#ceiling fan factory

[springhillspeedyelectrician]

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[writers-potion]

Let's Scare Your Readers!

Combine the techniques below with the techniques for building suspense to give your readers a palm-sweating sensation!

Darkness

If absolute darkness doesn't make sense in your story, aim for semi-darkness: dusk, a single lantern/candle, heavily curtained windows, a thick canopy of trees, etc. Flickering lights that create confusing shadows can also be effective.

Let the darkness pool gradually around your MC. Show the night or fog rolling in, the camp-fire subsiding, or the candles burn down one by one.

Examples:

The candle sputtered. The light wavered.

The lamp cast its smoky light on the brick walls.

The night was silent, but for the dry rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees.

Sound

Of all the senses, the sense of hearing serves best to create excitement and fear.

the clacking of the villain's boots on the floor tiles, the ticking of the wall clock, a dog barking outside, the roaring of a distant motor, a door slamming somewhere in the house, water dripping from the ceiling, the chair squeaking, the whine of the dentist's drill, the scraping of the knife on a whetstone, a faraway siren wailing the heroine's own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

When the surroundings are dark, your MC will grow to be more aware of the surrounding noise, even if it's not relevant to the plot.

Chill

Make it uncomfortably cold for the MC, and your readers will shiver with them.

powercut cutting off the heating, nightfall naturally bringing in lower temperatures.

winter, evening, a cool breeze that chills everything, survivors running our of fuel, the ceiling fan is over-active, stone builindg/caves/sbuterranean chambers tend to be cold.

Describe how the cold pinpricks the MC's skin, stunting their thinking and making them shiver.

The opposite can also be effective: turn up the temperature using a stove, an overheated motor, or the sweltering sun to make the MC sweat.

Isolation

This is a common technique: let the MC face the monster alone with no external help. It's also easier to limit the resources and escape routes available for the MC.

an abandoned factory, remote mountaintop, the depth of an unexplored cave.

It can also be more everyday locations: a construction site, the sewer, a malfunctioning bathroom.

Meet the Monster

When describing the threat, spread out your descriptions so that (1) the scene has constant action (2) you have material to build up later.

Good details to show:

hands, fingers, nails, talons, claws

the sound of the voice, growl, roar

the smile, teeth

the texture of skin, fur, scales.

Get Visceral

Never tell your readers that the MC is scared. Describe the fright using these physical effects:

the skin crawling, breath stalling, scalp pricking, clenching of the chest, stomach curling, heart thudding, sweat tricking down, clogged throat, pulse in the ears, cold sweat, chills up/down the spine, stomach knotting, breathless, etc.

The Gory Bits

Instead of describing everything, limit yourself to particular details, keeping overall description short. Non-stop gore doesn't shock - its bores.

Create a contrast: the child's mutilated corpse still clutches the doll. The brains from the baby's plt skull spill across the fluffy pink blanket.

Use similes, comparing gruesome buts to something from ordinary life. The intestines look like spaghetti in tomato sauce. The blood spilling from the mouth looks like lipstick.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[bun-z-bakery]

(Repost from my abandoned account) these are just my personal head canons for dogday. this is a survivor au

(All characters are over 18 btw)

-dogday sometimes has dog like tendencies, like growling, barking etc.

-he doesn't remember a lot about his life as a worker but will share stories he remembers of his human life once you two become close.

-man is like a love sick puppy. First you save him? Give him legs? AND a home?! And his friends are here too?! You really are his angel.

-he's very protective of his angel. He can't have anyone take them away or even hurt them. Plus all those years locked away, he can't loose you, you're his hope.

-this man will most certainly plan his confession, script and all. Maybe you're away at work and this is something he's been working on for a while. He's always bringing you little gifts on his hunting trips (depending on if you like to collect rocks and such) but this dude went out of his way to find the best of the best. Even somehow found flowers beautiful enough to almost rival your beauty, keyword: almost.

