#Best Attendance Machine

[logicpng]

i got access to gitm references and immediately just. i guess i have more than one favorite now. oops

ghost in the machine / sunspot are @venomous-qwille's

[Image Description in ALT]

[sun-e-chips]

This user might have a lil crush on caelos au sun

au belongs to @caelos-au

[hikkokoro]

My brain is now rotting with SAMS aus about Ruin.

[midnightfire830]

MoonMug please tell me a story to sleep

Soft boi + trauma. Yippie!

(Also sorry if the drawings doesn’t look quite as nice. Motivation left me high and dry halfway through working on this so drawings may be a bit wonky. It’s also 2 AM for me rn…. TWT)

Thank you for the ask!!!! <3

[system-architect]

BELATED asura appreciation week #2 (i am slowly working my way thru these ok i spent most of my day at a ren faire) - "Do you have an Inquest OC? How did they end up in the Inquest?"

oh boy. i have a LOT of inquest characters actually! but here's these two because they're my main two, and also because i actually had an old wip i could finish up for this lmao

gunner graduated from synergetics, with a focus in mists research. his theses and projects hinged largely around the insights he gained while in the mists, but for obvious reasons he did not disclose his experiences or the fact he's a rata novan, and as a result a lot of his research ended up getting brushed up as unfounded and unhinged, which made him very bitter. he desperately needed the funding money for his huge ambitions of trying to rip open the mists (and find his dad), so he ended up getting into the inquest, and his ahead-of-its-time style theories combined with his determination made him quickly climb to overseer rank

plex also sort of entered the inquest for dad-related reasons, with his dad having been (being?) an inquest scientist who has been missing for awhile. he hopes to eventually find out why, but... on top of that im gonna be honest plex is also just kind of a gullible nervous loser who falls too easily for men in positions of authority and is a stickler for Rules And Regulations and has been sucked into this huge pyramid scheme so. he was just plain assigned evil minion at birth.

[ibp987456]

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[snehaleenakashe-blog]

ZKTeco SF300 Time Attendance and Access Control

The ZKTeco SF300 is an IP-based fingerprint terminal, which operates in both network mode and standalone mode.

It can connect with ZKAccess3.5 software for access control and time attendance management.

Wiegand output makes SF300 flexible to connect with ZK or any 3rd party controllers as a slave reader, Additionally, Wiegand input allows two units of SF300 to configure with each other.

Utilize Master & Slave solution, which requires user verification at both entrance and exit.

Meanwhile, the anti-passback function can be used to maximize security. The auxiliary input interface allows SF300 to connect with an external source, for instance, a smoke detector or emergency switch.

Once the linkage function is enabled through the machine menu, the device would generate an alarm signal and open the door in case of emergency.

Features of ZKTeco SF300

8-inch touch screen, color display with graphical UI for easy operation

Supports USB flash drive for offline data management

Standard access control features

Tamper-proof switch and multiple alarm outputs

ZKTeco SF300 Plus price in UAE

Cost To Cost provides the best price for the ZKTeco SF300 Fingerprint Time attendance

[strang3lov3]

Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent. 

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life. 

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both. 

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment.  You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even. 

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch. 

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.” 

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket. 

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist. 

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you. 

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished. 

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.” 

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.” 

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.” 

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?” 

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you. 

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it. 

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?” 

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.” 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway. 

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” 

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork. 

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.” 

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing. 

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin. 

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night. 

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out. 

-

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.  

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter. 

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some. 

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming. 

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky. 

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even. 

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke. 

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off. 

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time. 

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right? 

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before. 

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.” 

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him. 

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden. 

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs. 

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences. 

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

 “Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

 “I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie. 

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?” 

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.  

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails. 

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke. 

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer. 

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

 “Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

 “I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts. 

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing. 

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

 “Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?” 

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan.  He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.” 

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

 “Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you. 

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own.  “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt. 

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,” 

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.”  He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing.  He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

 “Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

 “Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree. 

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.” 

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”  

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts. 

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.” 

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.” 

