town, you’re going to need to stay out of town. No contact. Can’t let rectification be the reason you are found.

Speaking of being found, you might want to dump that tracker the villain put in your shoe. Throwing it out the window of the car you may-or-may-not have stolen should work.

Now, you may be more or less fingerless, but at least you’ve gained some ground. Try backroads, there’s less cameras for the villain to gain eyes on and less people around to keep an eye on. That is only, however, if you know your way around, which highlights our next point:

Know how to read a map.

Brush up on your Never Eat Soggy Waffles skills, cause you’re gonna need them. GPS can be hacked. A simple brochure map you nicked off a tourist, however, cannot. If you can hold the map right-side-up, you’re on the right track. I cannot advise against driving around in circles enough. Sure, you might confuse your enemy for a second, but ultimately it will get you no where. Literally.

Speaking of directions:

Be random.

North, South, East, or West? If you have a coin, flip it. Preferably more than once, unless your coin has four heads. Don’t head for your vacation home or your best friend’s house. That one town you planned a trip to as a project in elementary school? Absolutely not. Not even your boss’ cousin’s wife’s dog’s breeder’s childhood remote cabin. I mean random. Never heard of it? Perfect. Population of 60, bingo. Population of 10 million, also a winner. Forget logic, forget means. Just don’t be predictable.

Next:

Trust your gut.

If it looks like the gray SUV has been behind you too long, that’s not just paranoia. If you think you’re being followed, you probably are. To lose a tail, you just need to be able to do one thing:

Move like a bat out of hell.

Driving? See that pedal on the right? Step on it. Forget the brakes, red lights, pedestrians, and any signs and drive like you were taught by your blind aunt who secretly wanted you dead. Don’t worry, that thud was probably just an orange cone. Once all you see in the rear view is skid marks and destruction, feel free to lighten up on the gas. Enjoy a slight reprieve before our next tip.

Use cash.

All that running made you hungry, I get it. Your fuel tank is probably running pretty low, too. You’re going to want to stop at the sketchiest gas station you can find. I’m talking open drug deal in the parking lot here. The attendant smoking near the pumps look like they’re straight out of a wanted poster? Perfect. The least amount of questions they ask, the better.

Don’t think this makes you safe, though. Remember:

Stay suspicious.

Clerk being a little too friendly with an awkward laugh and sweat dripping off his brow? Gaze keep darting around and not in the typical high as a kite fashion? You might want to grab your mini m&m’s and run.

Relatedly:

Civilians are not your friends.

Don’t learn this the hard way. It doesn’t matter if you saved their kitten from a tree once, it only takes a wad of cash or the flash of a gun to turn somebody against you. Next thing you know, that very same clerk is pulling out a rifle from behind the counter and pointing it straight at your back. This is where our next piece of advice really pays off.

Be aware of your surroundings.

Does the pharmacy, perhaps, have mirrors angled on the wall that you can use to catch the bolt being pulled back just in time to dodge the bullet whizzing past your head? If it does, excellent. If it doesn’t…well I’d suggest you don’t turn your back on anybody. And watch out for those middle-of-the-aisle displays if you plan on walking backwards all the way out of there. Wouldn’t want to die falling on a heap of beanie babies, would you?

Don’t dilly dally.

Forget dodging, start running. Make your get away swift. Just make sure you pumped your gas first. (And don’t drive off with the nozzle in your tank, that would just be embarrassing.)

Let’s take a moment to discuss unexpected obstacles.

Your number two nemesis, let’s say: the roadblock. So maybe you were a little too loose with the rule about randomness, or maybe your villain has a doctorate in statistics. That doesn’t matter now. Now, it’s fight or flight and, quite frankly, this is not a guide on hand-to-hand combat. I have but one thing to say on the matter:

When in doubt, flee.

Now, this may be covered under no dilly dallying, but I believe it’s worth restating.

Every moment is precious.

It’s all about timely decisions. Two ways to turn and don’t know which one to pick? Allow only a split second to make the decision. A fraction could mean the difference between life and death at an intersection. Channel your inner try-hard and run in a direction like you’re a fifth-grade boy playing tag.

And at that, we finally arrive at one last piece of advice (and I fear this one may be nonnegotiable):

If the villain is waiting for you around the left corner, you might want to go right.

[doll3scent]

EMPATHY.

engineer user! x android kyle!