-he enjoys spending time with you, poppy and kissy, he enjoys playing outside with you three, even if you guys have been out of the factory for years already. They still enjoy the outside world.

-I know bro is huge, like dude is taller than an American door way (according to some measurements fans have made, hes 9'5) if you're a shorty (like me 5 feet even😭) he will most definitely pick you up and carry you like a dogtoy. He likes the feeling of carrying his angel, it gives him a sense of pride doing so. Even if you accidentally hit the ceiling or he needs to really get down so you don't hit the top of the doorframe, he will always apologize or joke about it.

-he's a cuddler, he LOVES cuddling! He has his own giant dog bed in your shared room, but he prefers to sleep on your shared bed. If you're away from work and he's eepy, he'll pass out on your bed because it smells like you. Your scent keeps him at bay until you come home. Poor guy will shoot up and push anyone out of his way to be the first to get to you! He sits there on the floor waiting for his mandatory headpats and kisses as soon as he hears your keys.

-it takes his brain a few minutes to properly turn on. After all those years he finally gets proper sleep, I can imagine you waking up first and getting ready for the day to prepare breakfast for the group and you poke him, trying to wake him. He'll mumble some random stuff about not letting rats do taxes then fall back asleep only to be woken again by your pokes still talking nonsense. I can also see him sometimes waking up confused, you know like when you wake up your parents and they're mad for no reason asking what's wrong while gasping for air? (Just me?) I can see him being THAT dead asleep bhahsha

-my take on the survivor au is more of a modern take (as in yes the factory closed years also but reader is possibly in early to late 20s sometime in 20xx / non specified year) so they weren't an employee but probably knew someone like a family member who worked there or was dared to enter the factory (we'll see if I ever post my fanfic haha as these hcs kinda tie into that story) so dogday being alive in the 80s or 90s he probably has like the old school idea of love and attempts to swoon you as such. The flowers, cheesy pick up lines.

-I can imagine because he's not up to date with the newer terms and he might be confused while trying to seem cool haha. "Angel what does rizzler mean?" (Poor peepaw)

- Personally I love the theory that DogDay is an ex worker aka Rich. Which is probably why he was the leader of the smiling critters. Because he was mature enough to make sure everyone was in line/well behaved, I also think some other workers were turned into the mascots too (obviously) but maybe they trusted Rich more so they just threw him into the dance circle and hope that he'd be a good leader.

- this one ties into the first one btw! I like the think that maybe he was one of the mascots when he worked there. Like a guy in the costume who worked with the kids (hence the zipper, how else would the workers get into the bigger body suits?)

- I like to think DogDay likes when Angel calls him by his old human name. Maybe once he opens up more about his human life (or at least bringing up some of the memories he still has) he just randomly brings up his name when talking about a memory and hearing Angel repeat his name back, he'd probably like hearing it. It might make him feel like less of a monster in a sense. Granted I think he wouldn't care about what Angel calls him but he would most definitely prefer for them to alternate. Like you know when someone makes you mad and you use their real name instead of their nickname? He'd hate for his Angel to get mad, especially at him. But when living with 3 other people it can get a bit hectic.

"DogDay! Did you bring mud into the house?!"

"N-No!... "

*silence*

"RICH, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

*footsteps are heard and DogDay bolts out the door*

- Now this head canon I have can go either one of two ways, right? Hear me out. Listen up, listen carefully, and listen closely. (Lmk if you got that reference) ok so back to the zipper! I think the zipper just opens to his organs tbh like the zipper was just left functional in case he needed to be "repaired internally". BUT another thought, I also can see there being some sort of barrier! You know those stuff animals who have their stuffing blocked by a barrier so it doesn't fall out but the zipper opens to a compartment where you can store items? I kinda think that's whats there tbh, I mean it makes sense. What if one of the kids opened the zipper by mistake? Surely there would be a barrier just in case.