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful. 

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs. 

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.” 

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.” 

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

[ampleappleamble]

haven't seen this on here yet so:

in case you don't want to slog through the shitscape that is the bird/letter website, take a peek beneath the cut (shamelessly copied from the something awful forums dungeon meshi thread)

- Her first memory of video games was watching her father playing Wizardry on Famicom, also Dragon Quest, Ultima, and Fire Emblem among others.

- She was a difficult child so her parents didn't let her play. Wizardry is a boring game to watch, but the monster illustrations on the walkthrough evoked her imagination and made her keep watching.

- She only started becoming a serious gamer after the serialization of Dungeon Meshi was locked, for research purposes. Before that, she read fantasy novels such as The Neverending Story (Michael Ende) and The Lord of the Rings (JRR Tolkien).

- The international title for Dungeon Meshi: Delicious in Dungeons was decided by her editor.

- D&D popped up a lot when she researched the history of video games, so she read the rule books, replay novels, and games inspired by D&D.

- One of the first games she studied was the Legend of Grimrock (game's 80% off on Steam atm). Originally, she wanted Dungeon Master (FTL Games) which was famous for "RPG with meals" but hunting down the game and machine was too much.

- She didn't like games other than turn-based RPGs at first, but she decided to stop being picky and play anything that piqued her interest.

- She played Zelda: BotW and TotK on a borrowed Switch from her editor due to the console's scarcity at the time.

- She enjoyed Red Dead Redemption 2 and God of War for their stories. RDR2's incredible attention to detail had Kui engrossed so much that she asked her editor and other mangaka to play it so she could discuss it with them.

- Kui praised The Witcher 3 localization as something only possible with full support from the developer. Cyberpunk 2077 is one of her all-time favorites.

- Papers, Please was her first taste of indie games.

- Disco Elysium is the perfect game for her due to the lack of fighting, intriguing story, charming character interaction, and top-down perspective. She tried playing it in English at first due to an unlikely chance for JP loc, but it was out of her ability. Thus she is forever grateful to Spike Chunsoft for localizing it.

- Kui played Baldur's Gate 3 from the time it was in Early Access. Again, she's grateful for Spike Chunsoft's JP loc. She hoped BG3's success would bring the possibility of JP loc for other titles too, such as Pathfinder: wotr

- She likes games with top-down perspective because they have narration text for monologues and scenery description. Even if the graphic is lacking, the texts show the atmosphere and each character's behavior and psyche. Also, characters that react to your choices.

- She praised Unpacking and House Flipper for being able to tell what kind of person lives there only through their belongings, and that there's no right or wrong for the placements; she would make the best arrangement and then enjoy her hard work while sipping tea.

- The biggest inspiration for Dungeon Meshi was the Cosmic Forge pen from Wizardry VI. With improved graphics from its predecessor, now it could show broken farming tools in the background and many more details that made exploration so much fun.

- At the time of the interview (Dec '23) she still hadn't watched DunMeshi anime, but she attended the recording sessions. She's embarrassed that the dialog she wrote now acted passionately by professionals. Marcille's screaming was wonderful but also made her want to flee.

- Kui was anxious about the CP2077 anime adaptation, but she was relieved it was the Night City she knows and loves.

- Other than minor adjustments, she left it to TRIGGER as to how to adapt

- She's happy that Mitsuda Yasunori was chosen as the anime composer, as she used to play Chrono Cross and rewatched the opening many times.

- Her anticipated games in 2024 are Cloudpunk, Nivalis, and Avowed.

- DunMeshi would be hard to adapt into a game because in the first place, what Kui depicted in the manga are parts that are omitted in games for the sake of brevity.

- If DunMeshi game was Wizardry-like, it'd be told through Laios' perspective and eating was essential not to die

[starlinkcommunication]

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[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!

Caine's character description:

For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze. That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.

Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.

Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.

Though, he still likes to drink.

Fun facts about Caine:

He is a massive drunkard.

He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.

Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.

He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.

He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.

In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.

His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.

He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.

Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.

Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.

He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.

He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.

