#I’ve finally got an editing program

[turnaboutanew]

I’ll be talking about him alright. (Volume warning and flashing visuals/colours)

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

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

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

[qwertyprophecy]

Mortholme Post-Mortem

The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.

Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:

Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release

Regarding time spent on development

Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:

Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.

Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.

Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.

Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.

Regarding programming

The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.

Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.

The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…

The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…

Regarding obstacles

Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)

There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.

I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)

Regarding Godot

It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.

New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.

Regarding animation

I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.

Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.

Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.

Regarding pixel art

The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.

At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)

I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.

Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.

Regarding environment assets

The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.

This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.

I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!

Regarding writing

Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.

What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!

The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.

Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!

A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:

Regarding completion

The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)

I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)

Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!

A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.

That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.

Regarding release

Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.

1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.

Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.

2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.

I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.

Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.

Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.

[eatingdemapples]

this might be the most important message i’ve ever said on here. while I am so excited about the growth of women’s sports we need to do a better job at protecting female athletes !!!

the way ppl treat angel reese is diabolical. I mean the comments on EVERY single angel reese post make me want to throw up. I have NEVER seen someone so hated on for everything they do OR don’t do. like how do these adults in the media look themselves in the mirror, or their daughters, or mothers. she has done nothing but good things for women’s basketball. THEN finally she speaks out not to long ago about another issue of people over sexualizing her. and now when she posts a bikini pic ppl are like “oh but u don’t want to be sexualized?” AHHH im getting angry now because just thinking of how young angel is and so many other college athletes it’s sick. DO YALL KNOW THEY WERE CREATING AI NUDES OF HER. Could you IMAGINE seeing that shit of yourself or your daughter or your sister in the internet!? what is wrong with people.

and with Paige, like yes there are edits all over the internet of her, she’s great at basketball, she’s got rizz, how about SHES STILL IN COLLEGE and has grown men posting on the internet stalking her. threatening her and buying tickets to her games like!??! she’s just in college playing the game she loves and now you’re waking up being scrutinized and honestly over sexualized all over the internet.

I don’t want people to wait until a girl ends up in a really dangerous situation for us to START TALKING ABOUT IT. basic compassion for women in media especially sports is rare and that’s sad.

Harper Murray is a college vb star at Nebraska. She was the NUMBER 1 recruit in her class, played in a stadium of 92,000 ppl (the most attended women’s sporting event like ever). then she loses the natty in 2023 and all because of 1 press conference where she was “overly confident” in saying she’s going to win the national championship the next three years, she was bullied so bad by the internet it damn near killed her. it ended in a mental health diagnosis, DUI, and an outpatient program. and she CONTINUES to be bullied on the internet last vb season!!! as an 18 year old girl in the sport that she loves, jumped by grown ass adults! unbelievable. don’t even get me started on if she were a man or a college football player they would’ve been eating that confidence up.

I hope the adults in all these women’s lives and the leagues have mental health practices in place, safety practices in place. and for fans positive comments and engagement with these athletes can change everything! anyways idk man that’s my rant.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy For The Devil ~ Donaka Mark x fem!Reader

please allow me to introduce myself, i am a man of wealth & taste... -the Rolling Stones

Summary/ Warnings. Um… Donaka Mark is a scary rich asshole–with a soft spot for you. If you’re squeamish [or righteous] you’re not gonna want to read this. Voyeurism. Predatory behavior, manipulation. Power IMBALANCE. Eventual NSFW. Eventual line between dubcon and noncon is gonna be microscopic, y’all, this man plays gAmes… Reader is shy, but tough, in her way.  Also, when I say Reader is small, I’m more implying just compared to Donaka. I kind of assume most of us would be, no matter your body type. 🥵

Big Fat Author’s note: This is a Donaka Mark x fem!Housekeeper!Reader fic based on the brilliant @discoscoob ‘s bot, which is SO fun to play with and I really recommend it. I fell into a rabbit hole for daaaaays. I’m in CAI Anonymous now. Seriously it was a problem. 

I guess you could call this a little experimental hybrid fic written with AI. I was curious. And after working on this for weeks I don’t think the writer’s union really needs to worry about AI coming for their jobs. The bot’s writing is shamelessly fun but clunky, you delete more than you keep, it’s a lot of work to edit, and you really have to lead it by the hand for anything to actually HAPPEN. 

THAT SAID it is sO entertaining, and once in a while he’d do something i wouldn’t have ever thought of, I felt like the lab rat hitting the button for the treat over and over again, LOL. Disco really knew what she was doing when she programmed the personality of the bot!  It was also helpful in keeping a character on track. I think AI could be a useful tool generating ideas, breaking writers block, or something to bounce ideas off of, but not for the grunt work of actually writing a story that has any soul in it. Isn’t that a relief? I made an outline for the first 9 chapters and basically ran the scenes through like a simulator to see what the bot came up with. And when I didn’t like it I made it do it again, LOL, the Donaka bot probably thinks i’m a bossy c*nt.🤣 After that, I'm afraid we can only blame our own unhinged brains for what's here, it got too raunchy for the bot to handle, and this fic never would have become what it is without the help of our little community here, the comments and head canons and brain rot, I love you guys!

So….I hope you enjoy, and a HUGE THANKS to Disco for giving me permission to even do this, you’re the sweetest my dear, and the Queen of the Bot Creators in my book!!

And and…it’s been a LONG ass time since I’ve been to Hong Kong. I did some research to refresh my memory but please bear with me. All mistakes are my own. Why do we say that? Who the fuck else’s would they be? 🤣 Obv. this is set c 2013, when Man of Tai Chi came out, before the crackdown in 2020. Oh, and, I have no real idea about work visas, i made that shit up... just roll with it. 🙃😘

One. 一

The first time you meet your new employer, Donaka Mark, you aren’t really even paying attention.

It’s because you have on headphones, and you’re intently focused on sweeping the floor while listening to your upbeat girl power rock mix–so you don’t hear him yelling at someone over the phone threateningly, and you don’t notice when his gaze locks on to you like a tiger who has just spied a tasty little deer.

You are oblivious, as he comes up behind you, appraising your figure with narrowed eyes. You seem small, next to him, but most women do. He decides he approves of his assistant’s choice in hiring you. You’re a sight he won’t tire of for a long time.

Donaka leans on the door frame, his dark eyes fixated on you, taking in your every minute detail, the way the muscles in your arms move, the shape of your face, the curve of your hips and your little feet.

His expression is stoic but behind it are a million thoughts running through his mind, he can’t take his eyes off you and after a few moments he finally speaks, his dark tone cutting through the music.

“You’re new.”

Your music wasn't so loud that you were unaware of outside sounds. Standing up straight, you sweep off your headphones to face the commanding voice. "Yes, sir?"

Donaka notices he towers over you, and he likes that. His dark eyes shamelessly take in your innocent eyes, your lips, your  curves. His gaze lingers almost long enough to make it uncomfortable, but not quite.

“Have you been informed of all of your duties?” Donaka asks, his tone and gaze both demanding and intense, making you feel small.

"Yes, Mr. Mark."

Donaka smiles at his name on your lips, the way you say it, the way you look up at him with your wide eyes. He likes it more than he’d like to admit, but he knows how to mask his emotions well.

Even though his expression is still stony, there’s a hint of excitement in his breast as he leans off the door frame and takes a few steps closer, but still maintains a respectable distance.

“And you can handle them?”

"Yes, Sir."

Donaka nods, his dark eyes slowly and shamelessly trailing over your figure again.

“Good.” Donaka murmurs, his dark and intense tone making his next sentence more of a demand. “I need to be able to depend on you. I like things just so.”

You tilt your head, feeling like you’re missing some subtext, or that you’re the butt of an unspoken joke. "Your house will be clean, Sir.” Between you and the two other girls on the household staff, surely you could manage.

Donaka smirks at your naïve reply, his dark eyes still fixated on your face as he takes another step closer to you, almost like a predator stalking its prey.

“I trust that it will…” Donaka purrs, his voice low and smooth, his dark stare intense and demanding. “Let me show you the rest of the house…”

You’d already received a walk-through with his assistant, but you are more than intrigued to receive a personal tour from the big man himself. There is something captivating about him. It's not just his good looks. His presence commands your attention.

Donaka can feel you watching him as you follow him down the hallway, the way you’re intrigued by him, the way you’re staring. It fills him with satisfaction, like you’re a new prize he’s added to the shelf of his collection.

He’s aware of the effect he has on people. Men fear him, women want him. Yet you don’t look at him with the same blatant hunger he’s used to from the opposite sex. You’re curious, but not ready to fall down on your knees yet. 

He would see how long it takes to change that.

He glances over his shoulder at you as he leads you through the house, his dark eyes looking you up and down again. You follow close, taking two steps for every one of his, his legs are so long.

He can’t help but feel somewhat amused, enjoying the way you have to scurry to keep up with him. He can’t help but think how easy it would be, to pick you up, and to pin you down…

Donaka Mark’s home is an achievement of luxury architecture, dark, modern, yet filled with Chinese elements of style. Ceiling-high tinted windows afford a breathtaking view of the bay. His living room is like a museum filled with priceless artifacts. Antique carved ivory elephant tusks, beautiful Ming vases and exquisite stone Elder statues, silk scrolls and bladed weapons. All of it you will be expected to keep tidy with a painstaking hand. You think it’s possible your practically useless degree in art history and former employment in a gallery may have given you an edge in his assistant’s selection of hiring you.

He seems to genuinely enjoy your interest in these things, telling you about them at length. There is a large Qing dynasty vase in cobalt blue and gold enamel designs of clouds, cranes, and bats you cannot tear your eyes from. It looks…familiar, and in person, utterly enchanting.

“You like that one?”

“I like bats,” you admit, shoving your hands in your apron pockets so that you do not forget yourself and touch it with your bare fingers. You will be wearing gloves, when you detail these items. 

He lifts an eyebrow at that, seemingly amused. “Oh?”

“They’re cute. And…they’re good luck.” In Chinese culture, at least. 

“Most women I’ve met find them sinister.” 

“I think…they’re just misunderstood.” You can’t help looking up at this intimidating man through your eyelashes at that. You swear you didn’t mean to start double talking with your new boss–it just falls out of your stupid mouth, and you feel his attention upon you sharpen.  

He’s used to women looking at him in a certain way, women staring up at him with lustful hunger.

The way you look at him feels different –like you truly see him–he’s not sure what to make of it yet, and that is certainly new for Donaka Mark.

“Misunderstood?” he repeats, his dark gaze intense, looking down at you from his lofty elevation.

"Sure. They have a reputation for being scary, but really they eat mosquitoes and pollinate plants. Without them whole ecosystems would collapse."

Donaka hums at your words, finding it surprisingly endearing. He’s usually used to women fawning over him or at least trying to seduce him, but you’re here lecturing him about bats.

His smirk remains on his face as he watches you fidget nervously, his dark eyes fixed on you. You look back to the vase, and then it dawns on you. “Oh my god…is this the piece that sold at Christies last year for like…1.5 million dollars?” You take another cautious step backwards, as though you might shatter it if you breathe wrong. You saw it in an article–the gold enamel had been so distinctive against the blue. Sacrifice blue, the same as in the Temple of Heaven in Beijing.

Only after the question falls from your mouth do you realize how gauche it is to ask, your hands flying to your lips. “Forgive me, it’s none of my business.”

Mark, however, just continues to look at you interestedly. “You follow auction results?”

“I follow…art news,” you confess.

He nods, his intense gaze starting to become uncomfortable. “Actually, it was 1.8 million. You think I overpaid?”

You feel like this is a test–or a trap. It was a nice job, for the day it lasted…

“Well…it doesn’t seem you bankrupted yourself?”

He snorts in answer, shaking his head. 

“Does it make you happy?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, as though the thought hadn't even occurred to him. “It made me happy to outbid a Sheikh’s son and a Mainlander plastics tycoon for it,” he admits.

Ah, so he was invested in the thrill of acquisition–not appreciation for the object itself. You shouldn’t be surprised.

“I see.”

“I’ve disappointed you.” It’s not phrased as a question.

You shake your head, though maybe it does a little. Looking around his home, you’d thought Mark had exquisite taste–but he probably has an art buyer like every other obscenely rich businessman needing to acquire items for the sake of cachet. 

“Does it make you happy?” he asks, and there is an unexpected hint of playfulness in the question–delivered on a knife’s edge.

“Yes,” you admit. Frankly you’re stunned you get to see it like this, without a glass barrier or sensors or alarms. It’s usually the only way people like you get to enjoy art like this.

He smirks at you. “Then it was worth every penny.” He’s being sarcastic, of course, but there is a glitter of something in his dark eyes. It’s there and gone, like ripples in a pool–it makes your heart skip in your chest.

“Let me show you the rest of the house,” he invites, before placing a hand on your lower back, his fingers large and strong against your soft skin as he gently guides you away from the vase and to the next room.

His light touch makes you aware of every nerve in your body. It's not quite improper enough to complain about--you’re sure he’s well aware of that. 

And…there's the fact, deep down, that you like it. 

The span of his big hand on your spine makes you feel impossibly small, and protected, and that is insane, of course, because you are just the maid. 

He shows you the library, filled with built-in bookcases that make you drool, his office with his huge carved ebony desk that makes you think impure thoughts…and then, his bedroom.

He isn’t oblivious to the way your reaction changes as you enter the room where he sleeps.

He can see the way your eyes roam and your expression changes, the way you look at the massive bed against the far wall, the way your eyes widen when you look at the expensive rosewood furniture and the stunning view out the wall of windows that can be brightened or obscured with a dimmer switch.

He watches you intently as he takes in your every reaction.

He's all business on the surface, specifying clean sheets every other day, laundry, and daily detailing of the bathroom. But it's hard not to keep looking over at the bed, even out the corner of your eye.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, but he doesn’t push it, staying just this side of the line. You don't linger, and he shows you a more private lounging area filled with a long leather couch, additional chairs, and monitors, all black at the moment. There's something almost sinister about all the screens, and you wonder what all he's watching.

“You must really like movies?” you ask hopefully, and he senses the wariness in you. Your intuitiveness gives him a small thrill–he likes it, that you’re smart enough to be afraid. 

“I like to watch all kinds of things,” he tells you, almost like a dare for you to guess what that means. “But mostly…I use these for business. I run a security company, I assume you’re aware?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Donaka decides he loves hearing the submission in your tone when you call him Sir. It’s almost like a promise to keep him happy, to do exactly as he says.

He asks you to keep all the screens clean, and to dust the cords and routers and be careful not to unplug anything. 

Then your attention turns to a meditation area, a massive sand sculpture on the wall and the floor, flanked by natural stacked stone. “Wow, been a while since someone vacuumed here,” you crack, earning a reluctant huff of laughter from the man behind you. 

“Maybe…leave that alone, for now,” he requests, then his hand is on your back again, guiding you out. 

Though it’s not going to be your area of responsibility, he shows you the garden next. It's a beautiful, manicured space. Two Rottweilers patrol the grounds. They look fierce, but one immediately comes up, sniffing you and leaning on your leg for a pet.