- as I mentioned in the last hc post, I can see him trying to swoon Angel in the old romantic type of way. I can see him pinning after Angel hard, at first they wouldn't get the hint, they'd probably think he's thinks he's indebted to them for rescuing them and giving the 3 of them a better and new life. But quickly they realize bro is in love. Of course poppy teases him about it too at some point lol. He doesn't really try to hide it either. I can see poppy and kissy thinking it's sweet and first then they get annoyed once you're the only thing he talk about lol.

- You're married. That's all! No but I can see in his mind you two are basically married. He'd probably want to have new custom star collars made for both of you or maybe even a ring for you and a matching collar or something for him to wear and propose. Of course it will bother him a bit because he can't go out with you, take you on dates or show you off but he trusts you (even though he gets jealous when you smell like someone else) he basically tries his best with what you guys have (If only there was a holiday that came once a year where you guys could go out dressed in customs without looking like freaks).

- He looks like the type of guy who would love pasta. I'm not sure why or how this even came into mind but I just feel like that's what he often wants for dinner. Poppy would probably eat fruit for dinner, kissy isn't really picky, but Dogday would probably be asking for either pasta or meat. Also I think Angel would be hesitant to feed certain foods to Dogday because you know, he's a dog (not really but hear me out) but because he acts like one at times I could see Angel being like haha nope you can't eat this!

*Angel eating chocolate cookies*

"May I have some?" *cutely pouts*

"I don't want you dying, love."

"You know I'm not actually a dog...right?"

ok ok you got me there" (they just really didn't wanna share lol)

- tbh this is more of a general head canon for the toys but I seeing as they had to resort to c*nnibalism. They clearly need food and water to survive. I think catcap was probably keep Dogday alive as a "lol now look at you now, look at me" (yes that's a BP reference) moment but only feeds him when he felt like it, since food is basically scarce in that place. I think that their human organs were transferred over but little things like veins, teeth, tongue, blood vessels basically anything that's not a major organ was made artificially and connected in a sense to those major organs making them function as such.

Yeah that's kinda it lol, there might be some more parts to this if I can think of anything else! But yeahhh that's kinda my hc and rambles lol (I tend to ramble a lot especially when I have to give context, I apologize!)

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Okay, so I'm not a Poppy Playtime fan by any means, I only know what is presented in the games, I don't know any of the hidden lore stuff or whtv. I thought the last two chapters were cool but severely lacking but man, Chapter 3 went legitimately hard. Particularly in the topic of today's discussion:

The Hour of Joy

It was pretty clear in the previous chapters that all the coworkers were dead but this one finally shows it and oh man was I hyped.

Throughout the chapter we get teasers to what happened, and I just tossed it all out cause I thought it was just generic horror stuff. Like the hallucination bit with the screaming in the lobby. I didn't bat an eye and just forgot about it till the end. But after watching another playthrough I was like "oh shit" and actually physically sat up in interest.

And then there's the VHS. Everything about that presentation was so cool to me. Firstly, we have the footage itself, which presents a terrifying tale. These random workers just going about another day at the factory. Standing around, talking with one another, all near what they presume to merely be a statue. And the unimaginable occurs. This statue, the same one they've walked past a thousand times pounces on one of the workers, tearing him apart in an instant before setting its sight on the rest. And he had it lucky.

Everybody begins to flee, screaming, begging, questioning. "What was that?" "What's happening?" And then long pink arms dart from the ceiling and pluck them from the ground. More toys converge on them, on workers deeper in the facility who don't even know what is happening. One particular man is converged upon by dozens of the teachers to meet god-knows-what fate.

And then we have Poppy's story. How she heard it all from the case. Could hear them scream, plead, and die. Her voice shaking, on the verge of tears even describing it. "It went on for so long. So, so horribly long." And the name in it of itself. "The Hour of Joy". A chilling title that really lets you know the toys' thoughts on the event.