He doesn't like to talk about his past.

When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.

He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.

You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.

Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.

And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.

He's rarely seen without his cane.

He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.

Quotes:

"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."

"I think we can arrange that."

"This is not part of the plan!"

"No fighting! Take it outside."

"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."

"Hmm... quite intriguing."

"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."

"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"

"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."

"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."

"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"

"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"

"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"

"Oy vey..."

"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."

"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."

"Must we really resort to this method?"

"Oh, I just fixed that!"

"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"

"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."

"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"

"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."

"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."

"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."

[lijoue]

Paris World Mod

Pack your bags, we're taking a trip to Paris!

This mod transforms Britechester (Discover University) into a beautiful Paris-inspired world. With the help of bbygyal123, I've created a unique experience that goes beyond just an aesthetic backdrop. I hope this new world will inspire gorgeous stories for you & your sims! ♡

Beautiful Street Decor

The streets are decorated with Parisian buildings, cafes with outdoor seating, and more, including iconic Morris columns showcasing beautiful ads designed by bbygyal123.

Functional Parfumerie

An interactive shop where you can purchase functional perfumes. There are 4 different scents with custom buffs. Storefront design by bbygyal123.

Functional Pâtisserie

An interactive shop where you can purchase macarons and petits gateaux. So far you can order 3 sweet treats, but I plan to expand the menu in future updates!

Foxbury Campus Overhaul

I personally hated the sleek modern look of Foxbury, so I've replaced the buildings to look more like Britechester university. Note: I did my best to preserve the core Foxbury object interactions, but my focus was aesthetics first, so there may be a slightly 'imperfect' experience for sims attending Foxbury university.

Coffee Cart Overhaul

The university coffee carts have a new design and a new expanded menu, featuring food & drinks from various packs such as croissants, crepes, macarons and café lattes. (Only food from packs you own will work.)

Paris-Inspired CC

New objects that you can use to decorate your own builds, including a functional espresso machine for the obligatory french cafe.

Parisian builds by bbygyal123

Head over to her page to download the gorgeous lots she's created for this world!

Special Thanks / Credits

Thank you to bbygyal123 for creating the most gorgeous builds and artwork for the ads and storefronts!

Thank you to Lilac Creative for allowing us to use your branding for some of the ads!

Thank you to Softerhaze for allowing me to build the worlds with Sunblind.

Thank you to my patreons and followers for your encouragement and support!

—

Enjoy your time à Paris! ♡

Download (early access)

[fangswbenefits]

Another Chance

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You go into labour and all you know is that you need Miguel more than ever.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Mentions of childbirth. Dad Miguel. Comfort. Fluff. Happy father’s day to the best of the best!

“I'M GONNA KILL MIGUEL O’HARA!”

Usually, that sort of threat would send everyone that was standing around you into an uproar. But given the extremely specific set of circumstances, they merely exchanged understanding glances, returning their attention to the task at hand.

“Jess… I’m going to kill him.”

The pain of the contractions felt too unbearable and gritting out empty threats was the only relief you could find right now.

“You have my blessing,” she nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "But for now, we need to deliver the baby."

It was too early. This wasn't supposed to happen right now... not like this.

A spider-nurse approached you with a fetal heart monitor to strap around your belly. Your already accelarated heart nearly imploded at the sight, fearing what the machine might reveal.

"Jess... I can't do this..." your voice broke.

Where is he...

Where is Miguel?

Your friend glared at you with kind eyes, swipping a piece of cloth along your sweat-drenched forehead. "You can and you will."

As another contraction tore through your body, you barely managed to grab the railings of your bed with a huff of pain. The spider-nurse was done setting the monitor and was now probing your arm for a vein.

"Where is Miguel?" you managed through laboured pants. "Lyla... where is he?"

The AI's hologram appeared from the watch on your wrist, that Jess promptly removed. You gave her a confused look, but it was probably for the better.

"He should be here soon. The anomaly is—" Lyla was cut off immediately by Jess.

The heart monitor was switched on and the room went suddenly eerily too quiet, save for your gasps.