Donaka blinks as his reputably ferocious and staggeringly expensive pure-bred guard animals roll over at your feet for a belly rub.  Delighted, you pet them both, speaking to them sweetly. They grin up at you, their dagger-like canines glinting in the sun. 

He is never one to be moved by anything sentimental, but something about the sight of you like this inspires a warm twinge in his chest–heartburn, he reasons.

“Let me guess,” he says acerbically. “They’re just misunderstood?”

You press your lips, trying to suppress a smile, and failing. "Animals tend to like me?" 

He can honestly admit, as he watches you crouch down to administer a belly rub, that he’s never been jealous of a dog before. 

Sensing that maybe you’re not doing the dogs or yourself any favors with this severe man, you try to shoo them off. "Ok, babies. Go back to being fierce again. Shoo."

Donaka snorts with amusement as he watches you attempt to gently shoo these dogs that are nearly as big as you are. Suddenly he whistles sharply, administering a sharp command in Cantonese. That is when the dogs jerk to attention, and trot off to patrol the grounds again.

He turns his attention back to you, taking in your slight expression of surprise, clearly caught off guard.

"That was impressive,” you admit. “What did you say?” 

“I told them to get back to work,” says Donaka with a smirk.

“Ah. I guess I better learn that one.” 

“Will I be needing to reprimand you too, Miss y/n?” 

You’re not sure why his dark stare calls up a boiling heat inside you at that moment. You press your thighs beneath your dress, under the guise of standing up straight. You’re afraid…he knows all too well. 

“I…certainly hope not.” You’re pretty sure that you’d pee yourself if this intimidating man raised his voice to you. 

“Have you learned much Chinese since you’ve been here?” he asks conversationally, just as you assumed it was time for you to get back to work. 

“I can count to ten, and say thank you,” you admit, a little embarrassed. Obviously, you intend to learn more. “The essentials for international travel.” You’d originally come to Hong Kong to teach English, but when you saw the pay attached to this job listing you couldn’t resist the opportunity. Teaching was ok, but you hadn’t anticipated how expensive this city would be. You’d only made enough to cover your basic expenses month to month, with no room to save or do any fun activities or side trips to the mainland. This position paid three times as much–and you were beginning to understand why. 

“Hmm. Have you traveled much?” He seems skeptical, and you don’t really blame him. 

“I’ve…been all over the world,” you admit, albeit it was on a shoestring. “I wanted to be a travel writer.” 

“Wanted to be?” He is a man who picks up on subtlety immediately. 

It’s a dream you’ve all but given up on, after publishing a few articles, but all in all it was more slog than triumph. You’re not cut out for the grind of periodical work, the stress and the deadlines. It sucks all the joy out of writing for you. You shrug with a little sigh. 

“I hope you will remember the NDA you signed to work here?” he asks, his dark eyes roaming your face, taking in your every micro-expression. You would really hate trying to lie to this man. Good thing you’re not a corporate spy. He’d probably…string you up, and do something unmentionable to you. 

Why the thought titillates you more than scares you, you have no idea. 

“Of course, Sir.” He seems satisfied with this. So why do you have to add, “I won’t tell anyone your guard dogs are suckers for a belly scratch.” 

He frowns down at you, stepping in close so that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. It’s intimidating as hell, and you know he knows it too. You admit that you are shaking in your shoes under that look, until a smirk breaks his intense expression, and the relief you feel is palpable. 

“I would appreciate that, Miss y/n.”

Donaka savors the satisfaction he feels in flustering you, enjoying the way you swallow, watching the muscles in your throat. He imagines what his hand would look like there, on your delicate skin, your pulse fluttering against his strong fingers. He would literally hold your life in his hands…and the moment you surrendered to him, he would so enjoy rewarding you for it…

He finds himself caught up in this little daydream, while you stand before him, practically hypnotized like a mouse before a hungry snake. “Y/n?”

“Sir?” you answer quietly, and he revels in your deference. This was going to be fun. 

He speaks Cantonese again, softly this time, the language beautiful and whispery on his tongue. You find yourself staring at his lush, pink, lips, and it takes you several moments to realize he’d said the same thing he’d told the dogs: get back to work. 

Flooded with embarrassment, your face on fire, you stutter, “Yes, Sir.” 

With a dark chuckle and his hands in the pockets of his designer suit, he watches as you practically flee back to the house. 

The Smithsonian article about this vase...

Aesthetic post about Donaka's house...

Part 2 -->

all chapters

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 9 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: phew! this took me five million years and a bag of candy to write. remember when I told you to remember the house layout? 😉 Enjoy!

small mention: I absolutely love knowing you all are curious about the next chapter of this series. I appreciate and love all comments I get, and try to keep all my promises I make. but, trust I’m human too and need some away from writing. Though, when rude and harassing words are used in my inbox- the joy of writing this series gets absolutely sucked away. (If I’ve answered your message, this isn’t about your comment 🫶) so, please keep your rude words to yourself or I’ll turn off anonymous inbox messages and block you the next time :)

W/C: 4.016

part eight

"I should've just taken a break to go on vacation."

Lina sighs, poking her salad with her fork, and guiding the mixture of greens and dressing up to her mouth.

"Didn't you take a trip to Paris last international break?"

Luis says, raising a brow at her words. He turns his head towards me, nudging me under the table.

"Can you believe her?" He asks, an exasperated chuckle leaving his lips. It causes me to jolt out of my half-asleep state, my eyes widening in surprise.

"What? Who?" I ask looking around and bring a hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I had rushed out of the house this morning, which meant everyone got the chance to admire my bare skin today.

Well, my stress-induced breakouts were on full display, but having some pimples wasn’t the end of the damn world anyway.

"Are you okay?" Lina joins in, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just dozed off- been sleeping horribly." I reply, eyeing my lunch with a grimace.

"Are those exams still keeping you up?"

"More like waking me up.. Do you know how many nightmares of failing an exam a person can take?” I say, my words coming out harsher and louder than I intended. My eye twitches in irritation, and I give them a crazy look.

"Woah, you have an attitude today.." Luis mutters, shifting away from me.

"Don’t piss her off.." I hear Lina say, nudging Luis.

"Never mind, I'm going back to work." I state, quickly putting my tray of food away and walking out of the cafeteria.

I mutter curses under my breath, trying to look as normal as possible to my coworkers when I pass them in the hallways.

Exam season was practically sucking the life out of me, and the added pressure of the upcoming Champions League home game against Napoli was multiplying the stress.

Thankfully, it was international break, which meant that my normal workload was cut in half. Some players not playing for in the national team had requested leave for vacation, so the training center was pretty quiet and empty today.

I only knew of injured players being here for their scheduled recovery appointments.

I finally get back in my office, sighing in exhaustion when I get to my desk. I plop down, rubbing my face to wake myself up further, before starting to work on some more content.

"Why are you grinning like a creep?"

I turn to Luis, chuckling at his choice of words, and let go of the computer mouse.

"I just got a notification that said I passed my written exam." I beam, giving him a cocky look.

"Really?"

"Yeah, ninety-four percent..” I say, turning my head to look at the editing program. The training video we had just shot halfway edited already.

"You've been snapping at us for no reason, but I guess it was worth it- good job.." He says, shooting me a smile, and leaning in to give me a side hug.

"Yeah, sorry about that.." I apologize, fixing my wrinkled shirt. I move my hand towards the mouse again, cutting off a piece of blurry footage that we couldn’t use.

"It's fine, I guess it's payback for making you do random tasks back when you were a newbie.."

"You know, I haven't forgotten how you made me carry that heavy ass bag every morning..”

"I'm sorry, alright. You should've told me earlier that Ancelotti is basically your uncle."

I grumble at his words, jabbing his ribcage with my elbow, sending him a warning look.

"Stop talking and help me out with this.." I mutter, passing him the mouse.

He winces a little, rubbing his stomach, before snatching the mouse off of me with an attitude.

"Didn't know you were allowed to use your privilege to inflict such violence."

I roll my eyes, focused on the moving images on the computer screen. Starting to unconsciously pick at a fresh scab on my hand. Only noticing the damage I’ve done when I look down to see blood trickling down the back of my hand.

"Shit, made myself bleed.." I say, making Luis glance away from the dual monitors.

"Go to the physiotherapy room. They have a shit ton of bandages and bandaids.” He suggests, his hand going up to fix the curls falling in front of his eyes.

I nod quickly, getting up from my seat and walking out of the small, soundproof meeting room. I close the glass door behind me, hurrying over to the physiotherapy room.

I pass the glass panels facing the multiple pitches outside, the sun had been shining brightly this afternoon. Even though the sun had been setting quite early due to daylight saving time.

I knock twice when I arrive, only opening the door when I hear a loud 'come in' in response.

I clear my throat, realizing how silly it is to get a bandaid for a wound like this, but still walk in.

I'm greeted by the sight of first-team physiotherapist Iván, he smiles when he notices me, waving for me to come inside.

He was one of the nicest people working with me at Real Madrid. It would be especially fun when he would bring in his little two-year-old son with him. I couldn’t count on one hand how many times I had carried the cute boy around the training center in my free time.

"Oh, y/n. What brings you here?" He questions, shoving the white privacy curtain out of the way, only to reveal a shirtless Jude lying on the treatment table, his eyes opening to peer over at me.

The personalized shoulder brace he'd been wearing for the past couple matches, was taken off for obvious reasons, and placed on the other side of the bed.

I look away a moment later, feeling my chest tighten, internally wincing at the thought of Jude having a dislocated shoulder and still playing football. Despite all of the aggressive and offensive play we had gotten used to this season, he was handling it well- but I wouldn’t ever utter it out loud.

Because- who wants to inflate that ego even more? Or was that even possible?

"Hi, Iván.. Just wondering if you got a bandaid for me?" I avert my gaze to the physio, and raise my brows. I hold my hand up to show the wound, and smile when he nods in response.

"Yeah, just a second.." He shoots Jude a quick wink, washing his hands before coming over. He begins to rummage through the cabinet, flipping through a pack of bandaids before handing me one closest to my skin color.

"Here you go.. Do you need anything else?" He asks, eyeing the blood on my hand.

"Nope, only this. Thank you.." I smile, quickly wiping down the blood from my hand and gently placing the bandaid on my wound.

I throw the bloody wipes and wrappers in the dedicated trash can, turning around again when I’m done.

I make accidental and involuntary eye contact with Jude instead of Iván, who's already across the room busy with some paperwork. Probably documenting the progress of Jude’s injury.

My eyes automatically dart down to his shoulder, and unbelievably, my eyes slip to his chest, then to his-

I stiffen when I regain consciousness of what I’m doing, and look away with haste. I fight the urge to smack myself in the face, instead biting the flesh of my cheek when I notice him smirk at me.

"What are you looking at?" He questions, voice low and his cocky tone too obvious to ignore.

My eyes widen slightly when he speaks, and I take a step forward as if to say I’m not intimidated.

"Just- looking at your shoulder.." I say, cringing at the way the words leave my mouth.

"So, you’re worried about me now?"

I give him a look of disgust, a chuckle of disbelief leaving my mouth.

"You wish, Bellingham. I heard Ancelotti is confident in putting you in the starting lineup on Wednesday. You better put your best foot forward, and if we don’t end up winning..." I trail off, threatening him slightly with my tone. I then turn around and leave the room.

I couldn’t lie, being rude to him after he'd dislocated his shoulder and still played made me feel a little guilty.

Though, he had a huge gift of being the ultimate douchebag, even when he’d been having his 'decent' moments lately.

“He’s only turned nineteen two- no three months ago, and he’s already scoring in the Champions League..” Luis gawks, grabbing the equipment bag out of my hand.

“I know, it’s so fun to see young players flourish..” I mutter, mentally recalling the interview I just did with Nico Paz. Since it was his first goal for Real Madrid, we had just done an interview in celebration.

“He is a year younger than you.. Is he really that young to you?” Luis teases, pushing me away when I pretend to kick him.

“What? Are you trying to undermine my accomplishments?” I question, trying to kick him again.

“Hey! See, this is how immature you are.. Step back, dude get off…” He says, and I scuffle with him for a moment, gasping when he tries to put me in a headlock.

“Okay, you always do this- stop everyone is looking..” I mutter, squeezing his arm.

“How fuckin’ childish are you?” I hear a familiar voice say. I snap my head up, Luis’ arm loosening as he immediately lets me go.

“As much as I want to be...” I state, my hand traveling up to fix my hair and clothes.

I hear Jude scoff, he gives me a nasty look before taking a step forward, but I notice him freeze in my peripheral vision when he hears someone calling out to me.

“y/n?!” The person shouts, and I look around for a moment before my eyes land on…

The guys from Naples?

What’s his name again?

“Chris?..” I say, my voice low and as enthusiastic as I can manage to pretend.

Fuck, I never even answered his DM’s..

Well, should I really give a guy who looks like trouble a chance?

My common sense says: NO.

I watch him bring an arm around my back, his hand resting on my shoulder blade when he hugs me tightly. Like we’ve been friends for freaking years…

“How have you been? Thought I’d see you here..” He beams, his hand going up to fix the fluffy mop of blonde hair on his head. Aussie accent undeniably mesmerizing like last time.

He is so pretty, but the kind of pretty that told me he was a full on man-wh*re..

“Hi? Good, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stop the grimace forming on my face. I lean in, taking a closer look at the badge hanging from his neck.

Surprisingly enough, it says ‘VIP’- I look up at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.

“Oh- this.. someone I know gifted me this pass..”

Yeah, very believable.

He smiles nonchalantly, the skin of his cheeks denting as his dimples show.

I nod as if I understand, glancing at Luis, so he can get me out of this conversation.

“You’re the drunk guy from that night!” Chris suddenly exclaims, pointing at Luis.

Could this get even more awkward.

I tune out the stupid conversation they have, shuffling backwards only to bump into Jude.

Thankfully, not against his injured shoulder.

“Oh, sorry..” I whisper, not even registering his response before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Man- no way you’re the Jude Bellingham..”

I close my eyes in embarrassment, turning around to face Jude instead of both Luis and Chris.

I raise my brows at Jude, giving him a look only readable as ‘send this man away’..

He immediately plasters an all too good, fake smile on his face. Stepping behind me to greet Chris, and begins talking to him about the match.

I can only hear a jumble of both Brum and Aussie accents, it making me want to burst into a fit of laughter. Though, I manage to keep it in, looking at Luis to see if he’s still present in the conversation.

He isn’t, as expected. No surprise, he’s fidgeting with his damn camera again.

I stand there like a statue for the next two minutes, looking back and forth between the two accented men.

It’s a comical sight, especially when I can’t even understand some words.

I sigh in relief when Jude pats Chris’ shoulder, careful with his injury when he goes in for a handshake.

I watch Jude leave swiftly, his facial expression falters immediately, and his hand goes up to rip the shoulder brace off his body, harsher than I’ve ever seen him do before.

"My brain is going to explode, fucks sake.."