TL;DR: Mob Entertainment, you did good on this one.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I thought for sure that this was a converted store or factory, but all the description says is that it was built in 2010 in Rochester, NY. (If you're a '90 Day' fan, the home town of Ashely & Manuel.) It's huge, and only has 2bds, but 7ba. They're asking $3.4M. Come on, in.

TBH, I think it's pretty spectacular, but I wish these mansions would come furnished.

What a kitchen. I love the island! This is a commercial grade kitchen, so it's got everything a professional chef would need. Look at the exhaust hood- that's so extra.

Butler's pantry with a ladder.

TV room. The architectural details make this home special. For instance, they could've just made this room square, no brick wall, plain ceiling, etc.

A private outdoor terrace. Very nice.

Looking down from the terrace level to an inner court.

This is very nice. Very private outdoor space.

From the court, step inside and there's a bar right there.

Plus, a game room. What an amazing place to entertain.

There's even an art gallery.

Down these stairs, pass by a lovely fireplace wall.

They paid a lot of attention to detail- look at the finial on the stair post.

There are so many levels.

And, lots of sitting areas to choose from.

I guess they would consider the kitchen up here a kitchenette, but for the rest of us, it's a full kitchen.

Finally, we reach the spacious primary bedroom.

The en-suite has a soaker tub in front of a large fireplace.

And, of course, there's a walk-in closet/dressing room.

Up on the roof, there's an entire outdoor kitchen, covered, and also equipped with a sitting area plus a fireplace.

The outdoor portion of the rooftop.

There's also a lounge with a bar and a window to the deck.

Looks like they don't even use the 2nd bedroom. I think that this home, with it's multiple rooms and levels, can surely provide space for at least another bedroom, if needed.

Since there are 7 baths, this room would have its own en-suite.

Amazing artsy home.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/234-East-Ave-Rochester-NY-14604/103743837_zpid/

[bluejaysandblackbats]

A Stone's Throw

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: The night Jason wakes up in the convalescent home, he's accompanied by his favorite nurse (Nurse Kathy). Nurse Kathy follows her instincts and decides to foster him in the nearby city of Blüdhaven. Soon, her partner and roommates become Jason's new family despite hopes that he'll regain his memories.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Original Characters, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon

Additional Tags: Disabled Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Doesn't Know Jason Todd is Alive, Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Jason Todd Has a Foster Family AU, Jason Todd Moves to Blüdhaven, Original Asexual Characters, Original Lesbian Characters, Amnesiac Jason Todd, "Missed Him By That Much" Trope, Hurt/Comfort, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Two: To Blüdhaven

Boxes piled high by the front door of Kathy’s apartment usually would’ve made her sad, but these boxes signaled a warmer beginning and not an end. She tightened her scarf as she dusted the mantle and ceiling fan, standing on a stepping stool to complete her task. “You’re in good spirits this morning,” her male roommate smiled. He kissed her cheek and sat at the piano, warming up before playing Raindrops by Clifford Borg. “Moving day is upon us!”

Kathy grinned and stepped down. “Daniel, I made lunch for the movers… Do you think that’s a bit much?” Kathy questioned. 

“Oh no… Everyone makes paper bag lunches for movers,” Daniel teased her. She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re a doll, Katherine. They’ll love it. You make the most beautiful lunches. If only you’d do it for yourself. What’s on your mind, Mummy?” 

“I won’t be his mother… He probably has a mother out there somewhere,” Kathy mumbled. Daniel walked over and wrapped his arms around her. 

“You’ll be his mother in the meantime… And who knows? He might choose you even after he remembers,” Daniel smiled, “How’s he been?” 

Kathy frowned, freeing herself from his comforting embrace to move boxes from the bedroom to the living room. “He’s always crying when I see him… And my supervisor isn’t there all the time to look out for him. I didn’t want to say anything because—.” 

“You didn’t want to think about it because we can’t speed up the moving date… Katherine… I’m sorry—.” 