Warnings- none

wc.

a/n. we were talking about CRISPR in my psychology class and then we started talking about genetically enhanced humans and bionics and androids. Then i came up with this lol. can you tell idk what i’m talking about

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

01. next

You had always been interested in code and tech, building something no one else had been able to accomplish. You first played with the idea of making an android. It was a concept tossed around by scientists and engineers alike, but no one really took it seriously. Those who tried always failed. Their creations either became aggressive or completely nonfunctional, broken machines that couldn’t sustain themselves or follow commands

It was months and months of collecting scrap metal, digging through junkyards, picking up anything half-functional off the side of the road, buying parts from auto shops only to return them the next day when they didn’t fit. You were constantly elbow deep in rust and wires, fingers nicked from sharp metal, your clothes smelling like burnt plastic and motor oil.

Your basement became a graveyard of old tech, rusted gears, busted servos, wires coiled like snakes across the floor. Most of it didn’t work, but you kept going.

You spent hours down there, sometimes whole days, barely eating, barely sleeping, building a rough outline. A skeleton made of scrap and stubbornness. He didn’t look like much then, just a shell. But he was yours.

It was even longer building the code.

The physical frame was hard, sure

but the code? That was the part that nearly broke you. There were no tutorials for creating a mind, no walkthroughs for writing something that could think. You weren’t just programming responses, you were trying to simulate instinct. Learning. Memory. Choice.

You spent weeks on motor control alone. Just getting a hand to flex without locking up took over a hundred lines of trial and error, every time you thought you made progress, something crashed, something sparked, something failed.

You rewrote entire systems in the dead of night, deleting and retyping until your fingers ached. You fall with your laptop open on your chest, code forcing its way into your dreams.

And through all of it, you kept talking to him, like he could hear you.

“Almost there,” you’d whisper, soldering wires to a cheap processor. “Just a little longer.”

Because even if he wasn’t alive yet, part of you was already waiting for him to answer.

The weeks blurred together.

At first, you tried to keep things organized, logs, notes, backups. Every test carefully documented, every line of code dated. But after a while, it all turned into noise. You stopped tracking time in days and started measuring it in progress, how many bugs you fixed, how many parts you replaced, how close he was to finally waking up.

You talked to him more than you talked to anyone else.

At first it was just to fill the silence, grumbling under your breath, threatening to throw his parts out the window, or cracking a joke when something sparked. But it became a habit, you’d mutter updates like you were reporting to him, like part of him was already listening.

“I rerouted your voice modulators again. That’s version… I don’t even know. Maybe this one won’t sound like a garbage disposal.”

“You blew a fuse when I ran the learning script yesterday. Not gonna lie, it scared the hell outta me.”

“You owe me for the amount of sleep I’ve lost over your busted code.”

And at some point, he stopped being a project. You didn’t realize when it happened, but the shift was subtle and steady. You finished the body. Strong and lean synthetic muscle under plated armor. His face looked human…too human. He wasn’t meant to at first, but the design had drifted. You’d modeled him after something in your head something familiar from a long forgotten dream.

You gave him a name.

Kyle.

Not a model number, just kyle, you didn’t know why. It just fit.

You were working behind his ear, adjusting the neural interface, tightening the screws where the frame met the spine, when the words slipped out, soft and tired.

“You know, I talk to you more than I talk to real people.”

You reached for your screwdriver.

Then you heard it.

A faint crackle, low and rough, like radio static. The speech filter wasn’t finished, but it forced the words through anyway, unsteady and broken but unmistakable.

“I know.”

The screwdriver slipped from your fingers and hit the concrete with a sharp clang.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t breathe.

You couldn’t.

Just stared at the back of his head, frozen in place. That hadn’t been a playback, not a glitch or a random soundbite from a test log, that was speech, that was him.

Slowly, you stepped around to the front. His eyes were open, still, dark, empty..but something behind them had changed. Something subtle, a flicker you couldn’t explain.

“Kyle?” you whispered.

But he didn’t respond. The only sound that filled the dim basement was the quiet hum of his power core, steady and calm. His synthetic chest rose and fell with programmed breath. Nothing else.

But he had answered you. You knew it.

[winniefrezcomics]

I got reminded of these when I saw a repost

A mini comic you drew a while ago shows Iris in jail with Perry talking to him through glass. Perry has a smile and is guessing what they charged him on in a joking manner, also based on the wording of Perry and Iris conversation it isn't the first time he has been arrested.

So I was wondering if there was a pacific event that did lead him to getting arrested and i'm so curious what Perry's reaction was to seeing or being told his boyfriend was arrested.