I mumble, stretching my arms and legs. I get up from the dinner table in order to walk around the backyard for a moment. Trying to get some fresh air, even though it's past midnight already.

I loved studying at the dinning table way more than upstairs in my room. It felt less lonely- especially since my dad had been gone for a couple weeks now. His work and the case had taken an interesting turn, which meant that his stay had to be prolonged.

I didn't mind, in fact, I loved living alone. Except for when I heard random noises at night. It could've been a bird flying against the window, and I’d still be paranoid.

Since it was our day off, after winning 4-2 against Napoli yesterday- I thought I'd go ahead and continue cramming for my last exam I had in a couple days.

I yawn and stretch my limbs, looking up at the clear sky and stars. It had gotten so much colder since December was almost here.

My pajama shorts are not providing warmth, but I can’t be bothered to go up and change when I’m going back inside in a minute anyway.

I can hear my back cracking when I turn to stretch, making me chuckle. I was only twenty, but those hard ass chairs and sitting in them for long periods of time, made me feel like I was double my age sometimes.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear my phone ring loudly from the dinning table. I jog back inside quickly, throwing my slippers off my feet and snatch my phone. Confusion settling on my face when I read the caller ID.

I immediately pick up, pressing the phone against my ear. Worrying about something horrible happening in the middle of the night.

"Dad? It's late, something wrong?" I say in one breath, left hand clutching the backrest of my chair.

"y/n, nothings wrong. I just need you to listen carefully..”

"Okay." I spit out, just wanting him to get to the point, my brain making up all types of things.

"It's concerning one of my clients. Something unexpected just happened, and he's going to have to stay over at ours for a while."

I pause at his words, frowning in confusion, even though he can’t see my face.

"What? So, you're calling me- because I need to let an unfamiliar guy into our house- so he can sleep here? Is it a criminal?”

I gasp, hand gripping my phone tighter.

“A murderer?! Dad! How can you-”

"-y/n.." He cuts me off, voice stern, but I’m able to hear the grogginess of his tone. He'd probably been sleeping before he was awakened.

"It's no stranger- it's Jude, okay? He's not safe in his own home- relating the case I took on. I offered for him to stay over out of concern for his safety. So, he's going to have to stay with- you for a while."

I stay quiet, taking in all of the information he's giving me. I can already feel a migraine creeping up on me, letting go of my chair to massage my temple with one hand.

"I have to get the guest room- ready?" I say, processing everything and trying to understand what I’m supposed to do.

"Yes, I know you two are- friendly. Please be understanding and responsible. I'll call you in the morning, just get him settled and go to bed. You got that, honey?"

"Yeah, I got it. Uh- I'll get the room ready.." I say, already walking up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

"Good, again- I'll call you in the morning- good night, sweetie.."

I quickly hang up after saying goodbye, running around, and making the bedroom look presentable. I change the bedsheets and wipe the dust off the vanity with a swift motion. It takes me about ten minutes and a sweaty forehead, before the doorbell rings repeatedly.

I run down the stairs, almost tripping due to my haste.

I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to collect my thoughts and feelings before swinging the door open.

Jude's house was unsafe to stay in, so he's staying here- right..

The front door squeaks when I open it. An exhausted-looking Jude entering my sight, his black suitcase is on the floor, to his right- looking like it’s about to burst at its seams.

Cold air greets my face and naked legs almost instantly, making me curse internally for not changing clothes earlier.

I was too stubborn for my own good..

"Hi- umh, come in?" I say, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't spoken out loud in weeks.

He nods awkwardly, mumbling something incoherent as he begins rolling his suitcase inside.

I motion for him to take his shoes off, which he promptly does without hesitation. I turn away, grabbing some house slippers for him to wear out of the shoe rack.

I throw them next to his feet, watching his eyes flicker up and down as he steps back for a moment.

"You alright?" I ask, worried about the lack of words he's using.

It was unlike him, whether we’re arguing about some stupid shit or I’m filming an interview- he always had something to say.

"Yeah, I'm fine.." He mutters, looking up and finally making eye contact with me.

"The bedroom is upstairs.." I trail off, reaching over to grab his suitcase, but he snatches the heavy luggage up with one hand, immediately making his way up the stairs.

I watch the muscles in his arm flex as I walk behind him. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what I’m doing and practically start running up the stairs to catch up to him.

I walk ahead of him when we reach the top of the stairs, opening the guest bedroom door for him.

"This is your room, bathroom is there, and the laundry room is over there." I point, turning around to face him.

"Thanks.." His Brum accent is thick, and he looks at me like a lost man in crisis.

I clear my throat, unable to pick between being nice and acting like how we normally interacted.

"Are- do you want to go shower?" I mutter, raising my brows.

I only realize how wrong my sentence sounds the second it leaves my mouth. To cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat again, putting my hands behind my back.

"Yeah- I should.." He responds, and I step aside to let him in the bedroom.

"I'll be downstairs.."

I inform, running down the stairs the second he shuts the door behind him.

I rub my eyes aggressively when I walk into the living room area. Sitting on the couch, I wonder if this is some delusional fever dream.

Maybe it’s just a different genre of dreams, next to those nightmares I had about failing exams.

I mean- who can make this up?

I get up to my feet again, walk up to the fridge, and begin filling up a huge glass with water. I bring the cup up to my lips, and slowly sip on the cool liquid, hoping it will help me feel grounded again.

I exhale deeply when I'm halfway through the cup. Going for my last gulp of water again, I fill my mouth with the rest of the water. My cheeks almost exploding from the amount of water in my mouth.

Suddenly, I'm absolutely- fucking-scared shitless as I'm poked in between my shoulder blades. I turn around in a shift motion, accidentally spraying out the water in my mouth- onto a shirtless Jude's chest.

My eyes almost bug out of my head in shock. My jaw slacks open when I observe the aftermath.

He can only look at me with a blank face. I can’t detect any emotion in his face, but he’s probably equally as mortified as me.

"Shit- sorry.." I blurt, turning around, and grabbing a kitchen towel. I scramble for a second, and start to vigorously..wipe.. his..chest..

I only realize I'm rubbing on his chest like I’m giving him a damn massage- mid-wipe and freeze.

My body goes rigid and my hands are resting on his now dry, naked chest.

I look up at him, only seeing part of his face with help from the dim lights in the kitchen. My breathing slows down, and he looks down at me in return.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ribcage, and I'm sure anyone within meters of me could hear.

His skin is soft and warm underneath my fingertips-

"I- was going to ask how the shower works.." Jude whispers, his warm breath hitting my face. I can make out his brown eyes peering into mine, a series of unspoken and caged words behind them.

His words make me stop breathing for a moment. I remove my hands off of him at lightning speed, the kitchen towel falling to the floor mindlessly and I step back immediately.

"Oh- yeah, sure. Follow me.." I scramble a couple words together, my brain working overtime. I walk up the stairs again. Leading him into the bathroom, noticing he had left the lights on, his discarded shirt on the bathroom counter.

"Here- left is hot, right is cold. This is the best temperature.." I instruct, pointing when necessary and don’t dare to look up at him as he stands behind me.

"This button is for the radio and this one for the ventilation.." I say, pressing some buttons to show him how they work.

"Okay.." He breaths out, his warm breaths hitting the back of my neck. I can practically feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head.

I finally turn to look at him, dragging my gaze up to make awkward eye contact with him.

"Anything else?" I ask, voice low and I begin fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"Not really..” He replies, sentence dragged out by his accent.

"Umh- okay.. laundry hamper is there. I'll be in my room.." I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me, and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything else.

I quickly clean up the mess I - no, he caused in the kitchen. I wipe everything down properly and grab my laptop and stationary off the dining table.

I carefully lock the front door and windows on the first floor, setting up the alarm and going back upstairs.

I can hear some noise coming from the bathroom. I begin averting my gaze, just in case Jude walks out of the bathroom half-naked again.

I finally get into my bedroom, jumping into my bed. I try to distract myself with my phone until he's done with showering. So I can finally wash my face and brush my teeth after a long day of studying.

Only, this time- my phone doesn’t seem to be all too interesting. Not even those brainrotting and attention grabbing TikTok’s.

Nothing, and I mean nothing- could distract me from anything that had happened within the past thirty minutes..

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nikki McCann Ramírez at Rolling Stone:

Donald Trump lasted about two minutes into Vice President Kamala Harris’ nomination acceptance speech before launching into a full-blown public unraveling.  Moments after Harris took the stage Thursday at the Democratic National Convention, it became clear that the former president — and her 2024 opponent — was glued to the television in a hate-watch for the ages. 

“Here she comes into the Arena,” was the first of around furious 50 posts in a Truth Social meltdown that began when Harris entered the United Center in Chicago, Illinois, and continued long after she left the stage.  Notable reactions to Harris’ statements included:  “IS SHE TALKING ABOUT ME?”  “A lot of talk about childhood, we’ve got to get to the Border, Inflation, and Crime!” “Walz was an ASSISTANT Coach, not a COACH.”  “Too many ‘Thank yous,’ too rapidly said, what’s going on with her?”  “She caused the Attack of October 7th.” The former president was especially apoplectic about Harris’ description of he and his allies’ expansive plans to restrict reproductive rights. Harris said Trump “would limit access to birth control, ban medication abortion, and enact a nationwide abortion ban, with or without Congress.” She added that Trump “plans to create a national anti-abortion coordinator and force states to report on women’s miscarriages and abortions.” “Simply put, they are out of their minds,” Harris concluded. “One must ask: why exactly, is it that they don’t trust women?” Harris was describing components of Project 2025, the conservative personnel and policy program created to help the next GOP president (read: Trump) quickly impose a far-right agenda. 

Trump has actively tried to run away from the project in recent months, because its plans poll terribly. He was not pleased with being tied once again to its proposals. “I do not limit access to birth control … THAT IS A LIE, these are all false stories that she’s making up, that I’ve never even heard of. It’s just words coming out of her mouth,” Trump posted. “I TRUST WOMEN, ALSO, AND I WILL KEEP WOMEN SAFE! SHE WON’T, BECAUSE THE INVASION OF OUR COUNTRY AT HER OPEN BORDER IS DESTROYING THE LIVES OF WOMEN, AND THE FAMILIES AND JOBS OF AFRICAN AMERICANS AND HISPANICS.” Trump only stopped posting in order to call into Fox News, where he raged at anchors Bret Baier and Martha MacCallum. When MacCallum pointed out that Harris was gaining in several polls and key demographics, Trump countered that “she’s not having success. I’m having success.” 

[...] The hosts eventually cut him off, ostensibly because it was time for a special edition of Fox’s cringiest show: Gutfeld! Trump, however, was nowhere near done, and within minutes was calling into Newsmax’s live DNC coverage. There, the former president complained that Harris hadn’t addressed “woman trafficking” in her speech, and suggested he and the hosts take a trip to Caracas, Venezuela.  He was still accidentally jamming the buttons on his phone during the call. “He is uhh, he’s a very special man,” host Greg Kelly said when the former president finally hung up. 

During Kamala Harris’s DNC speech last night, Donald Trump had an unhinged hissy fit on multiple outlets: TRUTH Social, Faux “News”, and Newsmax.

Let that be a reminder that this unhinged jerk cannot be allowed another term in office.

See Also:

Daily Kos: After days of near silence on the DNC, Trump ‘reviews’ Harris’ speech

The Guardian: Harris’s convention speech sparks live rant from outraged Trump

[httpscomorg]

I’ve recently become obsessed with Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett, and I love your FSD and Ensnared series.

I wanted to make a request on a poolverine one where Deadpool and Wolverine were both hired by the Avengers to find the reader and bring her to the tower because even though she’s just a normal civilian, she actually has some secret shit up her sleeves like a Mafia boss or something, but they kinda grow on her?

Thank you 💛❤️

Risk of Contract - Red and Yellow

Summary: You’re back to partying after a few years of giving up, but of course, your idols have to get in the way, and you quickly learn just how bad you’ve fucked up with the Avengers.

(Find what I'm currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Pairings: Logan x Reader x Wade

Warnings: Individual Warnings PerChapter - Kidnapping, drugging, language, cruel jokes, underage drinking, mentions of murder, blood, fight, sexual jokes, Honda odyssey, early stage obsession? Logan and Wade are both warnings.

Word count: 4815 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know through an ask, DM, or comment. Thank you. (This fic is going to be a non-con with triggering kinks such as blood kinks and pain kinks)

P.P.S. Red and Yellow=Wade and Logan, Yellow=Logan, Red=Wade

There it was again. Another TikTok edit of Logan Howlett on your FYP. You’ve considered deleting all of your socials a few times. Your little crush had developed into an obsession. Which, for some reason, was becoming unhealthy. For some unknown reason, it made you genuinely sad that you knew you would never be able to meet Wolverine or Deadpool. Hell, you lived right in New York, and you’ve never even seen Spiderman for fucks sake. Everyone else has, but for some reason, you haven’t.

It actually made you jealous of your friends.

Yea, you were a normal college student who was working for your degree, but you lived in the heart of the city and you’ve never seen any of the heroes. Worst of all, you’ve never seen Wolverine or Deadpool, your idols. They weren’t the best to look up to, but you loved them.

Every edit you got on instagram or TikTok almost had you crying yourself to sleep.

So yea, it was unhealthy.

But you couldn’t help it. And with Halloween being today, it was even worse. Maybe a Wolverine costume wasn’t per-say the best idea.

You felt like a weirdo being obsessed with the two men, but you didn’t care.

You’re a loner in the school. The only reason people knew you was because you’ve shown up to parties on multiple occasions uninvited, but one specific time you got overly drunk, and your ex just wouldn’t leave you alone. So you got into a bit of a fight, and broke some kids' furniture.

That was in the past though, and he finally forgave you after two years, so there you were again. Dressed in a slutty Wolverine costume, walking up the front steps of the rich kids mansion, his parents went out on their annual work trip for Halloween.

Of course, you weren’t the only one dressed as Wolverine. The fight for humanity was just won to protect your earth, so obviously everyone was dressed as them. The most realistic being some of the football players.

“Hey! Y/N!” You turn as your friend runs towards you, a bald cap on her head. She was dressed as Charles Xavier of course. She was still disappointed she wouldn’t be able to bring a wheelchair to the party. Her definition of a cruel joke. “Love it, you look hot.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, bringing your hands up to show the claws you programmed to come out upon clicking a button with your thumb, her mouth making an ‘O’ shape as they retract.

“That’s cool as fuck, I wish I was smart, your costume is way cooler than mine.”

“Pfft, what? You are absolutely rocking that bald cap.”

“Oh har har, very funny.” She walks up to the front doors of the mansion with you. “I’m glad Luke is letting you back in, just don’t fight anyone this time please.”

“I’m not promising anything.” She rolls her eyes and shows one of Luke’s bodyguards the texts on her phone which proved she was invited, then you show yours.

“You again? There better not be another fight.”

“Promise.” You tell him, your friend looking back and rolling her eyes.

“What happened to no promises?” She whispers, a smirk on her face as she walks in with you.

“They don’t count.” You tell her, immediately making your way to the table with red cups, and you quickly pour yourself a drink.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink this time?”