Tense seconds rolled by that felt like excrutiating hours, until the sound of a thudding heart was heard.

"Slightly accelerated heartrate going at 191 beats per minute," spider-doctor informed. "The baby might be in distress."

Panic took over. "Do something! Miguel!"

The team attending you were working relentlessly, but no consolation came. The pain was borderline unbearable and your fear for your child's life.

... and Miguel was not here.

"You need to push," one spider-nurse said.

"Push," Jess urged. "You're doing great," she added with a warm smile.

She kept trying her best to soothe and guide you through the untimely turmoil, but it wasn't until your eyes caught a flash of two sets of claws tearing through the barrier of time and space in the middle of the room that you allowed yourself to slump back into your bed.

A cry of relief broke from deep within you as a fully suited Miguel O'hara emerged through the portal, sprinting to your side. The mask vanished instantly as he framed your face with both hands.

"I'm here."

You started sobbing uncontrollably when he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"Boss, she's fully dilated," spider-doctor spoke. "We really need her to push now."

"Miguel... this wasn't..." you stammered, gritting your teeth as the crescendo of another contraction began. "Where... I—”

He hushed you and anchored you through the pain. "You have to push, okay?"

Compared to a few minutes ago, Miguel's presence was nothing short of absolute comfort. But it wasn't enough the push away the fear that had overtaken you.

Jess was still by your side, whispering encouraging words as the staff worked in between your spread legs. Your vision blurred momentarily and you felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to push.

"This is all your... fault," you seethed at Miguel.

"On that much we can agree," he said softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that mixed with sweat down your cheeks. "Push."

Blaming him was just a quick way to ease some of the frustration. He wasn't to blame. You had both wanted this.

"I can see the head!" you heard someone announce.

Miguel offered his hand for you to grip as you pushed. "I'll break it," you warned.

"You won't."

"He deserves it," Jess said teasingly.

But Miguel was right. As strong as you were — and the strength that women in labour were capable of mustering — you wouldn't even cause a dent in him. He was strong enough for the both of you.

"What´s taking so long?" his faint voice filled your ears.

"Almost there."

Suddenly, he had cradled your face in his large hands once more, forcing your eyes to fix on his. "You can do this. I'm so proud of you," he said, pecking the tip of your nose.

The air in your lungs was suddenly forced out with a finally throat-ripping grunt.

"It's here!"

You collapsed, feeling Miguel's arm promptly offering support on your back. A screeching sound of distress reverberated through the walls.

"It's a girl," one spider-nurse informed.

Even through your hazy eyes you were able to see Miguel's face, eyes transfixed on the little squirming baby that was being placed on your chest.

She was crying her heart out as someone who has been ripped from all the comfort and security a place could offer.

But now she had you and Miguel.

"She takes after you," you teased with a faint smile. "Already being so dramatic."

He chuckled, eyes permanently glued to the wailing baby. "I'm not dramatic. Just intense."

"Yes. Intensely dramatic.”

Miguel fell silent as he stroked a finger along the back of one soft tiny hand, miniscule fingers wrapping around it reflexively. The cries stopped abruptly.

His face softened and you wondered if he was about to tear up. He had longed for this for such a long time.

"Miguel?" Jessica said, covering your child with a towel.

He seemed too lost in his own thoughts, glaring at his daughter in a way that overwhelmed you. Like it was meant to be.

"I'll be going now," she said, offering you both a warm smile before leaving.

Suddenly, you realised Miguel was inspecting each limb with utmost attention. "What are you doing?"

He cleared his throat, placing a tiny hand on the palm of his. "Oh... uh... just counting how many fingers and toes she has."

"All five?" you offered with a chuckle.

"All five."

"No talons?"

He glared at you as if taken aback, then smiled. "Maybe one day."

"Do you think she'll have your fangs?"

"Oh, I hope not," he said, slowly checking the baby's bare gums. "That would be painful."

You then allowed yourself to take in the sight of your now relaxed daughter that lay on top of you. The wispy beginnings of hair that covered the top of her head were dark. Babies don't tend to resemble either parent when they're born - or so Miguel had once told you - and you couldn't wait to find out.