Sorrry this is so long I just love your AU! And character designs 💙💜 (*´ ˘ `*)

AWH TYSM!! 🥺💕❤️ dw i love long questions dbdbddhjd, ranting incomprehensibly abt my AU satiates the hyperfocus demons 😂😂

Tbh for a second I got confused bc I thought u were talking abt a doodle comic I never finished or posted, but then I remembered this magma doodle exists 😂😂

Dug that comic out to finish it for this ask too tho bc I lowkey forgot I was almost done w it ☠️☠️ ty for the reminder mwah mwah 😚

SO UH- I feel like in a human AU, it would only make sense for Irep to have an EXTENSIVE criminal record, starting even back in elementary school 😂😂

Infodump under cut- (Cw for incarceration, false imprisonment, and a VERY brief mention of child abuse at the end- spoiler: Iris rocks an abusers shit HARD and goes to prison for it but jokes on them bc Perry and Iris then adopt his daughter and give her the loving parents she deserves 💙💜)

Kid Iris probably got sent to Juvie a few times but never stayed long because his rich daddy would either bail him out or prevent him from being emitted entirely- same story for his teen years- as far as WHAT lands him in juvie/jail in his youth, the general answer is “doing whatever the fuck he wants and having no concern over the consequences” wheeze

Vandalism, fist-fights, petty theft, grand theft auto, trespassing, breaking and entering- that sort of thing- his parents will always forgive him, so Iris has VERY little forethought when it comes to what actions may lead to getting him in legal trouble ☠️

HOWEVER, once Iris turned 18 and was legally an adult, his dad had more trouble bailing him out every time, so he had to serve a few short sentences here and there, but just sort of got used to the pattern of “do whatever the fuck I want, serve jail time if the cops catch me, go back to doing whatever the fuck I want” 😂😂

Perry is never PLEASED to hear that Iris has been arrested again, but he’s also never surprised. usually Perry will either just sigh and reschedule thier upcoming dates, or if Iris has pissed him off recently, break up w him for the hundredth time only to inevitably take him back once Iris is released and stands outside his window w a boombox in the pouring rain or some other equally dramatic romantic gesture 😂

(Sidenote: I think another reason (anti) Cosmo starts to have trouble keeping Iris out of the hands of the law is that HE HIMSELF starts to get into hot water for stuff like tax fraud and embezzlement wheeze)

Unfortunately my friend you have activated my ANGST TRAP CARD w this one- check out below the cut for a huge infodump abt Iris’ Jailtime; specifically the worst ‘breakup’ he and Perry EVER had, that took them years to reconcile from! 🥰

His LONGEST sentence (the one where Perry LOST TRACK of him for multiple years) happened after Iris and Perry had a fight about Perry being “too boring” and “always trying to smooth down his edges” so they kind of sort of decide to go on a break, and Iris is too mad to even give his boyfriend a kiss goodbye (a decision he would come to regret for his ENTIRE LIFE).

Iris drags Sammy Sweetsparkle on an INSANE party binge in Tijuana or something- at some point losing track of Sammy, but deciding he’s having too much fun to stop now…. Only to end up taking the fall for a stranger in a HUGE drug bust of some kind, and getting thrown into a prison in MEXICO with NO SPANISH FLUENCY and no way to contact his friends and family back home ☠️☠️

Perry spends YEARS trying to find his boyfriend, losing weight, barley sleeping, and just generally making himself SICK with worry to the point that Timmy and his parents had to BEG HIM to just move on with his life, bc they couldn’t stand to see him wither away like that.

Despite having been dating thier son for multiple years, Perry actually didn’t have a very close relationship with Iris’s parents at the time, so even though at first he was constantly calling them for updates, by the time AC and AW actually FOUND thier son years later, they’re weren’t sure if Perry’s number was correct anymore, so when Wanda called Perry to excitedly tell him that they had FINALLY found Iris, unfortunately it’s TIMMY that happens to answer the phone.