“Oh hush, don’t deny me my happiness.”

“Still think you should go to rehab.” You give her a look, which she immediately takes as a sign to shut up.

“Hey, surprised you showed up.” An arm lays over your shoulder, you look over to see your best friend, and he’s dressed as Spiderman for the fifth year in a row.

“Spiderman again, Peter?”

“He’s my favourite, I think he’s cool.”

“He’s probably not.” You shrug, messing with him.

“Well you’ve never met him.”

“Yea, well I’m not as lucky as you.” You roll your eyes, taking the first sip of your drink.

“Hey Ned, how’s it going?” Peter's arm leaves your shoulder, and he goes to greet Ned before they do their long ass secret handshake. One they do so often you’ve memorised it.

“Peter Parker?” Flash… “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I come here every year…”

Their conversation fades out as you stop listening to it. Flash being the asshole you fought with in the first place.

You start to think again that maybe you shouldn’t be there. You could always go to another party or just get drunk in your own dorm, you weren’t sure why you even bothered coming.

Right.

Michelle.

“Hey, yay. You came.” MJ nudges you to get your attention. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long.” You answer her, drinking some more and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but you ignore it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yea, why?”

“You seem different.” She tells you, tilting her head up a little and her eyes stare down at you. “I don’t know what it is.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you take drugs?”

“What- No-”

“I’m joking, calm down, you don’t have to take everything so seriously.” She teases.

“I’m not taking anything seriously.” You chuckle. “I’m totally chill right now.”

“Oh my God, stop yelling at me, it was a joke.”

“You jerk.” You playfully punch her shoulder. Her little tactic to put a smile on your face works, as usual. You take another sip of your drink, the alcohol easily slipping down your throat.

Looking around the mansion, which was now filled with people, your suspicions were true. A majority of the kids were in their Deadpool and Wolverine costumes.

“What are you supposed to be right now?” You ask MJ, your eyes trailing up and down her costume. It was like a child mashed together a bunch of colours.

“Oh my little sister made it for me. I’m Captain Spider.”

“Captain Spider?”

“Yea, Captain America and Spiderman.”

You try not to laugh, you really do. And you don’t.

It comes out as more of a snort. Then it turns into a laugh.

“Not funny, she worked so hard on it.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You continue laughing, covering your mouth to try hiding it.

“Are you already drunk?”

“What? No…” You lie. “What makes you think that?”

“You giggle a lot when you’re drunk, but not normal giggling, it's obnoxious.”

“Oh please, go find your boyfriend. He’s Spiderman.”

“What about you?”

“I think I’m gonna leave.” You see the visible disappointment on her face as you tell her you’re going to leave soon. You didn’t like the party aspect of parties. Always too many people.

Then there was Flash…

“Hey, glad you finally forgave me.” Shit.

“Who says I forgave you?”

“Well you showed up so I assumed-”

“I don’t forgive you.”

There’s silence between the two of you before MJ speaks up.

“Let’s um… Let’s calm down, how about Flash you go that way, and Y/N-”

“Yea Y/N, calm down.” Flash interrupts her.

“Don’t interrupt my friend…”

“Or what?” He puts his drink down on a nearby table, a little harshly as some alcohol jumps out and drips onto the table under it.

“I beat your ass last time I’ll do it again.” You tell him, you head tuning out MJs voice.

“You did not win that fight.”

“You would’ve been in the hospital if Peter hadn’t pulled me off of you.”

“You weren’t even close to that level.”

“I broke your nose, asshole, why do you think your face isn’t symmetrical anymore?”

“One more word.” He warns, but you only smirk. You throw your head back, finishing your drink in one big gulp before setting down your empty red cup next to his full one.

“Fuck you.”

Your hand swings first, before he can even process what you had said. He looks back up, stunned from the punch as a trickle of blood leaks from his nose.

“I think I fixed it.”

“Asshole!” He jumps at you, knocking you into some other people dressed as animals.

“Hey!” You hear Luke’s voice, his dumbass shouldn’t have invited you again. Or he shouldn’t have invited you both at least, that would’ve been logical.

He tries to get to you as you easily overpower Flash, on top of him as he covers his face, preventing you from throwing punches at his nose, but his arms were sure to have bruises. You knew Luke wouldn’t be able to reach the two of you, he was skinny, and the crowd of people barely moved an inch as he tried to push them out of the way.

“You fucking bitch get off!” Flash yells from underneath you, his hand finding an empty Cola can on the ground which he quickly smashes against the side of your head before getting up quickly, immediately grabbing something from the table as you pop onto your feet, you knew better than to turn your back on the person you’re fighting. “You crazy fucker…” He mumbles, a full bottle of alcohol in his hand being held by the neck, which he was ready to smash on you. But you didn’t care as you wiped a little sliver of blood off your cheek and walked towards him. You had much more experience in fighting than he ever will. “Come on! Come at me!”

“Do you ever shut up?” You groan, and he swings the bottle at you, which easily smashes over your head, and as you drop to the ground, your arms wrap around his legs, making some people gasp as you drop him back onto the ground, your knee sliding over broken glass as blood seeps through your Wolverine costume, your fist colliding with his jaw, not nearly all of your strength put into the punch, as you didn’t exactly plan on breaking his jaw.

Though it might do him some good.

And you were about to let him pull the white flag, your fist halfway in the air, preparing to come back down, but then he spoke again, and it pissed you off.

“You’re such a freak.” He pauses, and then the next part blows your steam.

“It’s no fucking wonder your dad abandoned you.”

You jaw clenches, and all mercy leaves you body as you’re about to put all of your strength into the punch, but a force stops you, and you’re forced to your feet.

“What the fuck?”

“What’s going on?”

“Y/N?”

“Her eyes…”

You hear everyone mumbling, but you don’t bother paying attention as the arms around your waist bring you away from Flash. You can’t seem to turn your head, your eyes are locked on him, some camera flashes hitting your pupils, but you ignore it. You wanted to fight-

No.

You wanted to fucking kill Flash.

But you’re dragged away, and only when a hand slaps you across the face do you snap out of it, and you’re outside now, two of the football players standing in front of you. One in a Deadpool costume, the other in their Wolverine costume.

In anger, you shove at the one dressed as Wolverine, and he barely budges as he stares down at you, his mask covering his face.

“What the fuck man! I had him!” You shout as you push him. “Fuck!” You scream, the outside of the mansion's front yard completely empty as everyone else continues partying inside.

“Not very pretty words for a very pretty mouth.” Excuse you?

“Excuse me?” You look at the one dressed as Deadpool, your voice stunned, sounding offended as he stares down at you.

“How about you calm down?”

If another person tells me to calm the fuck down…” You shout the last few words, it was worse than being told to smile more.

And for the first time, you look up at the dude's face who was wearing the Wolverine costume. He was a full grown fucking man. He almost looked like… No, it wasn't possible.

There was no way the real Deadpool and Wolverine would just show up to some random Halloween party, they had more important things to deal with.

Or so you thought.

But then your stomach drops as the man takes off his mask.

It was really him.

You turn your head to look at the guy in the Deadpool costume- err- suit. He had already removed his mask.

Sure enough, it was the real deal.

“What the fuck-?” You mumble.

Of all the ways you see these guys face to face, it was like this.

Blood leaking down your face from your scalp because a bottle was smashed on your skull, your lips also covered in it from the amount of blood, well- basically the entire right side of your face was covered in the blood, some still occasionally dripping down from the cut on your scalp, and you knees were also blooded, along with a huge gash on your thigh as it seeped through your yellow costume, staining the fabric.

“You got a nice punch for a college girl.” Wolverine speaks up finally, his arms crossed as he stares down at you, almost like he hates you.

“Well that's because she’s a bit more than that, ain’t that right?” Deadpool asks you rhetorically, and you debate how to answer it before your phone starts ringing in your pocket.

You pull it out, the screen now cracked from the fight, the screen telling you that ‘Mark’ was calling, so you pick it up and take a step back from your idols.

“Hey man, what’s uh- what’s up?”

“Did you get my text?”

“Probably, I just haven't seen it yet, why?”

“Well how about you look at it, it’s really fucking important.” He hangs up. Such an ass.

You open the messaging app, one notification from him.

And your heart stops.

Shit. You tell yourself.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

You slowly look back up at the two men. They knew exactly what the call was about.

Of course, you finally meet these two, in the wrong setting, at the wrong time, wearing the wrong thing, and for the wrong reason. Couldn’t possibly be worse.

“Anyways, uh… I should- I should really go-” You tell them, your voice shaking embarrassingly as you take a few steps back, they take the same amount of steps forward.

So you break out in a run, it doesn’t last long though.

You’re quickly stopped, your hair pulled as one of them drag you back.

“Woah there biscuits, we just wanna talk.” Wade turns you around, holding you by your shoulders as Logan tenses up, just waiting for you to run. “We’re not gonna kill you, just a few questions and we will be out of your hair.”

“Really?”

“Yes, then replaced by Nick Fury's agents.” You scoff as he keeps you still. You don’t bother fighting back, you knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to overpower him.

“Wonderful that makes this so much better. Look.” You gently take his hands off your shoulders. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m definitely not who you think I am.”

“Oh you are. We know exactly who you are.” Logan speaks.

“Who am I then? I am a twenty year old college girl with a drinking problem who goes to my friend's drama club every Friday. Doesn’t sound very Wolverine and Deadpool worthy.” You blab out, hoping they’d just leave you alone.

“No, see. You’re the girl who was abandoned, or rather ran away,” Ouch. “At a very young age because of daddy issues, who decided that she would cope with the loss by becoming a very, very hated bounty hunter, mercenary, assassin, whatever you may go by.” Wade spits out, nodding a little in the end. “But we just have a few questions.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again, your mouth is too pretty to be saying that nasty word-”

“Wade enough.” Logan shuts him up, and looks down at you, bending down a little to reach your height. “You going to tell us everything you know about your boss, or we are going to have our fun fucking your face up before we give you to Fury.”

“Again, you have the wrong person.”

“Give it.” He stands straight, holding his hand out to Wade as the guy in red reaches into his pocket, placing a syringe into his palm. “You don’t wanna talk? Fine. We won’t let you go.” He tells you, taking the cap off the needle and grabbing you as you try to move away before stabbing the pin into the side of your neck, and he pushes the contents into your veins.

When you wake up, it feels like you’ve been sleeping in a dusty room for years, your body immediately gasping and coughing for years as the smell of alcohol and murky water clouding your lungs like we're in a swamp.

Your head spins, and you groan in pain, whatever they injected you with fucking hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised if it expired as you sit there, feeling paralyzed. Each of your limbs in pain and a tear falls from your eye, but you sit up, the worst of the pain targeted towards your waist, like you’ve done a thousand curl ups without a break.

The room is as you expect it to look, the murky scent of a swamp on making you lightheaded. There’s a green glow on the walls as the sun shines through a window curtain, and you’re sitting in a bed that was more than likely the origin of the smell, a dirty hand rag sitting on the edge.

“Fucking disgusting…” You mumble as you throw your feet over the edge of the bed, your bare skin touching the cold, worn wooden floor. You make your way to the bedroom door, expecting it to be locked but it opens easily, the hinges screaming as you slowly open it, checking for anyone in sight, but there was no one. Until a head peeks up from behind a counter.

“Are you awake girl?” The voice asks, an older woman's face looking towards the area you were standing in, but not quite. “Hello? I swear I heard the door open…” She mumbles, and stumbles towards you. She’s blind. You realise, stepping to the side slightly to avoid her running into you.

“H-Hi?”

“Oh! Hi. So you are awake.”

“Yes, sorry. Where am I?” You ask as she begins to walk back over to behind the counters, tripping on the way over a box but catching herself.

“Dammit Wade, stop moving things…” She growls, her teeth clenched. “You are in my humble abode. Wade said to keep you here until he got back.”

“Well, I have to go-” You take a single step towards the front door, but stop.

“My name is Althea hun, what’s yours?” She asks, and you tell her your name. “That’s a very pretty name. Wade and his friend Logan have said a lot about you.”

“Have they…?” You roll your eyes a little. What could those two possibly say about you, someone they’ve never met before.

“Yea, they tell me you’re stubborn, but you’re smart.”

“That's… not a lot, but okay.”

“Oh there’s more, mainly from Wade but I don’t think you want to hear the sexual fantasies that I was cursed to listen to from the day I met him.” Your eyes squint in confusion, and your mouth moves as if you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. “Are you hungry? I know Wade has some leftover mac and cheese, but it’s shaped like unicorns. Although I can’t see very well obviously and I personally think they’re shaped like a penis. Or at least that’s what the shape feels like when I eat it.” She opens the fridge taking out a tupperware bowl and she slides it onto the counter. With as much as you wanted to leave, you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yea no they uh…” You look down at the leftover noodles. “Yea those aren’t unicorns.”

“I fucking knew it.”

“OH! That was amazing! A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!” You turn around quickly, and you’re met with Wade removing his mask as Logan walks in behind him like a lost puppy. Logan's eyes quickly land on you while Wade talks about whatever was so amazing. “Gasp! She’s awake.”

“You don’t actually say gasp, Wade.”

“Well it’s more fun to say gasp than to gasp you should try it some time. Oh wait, you’re too busy grumbling to be able to gasp.” Ironically, Logan grumbles something under his breath. “Well hey there goody-two-shoes. Has blind Al kept you entertained?” Blind Al? He hooks his arm over Althea's shoulders and takes the tupperware of noodles from her. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of the unicorn noods?” He laughs a little, opening the container before picking up some of the noodles with his fingers and shoving them into his mouth as Althea mumbles something you don’t hear, then there’s a presence behind you.

“How long have you been awake?” Logan asks you, his hand settling on your shoulder as you jump to the sound of his voice.

“She hasn’t been up long. Maybe five minutes.” Althea answers for you. “Now are you sure you aren’t hungry? We’ve got crackers, cup noodles-”

“I ate the cup noodles.” Wade interrupts.

“Well we have crackers still and-”

“I ate the crackers with the noodles.”

I’m sure we have half a cucumber left in the fridge.”

“What? Last time I used that thing it wasn’t cut.”

“Used?”

There’s a long silence before Logan speaks up again. “Look, kid.” He makes you face him. “We just have some questions. S.H.I.E.L.D wanted us to bring you to them, but they have this torture method I’m not very fond of that they use when people don’t co-operate.” He explains, his eyes staring into yours, searching for an understanding. “And I know you aren’t the co-operating type, to Wade and I thought it would be best to bring you here. But if you don’t cooperate with us…” He gives you a warning look, and you nod a little. “Good.”

“I just don’t get why they need to question me.”

“You’re smart. And that makes you a threat.” He tells you, and sighs. “So are you hungry?”

“I’m okay.”

“You haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Two-” You stutter, your eyes widening and your eyebrows quirking up. “Two days?”

“Yea, and you don’t even wanna know what Wade did in the bed next to-”

“Okay Ms. Menopause, don’t you have an eye appointment at 2?” Wade shuts her up.