“You didn’t know. The move to Blüdhaven should be a good thing, though. Shouldn’t it?” Kathy questioned. 

“You worry too much—.” 

“No, but what if he’s from Gotham and—. Maybe I’ll drive him out every weekend to take him on walks through the city,” said Kathy. Daniel took a large box from her, setting it aside. 

“The house in Blüdhaven is more accessible and much larger than anything we’d get here,” Daniel replied, “And Gotham isn’t the safest place for a kid like him. Blüdhaven isn’t much safer, but hey… Maybe the schools are better.” 

“School! Oh, god, Daniel… I have a meeting with his school tomorrow—.” 

“You rescheduled for Monday… Remember?” Daniel whispered. Kathy relaxed, pressing her forehead into Daniel’s shoulder. 

“Daniel, has anyone ever told you how important you are?” Kathy asked.

“Only from you, which means Lover and I have to talk,” Daniel half-joked. Kathy’s nose crinkled as she closed-eye smiled at him. Daniel kissed her cheek. They lugged the remaining boxes to the truck, and Daniel opened the car door for her. 

“I’m so nervous. Are you nervous?” Kathy questioned. 

Daniel gestured for Kathy to calm down, taking two hands with his palms facing down the length of his chest. “Breathe, Katherine. It’ll be alright soon. Once he’s with us, you’ll be fine. You’ve been that way since we were children,” Daniel questioned. The sun peeked through the clouds as a gust of wind blew past, rustling through the trees. The sky looked yellowish grey, painted by the smoke of the nearby factory. 

“I won’t miss the sulfur smell. I know that,” Daniel whispered. Kathy chuckled and nodded, trying to mask the persisting anxiety that buzzed beneath her skin. She slipped her shaking hands under her legs. “It’ll be nice to have a little fellow around.”

“He’s not so little anymore. I don’t think he’s realized that yet. A lot of time passed while he was comatose. He’s getting his balance back. His glasses have helped a lot,” Kathy replied. 

Daniel glanced at her as he followed the moving truck. Daniel popped a CD in and drummed on the dashboard. “Dodie called last night. I think he’s ready to talk about everything,” Daniel whispered. Kathy tensed. 

“Did we mess up, Daniel?” Kathy asked. 

“No, I think we were good parents… But—. I think it’ll take a while for it to sink in that we lied to protect him. This is a long drive, Katherine… You should call him. Let’s talk to him,” Daniel replied. Kathy nodded and frowned. “Together.” 

Kathy dialed the number, and let it ring twice before Dodie answered. “Hi, Ma,” Dodie mumbled. 

“Are you busy Dodie? I—. Dodie, I’m sorry, honey,” Kathy apologized. 

“Ma, I was mad at both of—. Is Dad there?” Dodie questioned. 

“I’m here, Dodie. Hi, Kiddo,” Daniel answered. 

“Good… Because I kinda owe you guys an apology. I know coming out to me was a big deal. I just—. No matter what was going on, you guys always put me first. I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for either of you. I guess I was upset because I felt like I never got the real Mom and Dad. I don’t know. I—. We all would’ve been different if you guys told me earlier. 

“Maybe—. I—. There’s so much I don’t know. How did I even—? I don’t—. Do I even want to know?” Dodie asked. 

“We were young, and we were curious. We realized almost immediately afterward that we’d mistaken our friendship for romance. We tried to move on, and we decided to keep pretending to be a couple. It seemed easier than coming out… And—.” 

“I told Daniel I was pregnant. We knew what we wanted to do. There was no question. We knew we’d love you… And to this day, you’re a testament to our friendship and how much we do love each other. Nothing has to change, Dodie,” Kathy added. 

“Well… Everything is a little different. Aren’t you guys dating people now?” Dodie questioned. 

“Well… Yes,” Daniel answered. 

“I want to meet them,” Dodie sternly replied. 