"What if... she doesn't like me?" he whispered, caressing a puffy cheek.

You almost chuckled, but he was dead serious. "She'll love you."

He leaned to place a kiss to your temple. "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked, feeling your heart bursting with absolute adoration for him.

"For giving me another chance at being a father."

Masterlist

[gallifreyanhotfive]

What Stories Are About the Academy Era? A Guide

@zombies-sold-cheap

Context:

Stories set in the Academy Era/Otherwise Early Days are sparse to say the least (even Divided Loyalties only shows you the Academy through a dream), but you can actually piece together a pretty decent chunk of the Doctor’s early life (while it still remaining very mysterious) using the Expanded Universe. I've done a lot of infodumping in my time, so I'll do my best here by typing up my personal reference guide to this era. Anyway:

Theta Sigma and his friends would attempt to climb Mount Cadon. At the peak, you could apparently see all of time, but they never got to the top because of hallucinogenic snow. While attempting such a climb, Vansell broke his leg, and Theta Sigma fixed it with a time bubble he made from a sonic wrench and some twine. (Audio: Devil in the Mist)

Theta Sigma and Koschei traveled into the past of Gallifrey in search of Valdemar. Theta was horrified by the power that Valdemar represented, but Koschei was intrigued. (Novel: Tomb of Valdemar)

Theta Sigma time-locked his dorm room so thoroughly that even centuries after he graduated they hadn't managed to undo it. (Audio: Time in Office)

Theta Sigma also once used the food machine to get mercury for his own science projects and in doing so almost caused his professor to regenerate. (Audio: Time in Office)

At some point, Theta Sigma and Koschei traveled to the planet Machasma and used sonic agitation to get them out of trouble. (Audio: Darkness and Light)

Theta Sigma, Koschei, and three others were part of a band called the Gallifrey Academy Hot Five (see: my username). Theta Sigma played the perigosto sticks, and Koschei played the drums. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

Millennia came from a wealthy family and was gifted in temporal engineering. She and Rallon had a "thing" for each other (wink wink) (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma once made High Tutor Albrecht regenerate in an incident involving a perigosto stick and a temporal feedback loop. He was reprimanded by Borusa for this. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

Koschei was obsessed with the Necronomicon. (Short story: The Nameless City)

Runcible was the hall monitor at the Academy and regularly got into conflicts with the Deca because it was his job to make sure students were in bed after dark. They have mutual hatred of each other. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Indeed, the Master would one day stab him in the back and kill him. (Television: The Deadly Assassin)

Drax built a skimmer and would sometimes use it to take Jelpax home because they lived close to each other. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma attended Ushas's 94th birthday party. (Novel: The Death of Art)

Theta Sigma engineered a dangerous bacteria that rendered all multicellular life that came in contact with it comatose. This was a huge scandal on Gallifrey, and the Academy thoroughly hushed it up and had all samples destroyed. However, Ushas kept a sample and would one day use it in a scheme as the Rani. (Audio: Planet of the Rani)

Koschei taught Theta Sigma hypnosis. He'd also hypnotize others a lot because he thought it was amusing. (Novel: The Dark Path)

Mortimus once asked Ushas out but was so thoroughly rejected that he thought she wasn't interested in dating at all. Unbeknownst to him, Ushas later had a relationship with Magnus. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma and Koschei were bullied by Torvic. Theta was eventually forced to kill Torvic to save Koschei's life, but when Death came to offer Theta to be their disciple, he had Koschei take his place. He forgot about this deal and lived for centuries under the impression that their places had been swapped and that it had been Koschei to kill Torvic. (Audio: Master)

Despite this, he apparently drew pictures of Torvic in his diary. (Short story: The Three Paths)

Theta Sigma was also bullied by Anzor at the Academy. Anzor would use a galvanizer to make Theta do his navigational homework. He also turned another student named Cheevah into a crystal and threw him off a bell tower. (Audio/Novel: Mission to Magnus)