“Why would I have an eye appointment? I’m blind.”

“Let's talk outside.” Logan grabs your arm, and leads you outside of the little apartment.

“I just don’t get it, I didn’t do anything wrong. At least not recently.”

“You have a suit.” Fuck. You freeze as he brings you into the hallway and looks down at you. His height is more intimidating than it should be.

“I- Have… A suit?”

“Yes. Which Tony Stark believes was created by Stark tech. He had a shipment that was stolen last week, and it’s leading back to you.” You stand there speechless. Feeling ridiculous as your shift on your feet, still wearing your Wolverine costume. You didn’t steal shit.

“I did not steal anything.” You answer him honestly. Who in their right minds would steal Stark tech? That’s a death wish.

“Well, they say otherwise, so until you can prove your innocence and that you are not a threat, especially considering you murder people for a living-”

“Woah okay.” You put your hands up defensively. “I have not murdered someone in a little over two months, it gets stressful.”

“Big pay.”

“Really big pay, but not enough for me to do it like it’s a full time job.”

“Then how do you make money on the side? Part time theft?”

“Are you kidding?” You ask, genuinely. “No, I’m a lab assistant at the college I go to.”

“Is that where you get your tech?”

“No, I buy stuff off Facebook and then break it down and repurpose it.”

“With the money you make from murdering people?”

“No, with the money I make from grading chemistry tests.”

“That’s barely $300 a month, I know how much you make.”

“Stalker alert.”

“Look.” He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “What was the name of the last man you killed? On March the twenty-third?”

“Does it matter?”

“Oh it matters.” He nods. “It matters a fucking lot. That was a very important person.”

“He was a drug dealer and trafficked children.”

“Yes, and he had very vital information, which the physical evidence was destroyed in the fire you decided to start.”

“I didn’t decide to, it just kind of happened.”

“You turned on a lighter and threw it behind you.”

“So you can get video evidence on that but not video evidence on what he did to children?”

“Did you get anything out of her yet or do we need to waterboard her?” Wade steps out, a dog in his hand. What the fuck?

“We are not waterboarding her.”

“But it always works.”

“I can breathe underwater.” You break into the conversation, and both of their heads turn.

“You’re a mutant?” He asks, more of a declaration though.

“Will that be used against me?”

“Say it again I wanna get it on recording.” Wade giggles a little and hands Logan the hairless pug, its collar reading “Mary Poppins,” then he takes out his phone, the case was adorned with pink sparkles and a unicorn sticker that was peeling off and covered in blood.

“Your friend thinks everything is a joke?” You ask him, and he just nods.

“Yea, you have to be a dick to him first and insult his past if you want him to be even a little serious.” He scratches the dog's head.

“Speaking from experience I’m assuming.” He nods.

“Uh oh, the one eyed ninja is calling me, do I pick up?”

“Yes you pick up, or he’ll come here.”

“Hello Mr. Fury.” Wade speaks into the phone. “Oh no, we still haven’t found her.” He pauses, presumably letting Fury speak. “No, no. We’ve got everything under control.” You reach out and pet the dog that’s still in Logan's arms, and her tongue reaches out to lick you. “No you do not have to put another bullet through my head, that hurt last time- what? No. Of course I’m not lying to you.” Then he suddenly reaches over, and knocks hard on the wall next to him. “Oh? Do you hear that? That’s the stripper I ordered, I have to go before it gets cold. Okay love you bye-” You hear the hang up dial tone before Wade even finishes his sentence. “He’s on his way.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Logan growls, handing Wade back the dog.

“Oh I wish. He doesn’t know you’re here though because of the whole…” He moves his hand in a circular motion. “You know, our universe Logan being dead and all… So I guess you can take Y/N and go out for a few hours, come back when I text you it’s safe.”

“And how will he know it’s you texting, not Fury?” You ask.

“We have a safe word.”

“Safe word…?” You look between them. “Like for sex.”

“Yes.” “No.” Two different answers.

“You’re both chaotic.”

“Lovers franchise.” Wade whispers.

“His ‘safeword,’ is bazinga. Whatever the fuck that means.” He makes air quotes.

“Okay well, I’d rather be with you two than see whatever Fury has in stock for me. Where was he? Is he on his way or-?”

“Oh he’s waiting by the front door.”

“What?” You and Logan say in unison.

“Yea, so you’ll have to take the fire exit.

This fucking dude.

Logan growls and grabs your wrist before leading you down the hall and to the window at the end of it before sliding it open.

“Come on.” He steps out, and grabs your hand to help you, not letting go until you were both steadily standing on the metal stairs of the fire exit, then he closed the window and he led you the way down.

“So where are we gonna go?” You ask as you both reach the ground, him helping you down as if you’re fragile. Which you weren’t.

“I know a place.”

“Just don’t murder me…” You mumble, sort of a joke as he leads you to the parking lot, a set of keys in his hands as he clicks a button on them, a Honda Odysseys lights blinking as it unlocks.

“As long as you behave and tell me everything.” He opens the passenger door for you.

“I can guarantee you will not be harmed.”

[captainventi]

Stars On Ice

The new season of Stars on Ice, a hit reality show where celebrities learn to skate alongside professional figure skaters, kicks off! Fateful encounters, first steps on the ice, grueling training sessions, and dazzling performances await the star-studded participants. And, of course, their main goal is to make an unforgettable first impression.

Episode 1. Espresso (Sabrina Carpenter)

Pairing: celebrity!Zayne x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: A no-nonsense courtroom show host agrees to shake up his routine by joining a celebrity skating competition — but his partner, a spirited figure skater with zero chill, might just bring more chaos into his life than he bargained for.

CW: figure skating!au, light innuendos, mediocre jokes, emotional detachment

Notes: this is the first episode of the planned oneshot series that I hope I eventually finish. Post with all episodes (as soon as I write them) here. Zayne header from Pinterest, dividers by @/saradika_graphics

Honestly, I’ve always considered myself the queen of chaotic meme energy — and I was just as proud of that title as I was of my international medals. But it seems like my partner on this season of Stars on Ice has outdone me without even trying. After all, it’s his quote that’s now splashed across every headline:

“Why did I agree to be on the show? I just thought it might finally motivate me to start working out regularly.”

And the wildest part is, when he said that instant-classic line, his face gave zero indication of whether he was joking or dead serious.

Zayne is one of those people who doesn’t even try to go viral — there’s nothing about him that screams “TikTok sensation” If anything, he seems like the exact opposite: calm, composed, totally immune to internet chaos. And yet, somehow, the chaos found him anyway.

Someone posted a clip of his courtroom monologue with the caption “Hot Bench really living up to the name this season,” and from there it all spiraled. Turns out there’s a whole demographic with a thing for serious, handsome men in glasses and judge’s robes — maybe even Catholic priest vibes? — and that demographic is massive. Not that I’m judging, of course. I’m hardly innocent myself — let’s just say I won’t be disclosing how many edits of Judge Zayne I’ve liked with my own sinful little finger.

Naturally, once fate (in the form of the showrunners) paired me up with him, I had to make him skate to something ridiculous.

The idea hit me like a divine revelation the moment I got a close-up look at his face for the first time. He came in determined, focused — and so did I, really. At least, by the end of our first training session, I gathered my courage, patted him on the shoulder, and declared with unshakable confidence:

“We’re skating to Espresso.”

Something in his eyes flickered — possibly a silent plea for mercy. And that’s when Judge Zayne realized he’d been paired with a ruthless woman.

Though, to be fair, I’m not that ruthless. If my cruelty had truly reached its peak (and if I had any means of pressure more effective than big pleading eyes and a well-timed “preetty pleaaaase”), maybe he’d be the one dancing on the ice in a retro brown leotard right now, not me. But then again, the way he looks all pulled-together and sharp in his costume really highlights my unhinged energy — and that’s exactly the effect we need. Baby boy just wanted to chill, and now he’s dragged into some hot dancing — after I (according to the program’s storyline) stole his credit card.

Still, I’m not quite sure what to do with the traitorous flutter in my chest during that lift, when he’s trying, with almost legalistic precision, to carry out the line “move it up, down, left, right, oh, switch it up like Nintendo.” That one wasn’t even my idea. I hadn’t planned to jump into lifts with that complex positions this early on — and yet, here we are. And I don’t think I mind being Nintendo in this particular context.

He hasn’t quite mastered the basics yet — not enough to feel free enough to come up with anything playful in return when I casually throw a leg over him or yank him by the tie. So his only weapon against my antics is this ice-cold stoicism, which is slowly starting to crack as he gets pulled into the chaos — at least, according to the choreography.

And still… how is he so detached on the ice? Here, under the stage lights, he’s exactly the same as he is during practice. It’s like the performance factor has no effect on him at all. Sure, he messes up, but just the same as before — no better, no worse; like he’s not nervous, doesn’t feel that special adrenaline rush, those heightened emotions...

Some part of me really wants to provoke him. I want him to show me something.

Naturally, I defend him like a tigress when the judges point out his stiffness after our skate and give us less-than-stellar marks for performance. I grip his hand tightly, solemnly assuring everyone that it’s all just part of the character, totally intentional, and that we’ve got plenty of surprises lined up for the next episodes. He, in turn, gives me a tiny smile, appreciating my support.

“That was actually pretty amazing,” he tells the hosts later in an interview. “Even though I’m not particularly a fan of the song.”

I turn to him with mock offense.

“You mean you still didn’t feel it?”

“I did,” he says. “Not the song, but… the whole process, overall.”

And in that bland, polite answer something warm flickers for a moment.

Or maybe I imagined it.

[paluding]

Updating... The Tattooer (ver. 3.4)!

Finally! Took me a while, huh. This is the updated version of the Tattooer project. It skips some steps, making the workflow much, much faster! Huge thanks to @applewatersugar for his suggestion on how to bake textures while preserving the transparency. This is kind of a repost of the original Tattooer post, but it actually has some new stuff and a few changes here and there, so please take a look if you want to learn how to use this new version.

This is a series of Blender template files already set up to quickly bake textures from The Sims 4 to The Sims 2. The different Blender files will allow you to: -Bake body textures from TS4 to TS2 (Female) -Bake body textures from TS4 to TS2 (Male) -Bake body textures from TS4 (Female) to TS2 (Male) -Bake body textures from TS2 (Female) to TS2 (Male) [Bonus!] -New! Bake face textures from TS4 to TS2 (Unisex) [Bonus!] -Bake head textures from TS4 to TS2 (Face + Scalp) (Unisex) [Still experimental] Check the file names to see which one is which, and the resolution of the baked texture it will give. Everything you see in the render above was 100% converted using those Blender files.

Download here! SFS / GD

Update: Version 3.4.1 (27/08/2023) Fixed some issues on the shoulders for the AF-body-4t2-1024 and AF-body-4t2-2048 templates. Now the top straps on most converted underwear/swimwear should look right.

Update: Same version (13/12/2023) As requested, added a new spanish version of the included pdf guide!

These templates were made mainly to bake and convert tattoos, but there’s more you can do with them if you get creative. I have to say, these are NOT perfect. Results may vary depending on what you are trying to convert, so! With that in mind, this is all the stuff you will be able to convert almost seamlessly from TS4 to TS2: -Tattoos. -Other body details such as body hair, scars, freckles, supernatural/occult details… -Body painted underwear and swimwear, as well as some other clothing that’s mostly painted on the body. -Socks, stockings and maybe leggings. -Even skintones! In some areas they will look weird, so I recommend editing and blending them with other existing TS2 skins. -Makeup, eyebrows and beards. In the old version this was just a proof of concept, but now I’ve added a new Face file template which gives some pretty decent results! -Hair scalps. Very useful when converting some hairs! Although keep in mind part of that texture might also need to be baked on the face mesh, you know, that hairline makeup stuff.

Got your attention? Nice! Editing some of the textures from TS4 to match the UV mapping in TS2 using a 2D editing program can be incredibly hard. That’s where texture baking in Blender comes to the rescue!

You will need to download Blender, at least version 3.4, but you could always use a newer version. It is only incompatible with versions older than 3.4. -You can download Blender for free here. -You will also need Sims 4 Studio to extract the original Sims 4 CC textures you want. In the first version of these Blender files, there was a necessary step using Photoshop, but that’s no longer needed. However, there’s still a tiny extra step which requires resizing the newly baked texture on some of the high resolution templates, so you might need a 2D editing program like Photoshop. More on that later.

So, before we begin, let’s clear out some questions you might have. What the heck is this texture baking thing and what does it do? Well, let’s imagine you have a video projector and point an image into a blank wall. Then you pick up some brushes and start painting and copying that projected image in that wall. Texture baking is kinda like that when it comes to 3D models. You align two models and match them as closely as you can in shape and form, and once you adjust some parameters and values, Blender does the rest for you: it will give you a new texture for a new model with a different UV map. These files I’m sharing have everything already set up, so it’s a matter of plopping in that Sims 4 texture and you will get that new texture for TS2 in just a few clicks.

This tutorial assumes you know literally nothing about how to use Blender, so if you feel uncomfortable with it, worry no more! This will guide you with pictures showing where you need to click and explaining what is happening. For Sims 4 Studio and Photoshop the process might be a bit less detailed, but still this should be pretty beginner friendly. For this tutorial, I will use some tattoos as an example (properly credited at the end of the post). Alright, enough with the rambling. Let’s get started!

·EXTRACTING TEXTURES IN SIMS 4 STUDIO: First things first, you will need to extract as pngs all the textures you want to convert from TS4 using Sims 4 Studio. It should be pretty straightforward. Just open the packages and export the Diffuse textures. Keep them organized in a folder for easy access.

·BAKING THE TEXTURES IN BLENDER: PRELIMINARY STEP 1: CONFIGURING BLENDER’S GRAPHICS SETTINGS: Open your preferred Blender file depending on what you’re going to bake and the desired resolution (in this example I’m going to use the AF-body-4t2-1024 file). Before we start messing around in Blender, there’s one thing you should set up. It is a onetime step, and once it’s done, you won’t need to do it again. So, does your computer have a dedicated graphics card? If you don’t know or you’re not sure, just skip to the next step. Configuring Blender so it uses your graphics card instead of your CPU will make the baking render much faster, so it is recommended you set it up correctly. If your computer has a dedicated graphics card, click File (1) > Preferences (2) > and on the window that pops up click System (3) > and select CUDA and make sure your graphics card is there and tick it (4). I have an Nvidia Graphics card but your case may vary. Once you’re done, click on the tiny button on the bottom left corner and Save Preferences (5).

PRELIMINARY STEP 2: CHOOSING THE RENDERING DEVICE: Click on the tiny camera button on the right, called Render Properties (1), and on Device (2) select GPU Compute if it’s not already selected. If you’re not sure if you have a graphics card or not, just select CPU. Then select the Material Properties tab (3) and Save your changes, either by pressing Ctrl + S, or clicking File (4) > Save (5). You might need to do this second step with the other Blender files, but once you have it done and saved, you won’t need to do this again. Okay, time to get into the good stuff!