Perry is staying with his brother for a short time to get back on his feet after finally giving up on finding his boyfriend and starting to apply for teaching jobs (something he got a college degree for but took a few years to pursue bc dating mid-20s Iris was a full time fuckin job tbh). Timmy is so glad that his brother is finally doing better, and, though secretly relived to hear Iris isn’t DEAD like Perry had been assuming, Timmy makes a hard (maaaaybe wrong as hell of him) decision… he tells Wanda she has the wrong number, and to never call again. 🙃

Lemme know if yall wanna hear about thier eventual reunion! Trust me, this peice makes it look WAY less traumatic and messy than it was 😬☠️ Iris basically does EVERYTHING WRONG HE POSSIBLY COULD HAVE to delay thier eventual reconciliation 😔

Iris serves one more long sentence AFTER he and Perry make up and start dating again, but the reason is actually a noble one this time, and iris turns himself in willingly to prove to Perry that he’s not a killer, and he IS trying to be better (Iris found out one of Perry’s students had a horrifically abusive father and beat him within an inch of his life 💙 they later adopted said student)

which I mention here only so that I can ALSO post this art of thier SECOND post-jail reunion, which is MUCH more joyful and sappy than the first sobs- thier daughter is definitely present for this, just so itty bitty she’s off-screen lmao

Ty for the question! I actually dug most of this infodump out of a discord server, but I’m glad to have it archived here now too uwu

[jeridandridge]

Long & Lost

The great Agatha Harkness crumbles.

365 days.

52 weeks.

525600 minutes.

365 days since Agatha lost her son. she finds herself taking deep breaths as she taps her thumb against the steering wheel, her eyes going to the crystal moon dangling from the rearview mirror; its backdrop a clear sky of stars against the windshield. Nicky loved nights like this, she thinks.

“He stopped,” A tired Agatha whispers, head turned looking at the baby reflecting in the small mirror on the seat.

Nicky’s cheeks are flushed pink, little whimpers escape his tiny body as he calms down from his fitful night. Warm brown eyes look out the window as Rio drives in no particular direction through the secluded part of Westview.

Rio beams tiredly reaching for Agatha’s hand. “He loves the stars like his Mami.”

Driving slowly past the bookstore, the grocery store, Agatha smiles as she comes up to the rec center. looping into a gravel driveway that leads to the soccer field in the back, she drives on auto pilot parking under the cracked street lamp she used to park under every Saturday morning. Kicking up gravel and dirt as she gets out of the car Agatha holds the sleeves of Rio’s beat up Quantico sweatshirt between her fingers. Standing in the empty soccer field, the soft breeze takes her back to those chilly Saturday mornings.

“Mama! Look I can do the kick Mami taught me!” Nicky beams proudly, the white and black ball gliding effortlessly between his feet as he jumps in the air sending the ball off across the grass.

Agatha grins holding up her phone, being that mother during her son’s first soccer game of the season. “Good job, baby! One day you’ll be faster than Mami.” She smiles at her wife.

“One day, not today!” Rio teases lifting their little boy into her arms to tickle him relentlessly. As they mess around before the game starts, Agatha’s chest warms. She’s never been so happy.

Knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel. Turning down familiar streets, she smiles sadly when she drives past the cemetery gate. The word coward echos in her ears, as if her wife had just yelled in the confined space a moment ago.

Agatha huffs as she lays in the once familiar living room. The autumn air used to send a jolt of excitement through her, but now she finds herself burrowed under a layer of blankets in the cabin that held so many memories. Memories of love and laughter that play through her mind like a movie as the framed photos on the walls mock her.

As she tries to let sleep take her the offending device on the table buzzes and buzzes, only stopping and flashing a voicemail a minute later. Agatha knows it’s her wife calling. After Nicky’s funeral, she began to see less and less of the woman she loved. Rio was constantly gone for work, either out of town on an assignment or holed up in the field office running on nothing but coffee and a hidden bottle of bourbon.

Taking a breath she closes her eyes and hits play on the cracked screen.

“Well congratulations, my love, you win.” Rio lets out in a bitter laugh, voice sad and defeated.

Agatha can tell she’s been drinking as her voice cracks.

“I thought about going over everyone’s head. Tracking your phone, driving to wherever you are to bring you home.”

Agatha sucks in a breath squeezing her eyes shut harder.

“But you’re a coward, Agatha.” She all but growls. “A coward,” she huffs again, voice crackling. “I don’t want this. Nicky wouldn’t want this.”

The dam breaks, and the great Agatha Harkness crumbles.

Rio has the porch light on when Agatha pulls into the driveway. A silent welcome home, an invitation to come inside. The warm glow illuminates the dark blue door along with the now filled in crack near the handle that splintered the painted wood when she decided enough was enough.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Agatha growls, eyes on the single suitcase at the landing of the stairs. One she knows Rio only uses for work trips.

“I told Skinner to keep me on call.” A tired looking Rio appears behind Agatha.

When Rio’s hands rest on her hips the younger brunette jerks away spinning to look at her, fire in her eyes.

“Again? You’re fucking leaving again?” She spits.