Koschei was in charge of organizing the end of term parties, but the Eighth Doctor recalled that they weren’t good. (Comic: The Glorious Dead)

Theta Sigma and Koschei would sneak out of the Capitol and go drinking with the Shobogans. (Novel: The Eight Doctors)

Theta Sigma was given an avatroid named Badger as a young child to act as his friend, protector, and tutor. He apparently gives bone crushing hugs. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Theta Sigma did not have a good relationship with most of the House of Lungbarrow. Indeed, his first memory is of Satthralope smacking him so hard he could not walk afterwards. (Audio/Novel: Cold Fusion)

Satthralope would also let the drudges attack Theta if he refused to come to dinner. Drudges are basically servants of the Houses, about two and a half meters tall, and strong enough to hold a fully grown Time Lord in one arm. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

One time, those at the House of Lungbarrow wanted Theta Sigma to return home for Otherstide and even sent Badger to collect him. Theta refused, so they contacted his professor Delox, who proceeded to expel him from her classroom after chastising him on his family in front of the entire class. After this, Theta appeared to exhibit many of the signs I associate with a nervous breakdown. Distressed, Theta came up with an idea that would prove he wasn't what they all said he was - he would go after the Toymaker. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Millennia and Rallon were the only two to join him on this trip, the rest of the Deca thinking them mad. They stole a Type 18 TARDIS, and after making it to the Toyroom, Rallon's body was basically immediately taken over by the Toymaker. The Toymaker had Theta play a game of Capture the Flag. He turned Millennia into one of his dolls, and Theta returned to Gallifrey, the only survivor. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Because of these events, Theta was put on trial. The only two to attend this trial to support Theta were Jelpax and Magnus. Vansell showed up but only to reveal that he had been working with the CIA, having been tasked with watching Theta. Koschei and Ushas had been off working on a research project at the time. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

While Theta, Rallon, and Millennia were gone, Mortimus ran away from Gallifrey, which made many think he had gone with them, and eventually also ended up in the Toyroom. (Novel: Divided Loyalties) Other accounts suggest Mortimus left Gallifrey later, so perhaps he returned after this trip.

Theta Sigma was on the same zero-grav hyperball team as Padrac, who he called "Paddy." (Audio: The Eleven)

Theta and Koschei's "kindergarten spat" apparently almost destroyed the planet. During this time, Theta used to call Koschei "Scabby Knees." (Audio: Blood of the Time Lords)

Theta Sigma had no friends in his very early life. Instead of creating imaginary friends, he had an imaginary enemy called Mandrake. Mandrake was actually a dead lizard he pinned to an engine part that Theta would defeat using a stick. (Audio: The Widow's Assassin)

There was a Hermit who lived behind the House of Lungbarrow on the mountain. Theta Sigma once went to him, depressed and full of despair, and the Hermit showed him hope in yellow flowers. (Television: The Time Monster)

Shimmerlings live in the time vortex, but after a storm, they were stranded on Gallifrey and dying. A very young Theta Sigma saw the Hermit throwing them into the Untempered Schism to save them. Theta asked him what was the point because he wouldn't be able to save them all before they died, and the Hermit taught him the value in saving who he could, despite not being able to save everyone. (Audio: Crossed Lines)

Theta Sigma was the Time Tot Hide And Seek Champion for 42 years in a row, which apparently drove Ushas nuts. (Comic: Weapons of Past Destruction)

When Maris - a retired CIA agent - was hired to find out where Theta Sigma, now probably the Doctor, had run off to in the TARDIS, Ushas and Koschei kidnapped her, interrogated her in an attempt to find where the Doctor had gone, and eventually almost killed her when she knew nothing (she was extracted from the situation before she could be murdered). (Short story: Celestial Intervention - A Gallifreyan Noir)

After graduating, Magnus rose quickly in Time Lord society, which Borusa felt threatened by. Borusa had the CIA manufacture evidence implicating Magnus in treason, leading to him fleeing Gallifrey and becoming a renegade. (Novel: Timewyrm: Exodus)