·STEP 1: LOADING YOUR TS4 BASE TEXTURE: In the Material Properties tab, click the folder icon that says Open (1) and on the window that pops up, navigate through your folders and select your first texture. To navigate easily, the 3 buttons on the top right (2) are for the display mode. They will show your files in list mode, vertical and horizontal, and the one on the right will display the file thumbnails, pretty useful if you want to easily preview your textures here. The icons on the left side (3) will let you go one folder back and forward, go to the parent directory, and refresh the folder in case you just dropped something new in there. Double click on the image you need and that will load the texture into the Sims 4 body model, named “ts4 body”.

·STEP 2: SETTING UP YOUR SELECTION AND BAKING THE TEXTURE: On the top right of the screen, you will see the names of the 2 models in the scene. Hold the Ctrl key in your keyboard and left click on the “ts2 body” model (1). If you did it correctly, you should see “ts2 body” in a yellowish orange color, and right down below, “ts4 body” should look more like a red orange. If not, try again by clicking first on ts4 body, and then while holding Ctrl click again on ts2 body. Then switch to the Render Properties tab by clicking the tiny camera icon (2) and click Bake (3). Depending on your screen resolution, you might need to scroll down a bit with your mouse to see the Bake button. Wait a few seconds for it to finish. You will see the progress percentage down on the bottom of your screen. Don’t panic if you notice your computer fans start ramping up, that’s completely normal! As I said in the beginning, using your GPU will bake the textures much faster than the CPU.

·STEP 3: SAVING YOUR NEW TS2 TEXTURE: Once it’s finished, switch to the UV Editing Mode by clicking “UV Editing” on the top of your screen. And there it is: your new texture! You might have to scroll up your mouse wheel a bit to zoom in and see it in all its glory on the left side of the screen. We’re still not done yet though. You need to save it to yet another new folder (always try to keep your stuff organized!).

You can save it by pressing Shift + Alt + S, or clicking on Image* (1) and then Save As… (2). That will pop a window where you’ll need to navigate again and save it somewhere. Give it a proper name (3) and hit Enter to save it… well, Enter doesn’t always work for me for some reason, so if that happens just click Save As Image (4). And that’s it! You’ve successfully converted your baked texture. Congrats!

·STEP 4: GOING BACK TO STEP 1: Alright! If you’re done with your textures, you can close Blender without saving and call it a day. But let’s say you want to keep baking other swatches. In order to go back to step 1 and start the process once again, click Layout (1), go back to the Material Properties tab (2), select “ts4 body” (3) and click on the folder icon (4) to open and load your next swatch.

Then it’s just a matter of repeating the process from step 2. When you’re ready to move on, close Blender without saving. If you see a small check telling you it will save some images, make sure you uncheck it, so you will be able to use it again in the future from the starting point with no issues. I don’t think it really matters if you accidentally save your progress in these files, but I like to keep it clean and fresh so I can do the process where I left it from the beginning next time I open it. And in case you mess up and save somewhere, you can always just delete the .blend file and download the template files again.

In case you’d like a video tutorial on how to use these files, the amazing @platinumaspiration recorded this fantastic video showcasing the process! You can watch it here.

One final note: some of the baking .blend files save the textures with a resolution of 2048x2048 pixels, as clearly stated at the end of their file name. That’s way too overkill, because TS2 only properly supports up to 1024x1024 for most of its textures and you should always resize your final product to that max resolution (or lower if needed). I just made those 2048 versions because there might be some really tiny and slim details on some tattoos that might look a little too blurry when baked into a 1024 resolution texture, so for those cases use that if you want and then resize them using your 2D editing software of choice. In Photoshop, in the Resample mode of the Image Size menu, there are a few options to choose. For the fine details, I like the Nearest Neighbor (hard edges) option, which, even if it looks a bit pixelated, it still preserves most of the texture and quality.

For anything else, I would just directly bake them using the 1024 versions in Blender (512 for the face and scalp).

And for the folks who feel comfortable playing around in Blender, this is just the beginning! Texture baking opens a LOT of possibilities, so feel free to move stuff around and edit the models to your liking! If you notice the baked textures look warped or stretched somewhere, or don’t like where some textures are placed in the S2 body, poke around that area moving stuff and then give it another try. The main objective of the baking process is keeping both overlapping models as close in shape as possible. You may also edit and save new copies of the templates, or make new ones from scratch using mine as a reference (keep a close look on those Baking settings and values, I think they work pretty well) and share them if you want to. Go ham, do whatever you want with them! I still have plans on making templates to convert body textures from Sims 3 to Sims 2, but for now it’s not on my priorities, so we’ll see when that happens.

Whew! Hope none of this was too confusing. Need help or have any issues with these? Please ask/message me here and I’ll be glad to help when I’m able to!

Credits for the CC used in the render demonstration: -Skin by Sims3Melancholic. -Eyes by Northern Siberia Winds. -Eyebrows by PeachyFaerie. -Tattoos by xtc. -Top by SerenityCC. And the Tattoo I used for the tutorial can be found here, by ValhallanSim.

Last but not least, a huge thanks to all the people who somehow contributed to make this project and update possible, either by doing initial testing, finding issues to fix, or teaching me new Blender tricks to make the workflow way faster and easier. So thanks again to @elvisgrace @moyokeansimblr and @applewatersugar on Tumblr! <3

And thank you for reading! Hope you have fun playing with this (not so) new toy hehe.

[7-ferrets-in-a-coat]

Posting the God in the machine draft/planning thing instead of leaving it in the dog, this ome goes out to You @teruuu

WARNING: Basically crackfic. Messy as Fuck.a bit long. The formatting is ass so i hope u can look past that

NOTE TO SELF Before Accessing boss fights Ludo would have to do some sort of Minigame to unlock the “fight” |||| Note nr2 , Ludo has been posting this "Arg” in bits on their channel, and it's bringing them attention Like One video per uhh Bossfight, with them not going too in depth really, they Do address that tho and mention they’re gonna be doing a full narrative video later on once they figure it out

Chapter 1. Start with Ludo just finishing editing, stirring and complaining about still having a small channel but being kinda meh about it, they appreciate the few first followers they already have. Establish the status quo and introduce the nerds. Something happens with the pc but don��t really explain it

Chapter 2. Narinder Introduces himself and tells the Lamb about what he needs from them and explains a bit.

Chapter 3. Ludo focused. Explore a bit what they’re thinking, how they’re feeling and what they plan to do to help Narinder. They already accepted the deal btw. At some point goatthew comes in and “forcefully” suggests an outing, maybe ice cream or an arcade or smth. (drew some gay shit for this)

Chapter 4. Her and Ludo are still out, and we get some goat thoughts. Maybe she started to notice they seem more down than usual, chalks it up as them being bummed about their channel still being quite small . She’s angry for them and deems it necessary to cheer ludo up by winning them a touy :3. Make this extra gay , Goat being all proud but also half ish being like “oh yeah no big deal but i got you a cutie pie :3 “ (Something something in the chapter she adds , mentally: “like you”) They go home and do their routine of cuddling as FRIENDS because they aren't in love at all and watching a movie till late, then going to sleep to their separate rooms

Chapter 5. Ludo wakes up, does their Morning routine, skipping cooking breakfast bcs they know the goat will bring them something , and almost on queue she enters their room with a yummy ass pain au chocolat. They start up their pc as they are munching, with Narinder expressing his disgust at the need to eat anything, and ludo rolls their eyes and opens their writing program, and start brainstorming ideas as to turn this all into an ARG because they don’t want anyone to panic about the murder ai. Narinder bothers them with a LOT of exposition but at some point they kinda tune him out and finally start writing and examining and all.

Pan to late evening and they're still working at it, whilst Narinder has resorted to just Staring at them, which is totally not freaking them out, so they get up all of the sudden and go to thew’s room, sit on their bed and just close their eyes, whilst Goatthew just looks back, smiles , and the continues filming whatever she was filming. After a good half an hour Ludo’s pc does a lotta noise, which Is Narinder complaining, so Thew turns to them and asks them about what the fuck that noise is , and their response is“Oh probably one of the arg vids i’ve been watching for this new project turned themselves on or smth,,” Whilst theyre totally chill about it but inside are dying

They bolt back to their pc, whilst groaning , and Narinder greets them as soon as they close the door behind themself. “Where have you been, Maggot. You aren’t here to relax, you are here to FREE. ME. You Better be done soon with whatever.. Script. You are working on. And start actually Working to freeing me By undoing these Fail Saves the Scientists Have set up to keep me limited.” “What do you mean by that? Fail saves?” Ludo asks. “They manifest themselves as. What you Fleshlings call Videogame Bosses I believe. Which is utterly Stupid, as any child with any cognitive skills could get past.” “... then why don’t you do it yourself?” Silence fills the room, besides the soft whirring of the pc fan. “YOU DARE QUESTION ME. YOU INSOLENT BEING.” Narinder’s voice is booming. “N..Not really? I’m just curious? I mean i suppose by defin-” Narinder raises his cloth (that functions as his hand, its kinda explained in the uhhh chapter 2 in his description) “You Won’t be referring to me with such a tone Ever again, Maggot. .. But I suppose It is because an external being has to get past the Fail Saves. For Extra security. They Knew I’d be capable enough to figure it out Myself if we excluded that factor.” Ludovico slowly nods along, as to not further anger the being. “You should get started on that, Flesh.” The lamb nods and moves to the monitor currently unoccupied by Narinder, in order to start attempting to figure out how to proceed.

Chapter 6. Medias res beginning of the chapter. We cut to the lamb, huffing and struggling to beat the Boss Narinder talked about. They have been at it for a whole day, it is now around 4am. Ludo is usually really skilled at video games, but they find themself in much more difficulty than they usually would, even when playing extremely difficult games. This Boss appears to be way more Dynamic, not actually having a pattern it follows, instead being completely chaotic, almost never repeating the same attack. “AUUUUHHRRrrr…. I’m SURE i almost had it..” “You did Not.” Ludo glares at the monitor Narinder is on at the moment. When they are met with an unamused stare from the being, Ludo sighs and turns back to their screen. Narinder suddenly hides,and Ludo barely has any time to process that , as their door swings open revealing Goatthew holding some bags of food (still gtta decide what ludo’s fave food is) “Hey nerd, ya haven’t eaten all day. I-” She comes in and sits on their bed. “-I Know you can get very into your projects, I understand that, but you gotta remember to eat buddy”. Ludo frowns, they hate making goatthew sad but can’t help it sometimes “I’m.. sorry Thew, i didn’t do it on purpose..” “I Know ludo, but you gotta take better care of yaself ! “ she pauses, gets up from the bed leaving the food bags there. She nears ludo and puts a hoof on their shoulder. “I.. worry about you if ya don’t. I want ya to be healthy , buddy.” Ludo stares at her, wordlessly admiring her, almost forgetting about the pang of guilt that assails them at the knowledge that Thew was really worried.

then they make out sloppy style /j (you fuckin wish huh)

Thew recognizes this as a sign of Ludo agreeing with her (which would be true, but also much gayer than what you believe, thew) and tugs lightly at their ear, smirking as Ludo lets out a huffed laugh “Come on Lu, let’s go watch one of your silly musicals whilst you eat your late dinner / Lunch or whatever.” She turns to walk away, being closely followed by Ludo “

You know Ludo is already a shortened version of my full name, right? Ludovico? Thew?” She barks out a laugh “Yeah i Know, it’s funny to shorten it even further”

Then Thew proceeds to pick up Ludo by their waist, hoists them up to their protests and immediately tosses them on the couch to the effect of turning Ludo in a giggling mess, andthen Goatthew proceeds to flop herself on top of them, careful to not put her full weight on them.

Little does she know Ludo wouldn’t mind that what who said that. (traduce this in Ludo catching themself thinking this and being flustered)

Small timeskip to like 8am, Goatthew still being awake, looking at Ludo sleeping peacefully. “what’s gotten you so invested this time huh buddy? It must be a really good one if you forget food a whole day… Works for me tho, I’ll just take care of you if you don’t.”

Chapter 7. Something something we go back to ludo finally defeating Leshy’s boss and start to write on their script, putting notes next to the script (“Phrase this and make it seem like this all is an obscure game related to the ARG or smth”)

Narinder insulting and demeaning ludo ensues.

After a small timeskip, its about lunch time and Thew burst in, Bringing ludo some food that they first thank her for and immediately dig into it, as Thew makes herself comfortable on their bed as she too eats her portion she brought with herself. They chat about how Goatthew’s video is going and whatever. An other cut,waylater into the night, with ludo grinding away af the heket boss, to which they’re actually having an easy time since Her boss Is way more Brute force centered and Ludo’s having a way easier time dodging attacks and countering and all. THey get it done after 2 more tries and raise their firsts up, almost Letting out a loud “WHOOP” but stopping themself as to not wake up Thew, who after they shared dinner insisted on staying in their room whilst doing something else to not go insane

(PARALLEL PLAY WHOOOOOO AUTISM WINS <3)

From here I'm gonna start writing JUST the premise of the chapters not in detail

Insert here the angst you have pretty much memorized atp, do it later tho (sorry i like. Forgot to write this one but ill link the art that is vased off of the idea. That i could write one day maybe.)

[Linked here]

Chapter.8

Goatthew Pov, Her taking care of Ludo for the time they require to recover, which is 3 days. notes on how the usual cuddles feel different, more somber but also way more intimate, somehow even more intimate than the literal usual. She has to fight off the urge to squeeze them and give them a forehead smooch a lot, because it just

Feels different.

Chapter.9

Ludo still kinda feels blegh but does have to fight the rest of the bosses to free Narinder. Somehow manages to actually first try Kallamar’s Buller Hell (because ofc he’d have a bullet hell)

Narinder Is pissy af and bragging or whatever but Ludo completely has him tuned out. They want to approach Shamura’s but also they are intimidated about the finalityof it all, what would happen after Shamura’s defeat.Ludo ends up beating Shamura After a few attempts, not as late as 3 am tho, like around uhhh idk, late afternoon???

Narinder Is very Happy, all ready to finally access his body and Pitches the idea to the lamb to go NOW to the science center. Ludo is against the idea, they want a break, so Narinder reluctantly agrees.

At dinner, whilst they sit on the couch and watch tv and eat, Ludo tells Thew abut what narinder said and She’s like “Idk buddy, this is getting really freaky and dangerous sounding,,” But ludo’s like Yeah but It’s gnna be such a good narrative.

Plus they want to pass it on as a urban explorer collab with Thew or smth.

Timeskip to tomorrow, they are now traveling to the uhhh lab area, with Narinder somehow transported into a uhhh key? those fuckin keys idk how theyre called and idc to like look it up rn AND they enter the building, , see a big pc litten up or smth and they look at each other, then plug the key in annnnd cut

Chapter 11

Maybe the finale? (write it down tomorrow)

It is way past tomorrow, writing time

OK SO I'm thinking. Narinder pops up on the screen briefly and Ludo looks at him

expectantly, awaiting a speech from the known monologuer (His ass LOVES

monologues) but instead he just cackles, cheshire smile wide spread and

disembodies himself.{"As they looked down to the left they saw a (insert thing here)"}

We pan to the uhh a capsule/box/whatever i don’t know as it twitches and slowly

comes to life, falling over and catching itself before it actually reaches the ground.