Rio doesn’t say anything right away, her attention on the suit jacket by the door. She knows Agatha doesn’t understand how she feels. She couldn’t. She cannot understand how she hates sympathy flowers being delivered every day. She hates being in the quiet house. She hates fighting during the day and having sad make up sex at night trying to forget.

“I left the flight and hotel info on the fridge.” She pulls her jacket on expecting a fight from her wife.

Agatha takes a step forward with a clenched jaw, eyes watering. “If you leave me here alone don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” She says lowly through gritted teeth.

Rio shakes her head with a sad smile, grabbing her bag.

When her wife is out the door Agatha takes hold of the knob slamming it shut hard enough to shake the house, the echoing sound covering a sob.

When she steps out of the car the front door opens. Rio slinks out slowly, hair damp from a shower and this time not in a suit but a pair of sweats and one of Agatha’s hoodies. Agatha watches her wife in the dark slowly lifting her head to meet her gaze. Moving cautiously up the pathway, Rio meets her engulfing her in a hug, the warmth from her touch sending a calm through her chest that she hasn’t felt since before they lost Nicky.

All of these months later after working herself to exhaustion, Rio feels the guilt for leaving. All these months after leaving, Agatha holds her wife in a protective hug, long fingers carding through dark hair as she hides her face in her neck.

“I missed you.” Rio is the first to break the silence with a whisper, hands clutching her wife so fiercely she’s sure her grip could cause bruising.

Pulling back just enough, Agatha’s hands gently cup Rio’s face bringing her into a tender kiss, one they hadn’t shared since those nights of trying to forget their pain and grief. One that feels like a rainstorm after a drought. Rio takes hold of her wife’s wrists, slowly breaking away to rest her forehead against hers. This time, Agatha speaks first, crystal blue eyes meeting warm amber.

“Let’s go see him together?”

Rio gives her wife a soft, watery smile, nodding in agreement.

“Together.”

[crochetmelovely]

New free pattern from me: Window Pane Blanket! Full pattern on my blog or grab the PDF from my Ravelry shop! Both links are in my bio! 💜😊✨️

Check out the IG reel here!

Check out the tiktok here!

[inloveinsickness]

❝ THE USUAL ❞ — kageyama tobio

PROLOGUE

prev | series masterlist | next

there’s something so peaceful about the period of time before golden hour.

everything seems to slow down in it’s tracks in your little pseudo pocket dimension. beyond the bedroom pop playing through the speakers and the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee, you can hear everything in this quaint little space — the occasional tentative clink of ceramic, keyboard typing, quiet hums of the chiller.

it’s a fairly slow time of the day, most office workers having already grabbed their midday caffeine pick-me-up during the lunchtime rush and students are back on campus until later in the evening. it’s a pleasant quiet, one of your favourite parts of the early shift as it comes to a close.

which makes the noise outside all the more jarring.

thuds and back and forth movements through the glass windows of the storefront catch your restless attention, your gaze snapping towards the commotion while your hands move on muscle memory wiping down the counter for the nth time.

well this is a new sight.

boxes upon boxes being hauled to what seems like the empty unit next door, guess someone finally decided to rent the space.

“hinata, stop being an idiot and move the box inside before taking shit out!”

your eyebrow raises in amusement at the muffled conversation happening just past the glass doors, their figures just outside of your line of sight. their shadows dance across the cobbled pavement, the afternoon sun casting an orange glow on the street you’ve come to know very well.

if it was any other day, you’d probably be annoyed by the ruckus, but today’s a good one if you can say so yourself. you finally perfected the blueberry cake recipe you’ve been tweaking and nitpicking at for the past two weeks, one less thing to fuss over and you can let your body move on auto pilot for the rest of your shifts. you’ve been working here long enough that you know everything like the back of your hand.

the next project on hand would probably be to switch up some of the wall decorations but there’s no deadline on that— the gentle chime at the door pulls you out of your mental journal, and you reflexively put on a smile like you always do.

“welcome to alchemy’s brew, what can i get you?”

“um,” the raven-haired young man that just came in takes a moment to scan the menu as he walks up to the cashier, eyes oddly focused and determined over a simple mundane task like picking a beverage. you bite the inside of your cheek and try your best to hold back the smile creeping up on your face as you fiddle with a black sharpie between your fingers, cute. “i’ll have a-uh, an iced vanilla latte, double shot with whole milk, to go please.”

you recognise his voice to be one of the two squabbling outside, much more apparent now that you’re speaking face to face. it has a pleasant tone, relaxed and composed, a stark difference to earlier.