Koschei befriended a professor at the Academy named Salyavin because he wanted access to the restricted libraries. He wanted to find The Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey, an act which was illegal. Salyavin took the blame for this, was sent to Shada, and stole the book (since he was condemned anyway, he might as well). (Short story: The Legacy of Gallifrey)

Theta Sigma and Ruath, another student at the Academy who was obsessed with vampires, once electrified Borusa's perigosto stick. (Novel: Goth Opera)

After the Academy, Koschei attended a ritual with Theta Sigma and Susan, then likely called Arkytior, in Arcadia. Here, he gave her a toy, which was actually a communication node that he planned to use to find Theta and her if they ever left Gallifrey. (Audio: The Toy)

According to one account, Koschei led students at the Academy in a coup against Lord President Pundat the Third and tried to convince Theta Sigma to join. Pundat died of stress soon after the revolt and was replaced with Chancellor Slann. There was a second coup, but they were overheard by the authorities trying to yet again convince Theta to help. After each coup, there were bloody reprisals against the students, but Theta, who was not involved, had his memory wiped. Koschei assassinated Slann, but the students weren't ready for another go. He ended up fleeing Gallifrey. (Short story: Birth of a Renegade) There are, however, many other accounts of him fleeing Gallifrey.

Koschei and a "friend" were locked in a bathroom of a bar in the Tower by the Time Lords after a prank gone wrong. The two fought, and the friend left Koschei behind in the Tower, where he remained locked in for centuries. (Short story: Rebel Rebel)

Theta called Vansell "Nosebung" and continued to do so for centuries. (Audio: Neverland)

Theta Sigma came in fourth place in the Time Lord Academy Sprint Championship. (Comic: Space in Dimension Relative in Time)

Theta Sigma fed a snapping wart fowl to Valyes's summer project, and Valyes still holds a grudge over this. (Audio: The Next Life)

Flubbles are koala-like animals with six legs. Theta Sigma used to keep one under his bed at the Academy as an illegal pet. He almost got caught when she went into heat and started performing her mating call. (Novel: Island of Death)

Theta Sigma used to chase tafelshrews - a species almost like rodents - through the snow of Mount Cadon. (Short story: The Three Paths)

By some accounts, Theta Sigma was loomed, and by some, he had parents. In a version where he had parents, his father and Mr. Saldaamir were once working in the House and were therefore ignoring Theta. Because of this, Theta, at this point a small child, caught a cobblemouse and set it loose in the House, interrupting their plans. (Novel: Unnatural History)

A cousin of Theta's - Glospin - used to bully him quite a lot. He once claimed to find evidence in the Loom pointing to the fact that Theta did not belong in the House of Lungbarrow. If this was believed, Theta Sigma would have been executed. This caused the two to have a physical altercation. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

During this fight, Glospin got a genetic sample from Theta, allowing him to force a regeneration into a Theta lookalike. Then, Glospin murdered Quences, the Kithriarch of the House of Lungbarrow (basically the head of the family), before regenerating again, thus framing Theta for the murder. This was because Glospin wanted to become the next Kithriarch instead of Theta, but because of this, the House of Lungbarrow buried themself (the Houses are sentient, did I mention that?) for centuries. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Despite doting on Theta (and Theta generally being his favorite), Quences had been convinced by Satthralope to disown him when he announced he didn't want to be a Lord Cardinal. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Some of Theta's cousins include Quences, Satthralope, Glospin, Innocet, Arkhew, Owis, Salpash, Luton, Rynde, Jobiska, Maljamin, Farg, Celesia, Chovor, DeRoosifa, and Almund. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Grandfather Paradox was also of the House of Lungbarrow from the same generation as Theta, but of course, he never actually existed. (Novel: Christmas on a Rational Planet)

Pandad VII issued a Burn Edict on Braxiatel, but Braxiatel killed his would be assassin. As punishment, Braxiatel was forced to take up the mantle of Lord Burner for some time, the personal assassin for Lord President Pandad VII. He was ordered to erase an old man and his granddaughter (wink wink) who were fleeing Gallifrey from history but refused to do so and let them go free. That very same day, Pandad died when a power relay that was in his office overloaded, but an inquiry led by Braxiatel found that this was an accident. Just an accident. Nothing shady going on here. (Audio: Disassembled)