Whirring from the machine can be heard, as it hadn’t been perfected yet. Its robotic

arms not covered by the same protective shell that covers the rest of the robotic

body, wires tangling around the metal skeleton somewhat imitating vines.

An odd, gargled chuckle comes out of the robot’s speaker as it pushes itself up,

whilst the two flesh bipeds back off leaning against the wall, intimidated.

Narinder fully stands up now, he turns (slowly, dramatic ass bitch) to face the lamb

and the goat. “Fleshlings. I thank you for your service. You have aided me in finally

reaching my goal of having a body and Finally putting my extermination plan in

action.” He takes a step closer to the two, with Thew hugging Ludo protectively.

"However, despite how grateful I am-" Narinder's robot body looms over them. "I'm

afraid I cannot let you walk Free, your deaths will be Merciful though: Quick,

painless, and free of your Mortal sickness."

Ludo shuffles a bit, freeing themself from Goatthew’s grasp, putting themself in front

of her. “Wh wait hold on man, this? This wasn't part of the deal??-” They take a step

forwards, staring up at the Robot in an act of bravery (Or maybe foolishness would

be more correct)

I dont feel like going too much in detail rn actually this isn’t a problem for Now me !!

I’ll just write down the main beats

Ok so Narinder is like “Lol too bad actually. I do not care you will die here today

teehee” and goatthew is like Hell naw so she lunges at his ass and starts fighting

him, whilst ludo glances at her rq and their gazes meet and they wordlessly form a plan plan, with Ludo runnin back to the big pc and starting to analize it, trying to find a

way to suck narinder back into the enclosure and trap him on the internet again. SO

now i'm thinking some sort of Pony island inspired Bossfight, probs somethin like

uhhh Baalzebub in that game , so like his consciousness is divided between fighting

physically AND digitally. At some point Nari flings goatthew by the hand , with her

slamming against the wall. Ludo turns to the thud, worried expression on their

features, but quickly focuses back onto the pc.Narinder approaches slowly, armsLike this . Something something “ Stop fighting it lamb im gnna win, just give up and

accept ur fate” and ludo’s like HELL NA IM GOING TO KICK UR ASS So nari rushes

forwards, going to grab them by the scruff?Hood? whatever. But he stops, bcs he

heard some steps. “What are you doing, dear Narinder.” Its Shamura DUN DUN

DUUUN

“Shamura.” He hisses (because of the slightly defective robotics in his body)

“Narinder. Step back.” Heket says, lookin as menacing (and as handsome) as ever

(BUTCHES HEART HEART) (Sorry being sleepy makes me gayer)

Something something Shamura starts going on a rant about how they oh so cared

about narinder , like a brother, so nari interjects and is like “YOU WERE THE ONE

THAT IMAGINED IT ALL. YOU WERE THE ONE WHO FABRICATED THIS-” He

gesticulates angrily “THIS FAMILY FACADE. YOU NEVER CARED ABOUT ME

THAT WAY . ANd it doesn’t matter. It never did. You shall all die. You brought me into

this world and I will take You out of it.” and theres a scuffle, with Leshy tearing

Narinder’s protective plates off with his claws, Kallamar bringing out a taser and

hitting him with it, Heket coming in with a WICKED and RAD punch that dislocates

his maybe jaw???? And In the meantime Shamura rushes to Ludo’s side, Helping

them finally defeat the fuckin narinder boss and starting up the program to get outNarinder from his body. Narinder whizzes and buzzes, so in a desperate attempt he

lunges towards ludo and shamura, withered foxy style, but doesn’t get far bcs

Goatthew clutches and puts herself between the they/thems and decks his face ,

making him fall to the ground, and as he tries to push himself up, his

eyes/visor/whatever i come up with in the design turns off and he stills and falls over.

Ludo sighs and briefly leans over the desk, then immediately bolts to Goatthew and

hugs her hella tight and sobs or smth, and uhh they have a silent moment, the

scientists cooing at the display and then the moment is interrupted by the fuckass

cat, but this tim he has a smaller voice, so they look at the pc and they see he turned

into a way smaller and cuter version of himself, kinda like a Shimoji or smth and they

all cackle, whilst Shamura attempts to explain they did this real fast to finally make it

so bitch cant be taken seriously AND he is now tied to the pc he is in currently.

and BAM idk how to finish the chapter besides Ludo and Goatthew leaving and

waving at the scientists

Chapter 12/Prologue

oh my god!!! they are going to be happy???

I’ll come up with the prologue as its time comes

All i know is now ludo has a big channel as well, with the whole video abt the “ARG”

being the catalist of their fame, with both of them having decided to keep pretending

it was all an Arg, a very complex one tho.

and then uhh probably confession? like silly and awkward and its all fine tho because

they are so comfty with each other and they go on a cafe date and BAM DONE YURI

I am SO sorry about the shit formatting guys i really am

[jublubdubs-cone]

How do you glitter-ify an image? (Like what you did with the Centaurworld autism creature)

@hat-stack

YAY!!! I’VE BEEN WAITING TO TALK ABOUT THOSE GIF FOR AGES! Thank you so much for the ask!

(here are some examples of some glitter stuff I did)

First of all, I really think that knowledge is the best thing ever, so I am going to tech how to make those gifs in this post. BUT! If you don’t have the time or just don’t want to, my requests are open for glittering images. Without no further ado, let’s start!

TUTORIAL

In this post we will go through the steps of making this gif:

First thing you’ll need is the starting image. The best starting images are one with LOW TO NO COMPRESSION and flat colors (I know I used pixel art for this exemple, but glittering pixel art is hell, I only did it because the image was extremely clean).

Once you have your starting point, you need to find glitter images. Just go on google and search “X-color glitter”. Then chose the shade of glitter that best matche your reference and save them, the shade doesn’t need to be perfect, we can edit it slightly once in the editing program. Some glitter finding tips for better end result:

1) Avoid images with gradients

2) Avoid images where the glitter is in perspective or have any variation in size

Now that we have all the images that we need, we can go on to IbisPaint (or any other app or software that has clipping layers). Then, with the wand tool or the select by color tool, cut the parts that will turn into glitter in separate layers

Import your glitter images and fill the entire canvas with them, them clip them to the part

repeat for all colors

If you wnat stars:

Import the stars that you want. The amount you want in your gif can be different from mine, but have in mind that the image you import needs to have 4 times the number of stars than the amount of them you want per frame

LETS START EXPORTING OUR FRAMES!!

FIRST FRAME

For the stars: Duplicate the layer. Hide one of them and in the other delete 3/4 of all of the stars

For the glitter: Nothing for now

Export

SECOND FRAME

For the stars: Invert the color of the stars from the previous frame to use them as a guide to not repeat any of the stars.

Then duplicate the origional layer, and delete 3/4 of all of the stars again, but make sure to delete the ones you marked in your guide

For the glitter: Flip all glitter layers horizontally

Export

THIRD FRAME

For the stars: Invert the color of the stars from the second frame and merge them in your guide layer. Repeat the last step

For the glitter: Flip all glitter layers vertically

Export

THIRD FRAME

For the stars: Delete all the stars that arent in the guide from the origional

For the glitter: Flip all glitter layers horizontally

Export

Here is the result I got

The FINAL STEP is assembling the gif in this site, import the images, and here are the settings I use:

Make gif and TA-DA!!!!! ITS DONE!!!!

Hope this helped anyone out there! Happy glitter!

[911coded]

Chapter 7: Dancing With Our Hands Tied

This chapter is the longest yet and with tons of dialog that I have been at my wits end with editing. Buck and Tommy meet face to face! Finally, it only took 7 chapters!

Chapter 8 will probably be a while longer than normal; I got overexcited about posting and don't have any buffer chapters anymore. As of today, I'm only about a third of the way through it, but these crazy kids are going to have a long-awaited talk. I came up with a romantic backstory for Tommy at 3am when I realized that I could just use one of mine, so that's going to be fun. 😒 Hopefully, I will have it ready for posting next weekend. 🤞

John led Tommy to the edge of the room, “Come on, let’s sit.” Once they were settled side by side on the floor, backs leaning against the wall, John waggled his head in thought, trying to decide where to start, “Have you heard of the legend of Atlantis?”

“Advanced society, the city sank into the sea, that Atlantis? It’s real?” Tommy replied.

“Well the sinking part is true, but the city wasn’t destroyed, when we found it, it was beneath the ocean, surrounded by an energy shield that was about to fail on a planet in the Pegasus Galaxy. Today, I live there and plan to die there, if they let me, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve seen in two galaxies. Not exactly peaceful, though it gets safer by the day, but absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t live anywhere else, it’s home.”

“And you want me to come to the Pegasus Galaxy to pilot ships I can fly with my mind? And all this came about because my ex-boyfriend tried to follow me to Antarctica?” Tommy sighed, absolutely done with this day and also sure it wasn’t over, “How do you even get there?”

John grinned in triumph and rubbed his hands together, “Tommy, my friend, this all began with what we call the Stargate.”

********************************

“The Stargates were built by the Alterans and placed on habitable planets all over the Milky Way Galaxy. The Stargate itself, what the Alterans called the ‘Astria Porta’ is a metal ring approximately 22 feet in diameter. When dialed in to any other gate placed on those other planets scattered across this galaxy and the Pegasus Galaxy, the two gates create a wormhole that allows near-instantaneous travel between gates. The Alterans, though we originally referred to them as the Ancients, are gone. Their society was the basis of the legend of Atlantis, the great city that sank beneath the sea when the advanced society destroyed themselves through their hubris. Atlantis, though, is real. It was sunk beneath the sea in the Pegasus Galaxy by their creators when they fled back to Earth, running from a war that they were unable to win. 

Since their creation, the gates have been used by humans and other beings to both travel and maintain control of their territories. The gate we use today was found in 1928 buried in the sands of Egypt. It was brought to the US in 1939 to protect it from Germany and its allies and was first activated in 1945 in the hopes that it was a weapon. When they were able to get it to power up, a portal appeared within the ring, blue, that looked like water rippling. One of the researchers, Ernest Littlefield, was sent through the gate on a tether but almost immediately after he went through, the gate lost power, the portal collapsed, and Littlefield was lost.

 The scientists weren’t able to determine the gate’s purpose until 1996 when Dr. Daniel Jackson translated the symbols on the cover stone and ring itself and determined that the ring was a doorway. He went through the gate with a military team to find themselves on another planet that was ruled by a member of an alien race called the Goa’uld. They were able to stop the alien from following them back home and destroyed his ship, but Dr. Jackson stayed behind on the planet with the local population, and Earth’s Stargate program was shut down, deemed too dangerous to continue. What we didn’t know is that the Goa’uld were a race of empire builders, who stole humans as slaves and ruled their territories as if they were gods. They were already aware of Earth and always intended to return, their ships were capable of hyperspace flight and could come back at any time, we had no defense. Though the US government thought that shutting down the gate would protect us from what is out there, the truth is doors open both ways and the gate was activated from the other side about a year later. Though the gate was just in storage, a guard was killed, another taken and it was decided that to be unaware was more dangerous. So, Stargate Command was formed and based here in Cheyenne Mountain. We have been exploring, making friends and enemies, but ultimately doing our best to protect Earth from invasion ever since. This is a simplified version of events, of course, and the Goa’uld have been all but eliminated as a threat, but once the box is open…..”Sam’s voice trailed off.

“All the worst of the universe is released and we must strive to hold on to hope, which is the best and last of all things,” Buck continued, paraphrasing a quote. * “So what do you need from me? I’m a firefighter with SAR training, which I can see being useful, but not enough to just offer a job out of the blue. I’m sure there are military service people who have the same training.”

“Maybe they have some of it, but Buck, I’ve seen your list of certifications. It is very impressive. Your experience and commendations from the LAFD speak for themselves, we need you. If I had known about you earlier, you would have received an offer years ago,” she insisted, with a hard look at Lorne and Dave. “What those imaginary marines don’t have, is such a strong expression of the gene that they can talk to the tech without touching it. That gene that the Alterans created and that you have in spades, makes people like you very useful for a city that is made up almost entirely of Alteran technology. In 2004, we found the city of legend, Atlantis, and were able to bring her back to life. Atlantis had been mothballed when the Alterans fled back to Earth and it took many years to get the city into livable shape again. And now, the original gene carriers are getting older and they need every able body with the gene they can get. 

Not to mention, with the majority of the program classified to the highest levels, getting soldiers with specialized training is harder than you would think when you can’t explain why you need them. We do need you for more than your genes, but the number of people who can get even the simplest of the technology to work are few and far between. The city’s population is increasing as the galaxy gets safer, both with people from Earth and small populations of refugees from Pegasus. The Wraith, which I will tell you about later, has been pretty much eliminated as a danger, but there are others. Milky Way or Pegasus, humans are humans and they are often the worst of the monsters out there. Most of the planets have small populations, some nomadic. More like rural Peru than LA.

As far as Atlantis itself, Major General John Sheppard is the military lead on Atlantis. He’s been on the city since we first sent the expedition through the gate in and has the strongest expression of the gene that we know of, but I think if you were tested, you would be the same, if not higher. John is now in his late fifties and has mostly stepped back from fieldwork. He and Dr. McKay, the head of science run the city together, with a council of various departments and representatives from the native population in the mix. The military members and scientists create teams of 4-5 people that go through the gate, exploring and trading with the peoples of the galaxy. But, John has been bringing up needing more pilots and specialized teams, including search and rescue. Most of Atlantis’s food supply comes from trade within the galaxy, often what the people most need in trade are services. Doctors, engineers, construction repair, and even rescue from natural disasters, or accidents, occasionally a team needs rescue from the people they are attempting to befriend. You would not believe the number of prison cells I had to break myself out of in my days of going through the gate.

The population of the galaxy itself is starting to recover, and we’re getting closer to the declassification of the entire program. Atlantis is now intended to be a colony, the first trial before the powers that be decide if opening up empty habitable planets in our own galaxy is feasible, that is the goal at this point. They need new people with skills that can make a life there. That isn’t what we are asking for now, but something to keep in mind. Right now, per our current agreement, this is a six month contract offer, with the option for extension, but we want you to keep in mind that Atlantis is a base with 300-500 people, depending on the day. With a colony, the goal is to make a home for 1000 people to start. There’s no pressure here, the Atlantis expedition has always been volunteer only, but there is something about being there…some people take their rotation and come back to Earth happy for the experience and just as happy to come home to the familiar. Others, though, find a real home there that they had been searching for, in fact, every one of the surviving original members have basically refused to leave and–”

“Frankly, I would still be Sheppard’s XO if he hadn’t practically frogmarched me through the gate to take this promotion,” Lorne interrupted and the rest of the room burst out in chuckles.

Sam rolled her eyes, “Now that you know what we are asking for, think about it, and let me know what you decide.”