“alright! could i get your name please?”

“it’s kageyama.”

with a nod and after ringing him up, you begin whipping up his coffee, back turned towards him as he stands by the end of the counter tapping on his phone. “so i take it you’re part of the crew moving in beside us?”

you don’t see over your shoulder how he looks up with a confused furrow of his eyebrows, “yeah, how’d you know?”

“could hear you guys bickering from in here.”

as you hand his cold cup over to him with a breathy chuckle, your fingertips graze each other’s, and his cheeks flush bashfully with an apology at the tip of his tongue. you probably heard him yelling at hinata, how embarrassing.

his eyes absentmindedly glide over the words scribbled in your handwriting, an effortless slight cursive, and a little smiley at the end lifts his features in a polite surprise.

welcome to this side of town, kageyama ☻

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[meylovesmusic]

Thoughts on The Firstfruit by MARK of NCT 💚

Toronto's Window - chill, moving, and very explanatory of just Mark as a person imo. he's a storyteller through and through.

1999 - such a vibe omg, really showcases Mark's versatility as an artist, a different take on the more nostalgic sound we've been getting from kpop recently

Flight to NYC - really helps create the storytelling element Mark and his group mates have all been saying he'd do for years, sick production

Righteous - so fucking cool holy shit, love the heavier more electronic influence in the production, very neo but still very mark's brand of neo

Fraktsiya - still such a banger I'll never get over this track omg, "I'm NCT", love the variety in the production it adds great texture without being overstimulating, Lee Young Ji is a queen love her, Mark really does carry so much of modern sm on his back atp and props to him honestly for putting out such a good album

Raincouver - very chill very light but still very much a vibe I can understand Mark going for, play on words omg I love it, every person just has that one sing that reminds them of home and I think mark really made his own to express that feeling better

Loser - ooh acoustic?? fun, another play on words ok ok, oh no it's sad longing, but it still sounds so pretty and chill if you ignore the lyrics 😭, love hearing all the different tones and textures in his voice it's so satisfying to the ear, definitely very well executes the feeling of not wanting to let go of someone or something

Watching TV - a fun and chill bop with lots of variety in sound, crush and mark sound great together, the use of auto tune really helps emphasize the kinda vibe mark was going for, oh shit it's still sad boy but party boy but chill this is confusing but I love it

+82 Pressin' - eyyyy haechan feat. mark (line distribution goes wilddd), honestly this was such a good pre release, the lore and storytelling in the mv too??, hyuk sounds great as always, loved the choreo for this, Mark just has a way with writing lyrics like just randomly being able to fit in "dolphin" of all things is such a testament to his writing honestly, Mark sounded great too obv

200 - glad to see it on the full album honestly 💚, I don't think I've listened to this song enough considering how much I love everything about it, Mark really worked hard on this album for so long I'm glad he's getting his moment (I also know exactly what playlist of mine this fits on have to go add it now why didn't I do that earlier??)

Journey Mercies - all the little details in the track production holy shit, this is so dynamic??, ok vocals I see u mark, oh shit this hits you right on the heart, Mark bro I'll be your everything ok, sounds like a good hanging out in the park on a spring night at the beginning of summer when the sky is just clear enough and there's a slight breeze but it's still warm out song, but yeah loved the production on this!

Mom's Interlude - I honestly really liked that Mark added in so many bits like this that drew you back to reality with production that suited the mood of each break, I don't speak Korean but I bet Mark's mom is speaking facts

Too Much - starting off stripped back is such a statement in contrast to the title, also tying it all back to 1999? mark truly is a storyteller, what a great way to end the album, the production switch ok???!!?!?, this is probably the most someone could hear all the different sides of Mark in one song holy shit, this is a masterpiece omg

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honestly this album is a whole experience, so props to Mark for working so hard on it! I definitely get the vibe that it wasn't just creative expression for him but also his chance to show nctzens all the sides of him (that's really putting yourself in a vulnerable position and as an artist I can relate a LOT)

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albums I'd recommend to people who liked The Firstfruit: Indigo and RPWP by RM of BTS (immediately these were the kind of vibes and impact I personally felt), 19.99 by BOYNEXTDOOR (there's a similar pattern so far of albums with songs that just feel like entering a new chapter of life idk why)

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congrats on the release, Mark! it turned out really well and I'm sure everyone will say their praises, but know that putting out music like this reaches your fans in a way that makes a difference 💚