“Okay… Well, Walter’s in Blüdhaven. We won’t be there for a few hours but the house is pretty close to yours,” Daniel announced, “If you stop by and tell him who you are, he’ll let you in. I don’t when Sibyl—. Katherine, honey, when is Sibyl coming?”

“Oh… Um, she’s coming tonight. She’s done all the grocery shopping, so I’ll be able to make dinner. Oh! Dodie, sweetheart, can you stay for dinner?” Kathy replied. Dodie made a soft noise. “Dinner. Let’s do dinner. It’ll be good. We can all—. We can talk. You know about the little guy from the hospital? He’s coming home soon.”

“I’ll stay for dinner, Ma. I can’t stay over because I have work tomorrow morning, but I’d—. I’d like that… And I can take the day off with you to pick up the kid if you want me to,” Dodie offered. 

Daniel tapped her arm and nodded. “Oh, Dodie, that’s so sweet. I’d love that. I’m picking him up on Sunday. Can you do Sunday?” Kathy asked. 

“I can do Sunday. And Ma? Dad? I love you no matter what. You’re my parents, and I can’t stay mad at either of you. I want you to be happy if that counts for anything. I’m sorry I blew up when you guys came out,” Dodie apologized. 

“We—.”

“We—.” Kathy laughed and touched Daniel’s arm. 

“We love you, Dodie,” Daniel grinned. Kathy made a soft noise. She unwrapped a sandwich in her lunch box and held it up to Daniel’s mouth. He took a bite. Their intimacies outlasted their sham relationship. Things that were once pretend persisted as a declaration of love transcendent of romance while devoid of attraction. Their intimacy was platonic and unending.

[savage-rhi]

Request for a drabble where Heisenberg captures a hunter who has been hired to kill him but he decides to toy with her to break her spirit. When he is finished breaking her down he finds himself drawn to her and decides to make her his

@omgcoffee-and-murder Hey hon! This may not be in the direction we spoke of way back when (I forgot most of the convo my apologies), but I hope you like it!

Karl leaned against the cold wall of his shop, watching the captured hunter weakly struggle against her bindings. To say he was beyond pissed was an understatement as he chewed on the end of his cigar and debated his next move.

For days, he had turned his wannabe assassin into a near lifeless version of herself. He deprived her of sleep, tormented her with the metallic cacophony of his factory, and even broke a few limbs with both tools and his powers. Yet despite the suffering he inflicted upon her, she refused to die. Something in her was stubborn enough to endure---to endure him---and Heisenberg grew both frustrated and intrigued.

Like a wolf smelling fresh blood, temptation tugged at the back of his psyche as he made direct eye contact with her. Her black eye greeted him with a shaken ferocity as she pathetically tugged against one of the heavy chains securing her dangling body to the ceiling. That little gimmick of hers itched a scratch Karl hadn't acknowledged until now, and he lurked on the feeling. How it stirred him awake in a way he hadn't felt in years.

He twirled a knife between his fingers and let out a strong sigh through his nostrils before approaching the woman, his breath fanning one of her bloodied ears after tossing his cigar to the floor.

"I know Alcina put you up to this, and I think I've had my fun," Karl's tone dipped with a silent rage that visibly sent a shiver down the poor girl's spine. He slowly circled around her until he was mere inches from her face, watching beads of sweat trickle down her bloodied flesh with a certain reverence. "I've decided you're not going to die right now."

"W-what are you...saying?" The girl choked between breaths, barely able to gasp much less form a coherent thought. She whimpered as Karl smirked and yanked the chain above her arms, pulling her even closer to him. She could smell grime emitting from his skin and weakly grimaced.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Karl mused, canting his head. "You're no longer Alcina's little errand toy. You're mine."

"W-why?"

Karl's fierce expression softened into something almost tender as he grasped her chin and quietly examined her features beyond the bruises and marks.

"Because I want you. Isn't that generous?"