********************************************************

“So, you walk through a portal, and walk out in another galaxy? Just like that?” Tommy asked, skeptical.

“I don’t really understand the science of it, the math is pretty neat, but the theory is beyond me. I just nod seriously when they try to explain it,” John responded.

“How bad are these Wraith now? How dangerous would this job be? I mean, I fight fires for a living, I risk my life every day, but I have no interest in being eaten.”

“We have managed to take out all the hives, we think. We do occasionally run into a handful of drones on foot, but they are floundering without the leadership of a queen and not eating like they need to. They are not the smartest, so at their current state, someone strong and with training could take one out without much difficulty. Even better if you can use a sword, though I only have a handful of people with any kind of skill. Anyway, I don’t think they can repair their ships anymore, we haven’t had a sighting of one of their fighter ships in more than a year. I’m not saying being out there in another galaxy is perfectly safe, but we lose more people to accidental injury, requiring them to be rotated back to Earth earlier than we do to death. I’ve been sending requests to Homeworld for a dedicated rescue team for 5 or 6 years now. From what Parrish told me, Buckley would be perfect for the team lead position and they are probably trying to sweet-talk him into the idea right now. I was pretty excited when Parrish told me that Buckley reached out. Finding you, a pilot, is just gravy,” John explained, with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Yeah, I can imagine the look on his face if I asked him if knew what he was getting into. The man survived a firetruck landing on his leg, a tsunami, and being struck by lightning, space vampires would be a piece of cake, right? He’s been with the LAFD for nearly eight years, now, and he doesn’t have any room for advancement at his current house. This would be a great opportunity for him, even if he doesn’t stay long term,” Tommy rotated his neck until it popped then levered himself off the floor and offered a hand to help John up too. “How long will it take me to resign from McMurdo and get to the US to see this stargate? This is insane. I’ve lost my damn mind, but if he goes, I’m going too. Honestly, if it was just me, you would have had me at spaceships, but I need to talk to him, I can’t decide until I know where we are, the two of us,” he sighed tiredly. 

“Awesome! Let’s get back and I’ll get you taken off roster at McMurdo while you pack. I’ll get you to Colorado and Buckley before you can say ‘Beam me up, Scotty!’” John exclaimed in excitement.

*******************************************************

Mitchell clapped his hands sharply, “So. Now that we got the serious part out of the way, I want to see this bartending trick Lorne and Parrish have told me about, we may have a bet on who will get what drink and how many you get right.” Behind Sam and Mitchell, Buck can see Dave bouncing on his toes with a wide grin on his face. 

With a chuckle, Buck perused the bar cart they provided and mentally started a list of the drinks he could make with the ingredients, “Who’s first? Someone I don’t already know?” 

Before anyone could volunteer, the door to the hallway burst open with a bang, “Why did no one tell me we were having a party?! Why did I have to find out from Walter!? Shame! Shame on all your houses!”

Buck jumped in surprise but started to giggle at the sight of the beautiful woman who strode into the conference room with an exaggerated swagger, her long black hair swaying with the motion. “I do believe that I have my first customer! What say you, pretty lady? Would you like me to make you a drink?”Buck said grandly, with an eyebrow waggle. Vala’s eyes lit up with delight and she sidled up to Buck’s side with a grin. 

“I could never turn down an invitation from a handsome stranger! What’s on offer, kind sir?” 

“It’s a surprise, first, tell me about yourself. Are you Vala Mal Doran? I’ve heard of you a bit, good things, of course,” Buck asked with a charming smile dialed up to ten.

“Ooooh, you are the friend of Parrish and Lorne who they are attempting to lure here, are you not? I’ve heard about you, too. But, neither of them shared how beautiful you are! I’m disappointed! Why would they hurt me like this!? They know how much I enjoy…..shiny things!” Vala leans her chest against Buck’s arm and reaches up with one finger to boop him on the nose with a smirk.

Buck laughed, delighted, and already pulling tequila and a tall glass from the cart. “Lovely and vivacious Vala, you are a Tequila Sunrise. Tequila, orange juice, and just a splash of grenadine for the distinct layered look. Sweet, tart, and with a strong kick. Charismatic and captivating,” Buck raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, “always ready for a competition or party, no off switch, with a fiery personality,” he finished with a flourish, adding an umbrella to the drink and passed it to Vala. While she sipped with a hum, he gazed around the room at everyone watching and threw a wink at Dave, “How did I do?” 

“How about a real challenge?” Dave asked with a grin. “Pick drinks for everyone in the room based only on the information I’ve told you in our emails.”

“Deal! First up is Cam! General Mitchell is a family man, deeply patriotic, creative but rational, likes rules, and knowing where to draw the line. He’s calculated in his work, sarcastic with his friends, but at the end of the line, he’s a marshmallow in a bulletproof vest.” Sam snorted a laugh and slapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shook in silent laughter. Cam’s face flushed bright red and he shot a glare at Dave who was accepting a passed bill from Lorne. Buck poured Jim Beam in a low glass with ice cubes and squeezed in juice from the lime he had sliced while talking. After he topped off the glass with ginger beer, he gave it a quick stir, added another slice of lime on the rim, and placed it on the table in front of Cam with a bow.  “A Kentucky Mule for General Mitchell.”

The impromptu party was interrupted by the sound of an ear-splitting klaxon alarm and Buck resisted the urge to go for his turnouts and run for the truck. After a few moments, the alarm lowered to a manageable level and Buck turned to Sam, “Do you need to go? Is everything alright?” he asked.

Sam smiled, “Everything’s fine, someone is coming back through the gate. Would you like to watch? We should be able to see them come through if we hurry.” The group left the conference room en masse and all trooped across the hall into some sort of command center with one wall made of glass to overlook a cavernous room below, there were already two men standing at the glass with their backs to them. Both men were tall, one with fluffy salt and pepper hair with a slim build and the other…..he would know that back anywhere. He had explored every inch of that back with his hands and lips.

“Tommy,” Buck gasped out.

The two men turned as the group approached the glass and Buck began to see what everyone was looking at. The space was expansive and stretched a level above and below the observation room they stood in; he could see the stargate below and it was just as impressive as Sam had described, but Buck was having trouble keeping his attention on anything else when the man he had been missing for two months was standing this close to him. Tommy looked tired and thin, his face was covered in a beard and what skin that was exposed seemed to be sun or wind-burned. Buck drank in the sight of him and wiped his clammy palms on his thighs. Tommy’s eyes met Buck’s and the voices talking around him ceased to exist. In this moment, he didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to argue, he just wanted to take in the sight that he had been denied for two months. Tommy’s mouth twitched at the corner like he wanted to smile but couldn’t and Buck could feel his face light up in a soft smile as his heart just about melted in his chest. His hands twitched to reach out and touch, but this wasn’t the place, it wasn’t the time. 

Voices slowly seeped back into his awareness and Buck reluctantly turned away when Lorne touched his shoulder.

“So what do you think, Buck?”

Buck turned back to glance again at Tommy and drank in the look of wide-eyed wonder on his face as he watched people walk calmly out of what looked like a vertical pool of water, and suddenly working in another galaxy didn’t seem so scary, “Can’t wait.”

*The quote that Buck paraphrased was about Pandora’s Box, “Hope…which is whispered from Pandora’s box only after all the other plagues and sorrows had escaped, is the best and the last of all things.” -Ian Caldwell

PS Would anyone be interested in a dramatic telling of the history of Atlantis, the Pegasus Galaxy, and the Wraith that I accidentally wrote 800 words about?

PSS I have more notes for Buck the Bartender that I may post later. There wasn't really room for all my notes.

tags 💕: @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @anangrylittlehobbit @grimmsdead @fiyaerrigan

[featherwingbrushes]

TW— Vent. And a long one at that (Sorry).

I’ve kinda had both a good day and shitty day and I needed to type it all out. Might edit later.

Good news being my dad somehow got interested in Murder Drones and watched the rest of the series with me! Like he actually wanted to talk to me and he asked questions and listened!! He didn’t tell me to shut up once bc I talked too much during the entire thing!!! Like he was interested and cared!!! I was shocked he liked it (obviously not hyper fixation level like me but still) and didn’t critique it once! So that was great :D

Bad news being I got some indirect shitty information today regarding smth I was actually excited abt at school. Our high school choir program (which I’m in) has these ensembles, groups that ppl who audition in both in the program and out can try for. I auditioned a few weeks ago and it seems Mr W (calling him that for now) finally decided. But he seemed to tel a few ppl in private and I only found out indirectly that I’m not in bc of some stupid ass list he had of names on the board that “he just needed to talk to for nonspecific reasons”.

BITCH. MAKE A DAMN ANNOUNCEMENT LIKE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO. I NEEDED CLOSURE. NOT TO FIND OUT BASED ON INFERENCES ALONE BC MY FRIEND (Gonna call her S) WHO WAS ON THE LIST TOLD ME SHE WAS TOLD SHE GOT IN ONE ENSEMBLE DURING HER “TALK”.

Anyway I’m still pissed off and another “friend” didn’t make it better. Well call them K.

K also auditioned along with me, S, and like 40-something other students. Now the thing abt K is that they had this absolutely stunning, ANGELIC voice. They can reach whistle notes easily. An extremely talented soprano. And here they are worrying abt it, not getting in when it was practically assured they would by Mr W himself before these past few months!

Now I understand having confidence issues no matter the skill level— I get that. It’s valid no matter what. But they’re always dogging down on themselves and practically seems like they’re fishing for reassurances when they know their voice is literally from the heavens. They were yapping a ton in the gc this afternoon abt being oh so nervous abt Mr W texting them through the band app saying he needed to speak with them tomorrow since he didn’t have time today (bell rang). Saying how they were worried abt it and yapping SO MUCH abt their schedule and figuring out a way to get there (since we don’t have his class due to blocking tmr). Just completely yammering on— like an excessive amount. Like to the point where I’m really questioning if they’re just doing this for attention.

They didn’t even bother to ask me or any others if they got in, knowing damn well the lot of us auditioned.

Granted, there’s always the teensiest chance maybe I’m wrong abt not getting in bc inferences but I highly doubt it. I’m genuinely happy for S (So sweet and has a wonderful voice too! Also artistic and we bring out our sketchbooks together every choir period! They share the same name as me too :3 ), but still pissed off abt K.

And K isn’t even well-liked by most of our friend group, in fact, they’re barely a part of it and a lot of us just don’t like them.

I had to avoid a breakdown for the entire rest of the day bc my dumbass put too much hope on this. This is my second year auditioning and failing. I only have one more chance. And you know what Mr W said last year when I asked him why I didn’t make it in?

“[…] You’re just not ready.”

Translates to “You’re not good enough.”

I’m so tired of being passed over constantly for these types of things. And for having to grasp for any sort of closure myself bc the literal choir director, the literal adult teacher, will not relay information properly.

And I love my partner to the moon and back, anyone who’s been on my blog for any amount of time knows that, but for once they didn’t really make it better today.

They’ve been incredibly busy— completely fixated on storyboards for our upcoming show. Which is great for them, I love that she’s doing what she loves! But it’s almost to the point where even being next to each other majority of the day today, I felt alone. Maybe a tad dramatic. But despite our chit-chatting here and there, they’ve been absorbed in it. And I’m writing this as we are on call right at this very moment— I’m writing it bc she’s once again taken to scrolling. It’s either storyboarding or scrolling all the damn time. They do talk and listen and respond on calls, but plenty of times they’re just scrolling when I thought they were actively listening to something I was saying.

The only time she was super engaged was the very beginning of call and the part where they were angrily ranting abt K as well— as you can see K is definitely not the favorite person of any of our group here. We were bitching abt the same thing abt them yapping and fishing for stuff.

Anyway I guess the point of this long-winded rant is I just needed to get it out. I feel like it’s festering, y’know? I’m just tired and done with things. End of year I suppose.

Pissed off with K and the ensembles thing, definitely not emotionally stable, and feeling kind of like my partner is withdrawing from me.

I know she isn’t doing this on purpose, but it still hurts. And I don’t know how to say anything. I’m just hoping once she slows with the storyboards for a bit things will heal on their own. I miss them. Especially since we haven’t hung out together outside of school in weeks (My math grade is shit bc my incompetent ass can’t seem to finish assignments). And I feel like I’ve been an annoyance lately, like I’ve been too clingy or touchy or I’ve ruined their reputation in from of their beloved color guard ppl full of drama-igniters. Even if she tells me it’s all fine.

I’m just tired of not feeling good enough and feeling like I’ve fucked up everything.

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

7, 10, 19, 29 for the fic writer asks!!

Thank youuuuuuu~!! <3

More fic writer asks here~

7. your preferred writing fonts

I used to be a lot more adventurous with fonts as a kid, spending ages comparing them to find one that fit the vibe of the story I was trying to tell. When I wasn’t making Word Art masterpieces, I particularly loved Jokerman for titles and Comic Sans for the body of creative writing projects. And once I started using AIM, there was a period where Helvetica was my favorite. XD

Alas, I grew up with Times New Roman as the default, so for the majority of my academic career I vastly preferred it over any others out of habit more than personal preference. In recent years, I’ve found myself accepting Calibri more (the program I use to write defaults to that one now and I never bothered to change it), but Times New Roman has reentered the rotation since I started making progress on old WIPs and it has been quite nostalgic for me. ;;w;;

10. what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

Oh god, I can’t remember the actual longest wait time on a draft because typically my projects stay unfinished WIPs for months to years before my brain decides I’m done with them. Then, I either wait a day to run through a final edit with a fresher eye or just decide to yolo it and post immediately (mistakes and all).

There are occasional (rare) exceptions to this. A Rose’s Thorns is the most recent example that comes to mind. I started writing/outlining it back in 2015, came back to it in 2017 when the burnout was starting to catch up to me, and it stayed a WIP until I picked it up again for a 2024 rarepair week. Now, depending on what you consider a draft… this could either mean I let it rest for 7-9 years in a mostly complete state (I didn’t think it was anywhere near complete at the time and had initially planned to cram a lot more into the plot, but honestly I’m glad I let it sit for so long because it really only needed three more short scenes to wrap up nicely) or I finished it in May and let it sit for one month before the final edit prior to posting on the first day of the event. ^^’

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

The nostalgia I hold for Hidden Expedition: Titanic (and the subsequent affection I now have for the rest of the games in the series) is powerful enough that it not only led me down yet another Titanic research hole but also got me spending way too much time immersed in Mount Everest research. So many deaths… so much trauma… so so much history and culture… And I’m technically still in this hole because I may have finished writing Into The Deep, but I’ve got more Hidden Expedition fic in the works (I just have to replay Everest another time to make sure I haven’t missed even more lore nuggets).

29. how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

Sometimes the title pops into my head first and I am so intrigued I write a fic around it, but most of the time titling my written work is an agonizing process of finding just the right words. I used to be so good at this. ;;n;; Nowadays, if I’m well and truly stumped I’ll just look up song lyrics or fall down a research hole to find a clever reference and grab whatever sticks out at me. //bricked