Magnus tried to drain the Artron energy from a giant sphere from the time vortex. Theta Sigma opposed him and used the gun of a member of the Chancellery Guard to stop him from draining the energy because he had learned that the energy was alive. This set the energy free. Magnus never forgave him for this, and their friendship ended. (Comic: Flashback)

Theta Sigma had a great aunt lived in a house high in the mountains. She would sing him lullabies. The Eighth Doctor said she was "terrible." (Audio: Together in Eclectic Dreams)

Anyhow, I'm spent, so I'll post this now. Might add on some more later lmaoooo

Don't forget to check out the next part in the reblogs!

[em-dash-press]

Ways to Skip Time In Your Stories

Finding ways to skip time in stories can feel challenging. Writers often worry it’ll make their work feel too amateur or negatively affect their pacing. 

The truth is that every author includes ways they skip time to maintain their pacing and plot. Check out a few ways to do it with confidence. 

1. Start a New Chapter

Yes, it’s really that simple. Go back to your favorite books and note how each chapter ends. You’ll likely find a few of these tricks that transition the story in ways that match the story’s flow.

Ideas to End a Chapter

The protagonist goes to sleep (likely overused, but practical)

The characters end a conversation

One character informs another of a plot twist

Unexpected action occurs, like a car crash

2. Emphasize the Season

You don’t need to tell the reader exact dates or hours to pass the time. You could mention the season instead.

If a scene or chapter ends in the summer and you need your plot to start in winter, make your protagonist mention something about the leaves changing color and giving way to snow before your action picks up again. It will only take a sentence or two, so it’s also an effective method for short stories.

3. Visualize a Movie Montage

Imagine watching a movie about a character who goes on a summer adventure. They backpack through Europe, but they have to take a flight to get there. 

You likely wouldn’t see them standing in airport security lines, napping in a terminal or watching a full movie on their flight to their destination. Instead, you’d get a montage of them driving to the airport with a shot of their plane cruising over the open ocean.

Writers can do the same thing, minus the soundtrack in the background. Describe how your character got to their destination when a new chapter or scene starts. Your readers will get the general idea and appreciate getting straight to the plot that made them pick up your story in the first place.

Here are a few ideas to do this in just a few sentences:

One delayed flight and a bad airplane dinner later, I was walking out of the Amsterdam-Schiphol Airport with an aching back and excited heart.

My trip began with the perfect flight. I got an entire row of seats to myself, which made napping through the trip much easier. A flight attendant roused me awake when it was time to land. I couldn’t believe how fast I’d arrived in Athens that quickly.

My flight was just long enough to catch up on the movies I’d been missing over the last year. The landing gear bounced along the runway in Rome just as the Barbie credits started flashing across my iPad.

4. Showcase Some Confusion

Sometimes we aren’t aware of what time it is. We only know time has passed. That might be the best way to make time pass in your story if your protagonist gets confused, caught by surprise, or otherwise discombobulated.

These are some examples:

I woke up with a bad taste in my mouth. The sun was already peaking in the clear blue sky. How long had it been since my explosive video call with my ex the night before?

The time machine landed with a thud that knocked me to the ground. The control panel exploded in shimmering sparks. What year was it?

Working a double shift always left my brain spinning. I left work, walking across the parking lot with only the stars watching my back. I could feel the hours aching in my feet, but didn’t care what time it really was. I just needed to sleep.

5. Employ a Phrase

There are many quick phrases you can use to make your time jumps immediately clear. Consider using a few of these when you feel creatively stuck:

Later that morning

A few weeks later

After months of trying

Six hours later

The following week

As the store closed for the night

-----

There are many other ways to make time pass in a story. Starting with these could help you figure out the best way to move your story forward without disrupting its pacing. 

Remember, you’re in control of your story at all times. There’s always a way through creative challenges if you take a deep breath and try something new.