The hunter swallowed hard as the weight of his words sank in. She knew she was trapped, but there was a strange allure in his offer from the very hands that had put her through misery. As Heisenberg’s fingers traced her jawline, she closed her eyes. Not accepting her fate in full, but submitting to whatever he intended to impose. She prayed for a quick death afterward.

In that moment, Karl smiled. Oh yes. He would mold her---shape her into something extraordinary, but not as a Soldat or another one of his run-of-the-mill experiments. No. He had something far more delicious up his sleeve.

As the triumph left him, he felt strangely territorial upon seeing a signature bite of Alcina's on the hunter's collarbone.

"You really let yourself become the tall bitch's blood bag?"

"I...it's not..."

The gentle look on his face morphed into something monstrous. As rage pooled in his chest, his mouth enlarged--displaying sharp teeth and big canines. He harshly bit down into the hunters flesh, thrashing as he tore her skin, and the woman screamed until her lungs were near dry.

For what felt like an eternity, Karl finally let go of her skin with a bloody pop. In between the hunters tears and shallow breath, he admired how his bite outdid his siblings little crunch. His eyes met her gaze while he growled.

"There. Nothing like a clean slate!"

The softness from before returned and Karl pressed his lips to hers, forcing the hunter to taste the warmth of his lips and her own fluids. The pained moan she let out made him grunt in return as he pulled back to admire the bloody imprint he left on both throat and mouth.

"Today's your lucky fucking day! Let's get you cleaned up." He unclipped her from the ceiling chains, watching as she fell to the ground like a lifeless doll, and crouched down to pick her up, swinging her body over his right shoulder.

As Karl carried her like a trophy of a fresh kill, he felt a thrill of anticipation. He had captured more than just a drone of Alcina's---he had found a kindred spirit. Something broken that he could tinker with and make new again in an image he'd finally have control of. Something that was his that he had taken from Alcina and she could never get back.

He'd have his revenge.

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[cattimeswithjellie]

Livestream Recap, TangoTek, 6-17-24

((In which Tango does redstone, makes a lot of steamy puns, and plays straight man to the comedy stylings of Mrs. T and his own chat. Also there is Twag.))

4:43 Tango opens the stream with a warning for “excessive burping.” He just gulped down a burger as he hit “start stream” with eruptive results. He thanks subs and donos, then asks Chat how they are doing. He decides to chop down a bunch of acacia trees while he talks with Chat about what everyone’s been up to. He did not play much block game last week, but this week? So much. Last week was bad, but this week is going to be better!

6:30 A chatter mentions Jimmy’s current obsession with Tango’s swag (or “Twag”). Tango is aware of it, he is amused and baffled. He says he has very little twag. But Jimmy is great and Tango loves hanging out with him. They need to find a new game to play together.

7:10 Tango starts to talk about the stream and how it’s going to be STEAMY today, gets immediately distracted by a large dono. Another chatter talks about Jimmy and how he is mad at Impulse for calling him 30. Tango thinks that’s funny too. Jimmy’s just a pup, and 30 is not an insult. Mrs. T streamed yesterday, everyone should encourage her! PearlescentMoon raids into the stream. Tango is very proud of Pearl’s new redstone endeavors! In chat, Cleo reminds Pearl that main quests should not be done all at once, it’s time to make room for side quests. They both plan on side-questing with games in the Gaming District.

10:00 Back to the title! Pearl and Impulse have done redstone all day, it’s time to get Redstone in this stream! All the grates are going to have steam coming out from them now! Chat asks about playing Wordle, Tango suspects that the game is currently being messed with and may not be playable. Chat says it’s ready. Tango explains his plan for campfire-fueled steam grates in the factory. Pearl tells Tango he can play if Chat doesn’t spoil him. Chat is sad that “Twag” is not a five-letter word.

13:00 Impulse raids into the chat, so now the Chat is doubly full of all the server’s redstone fans. Chat tells Tango that Impulse did redstone _and_ science today. Tango assembles a box of supplies for today’s job. The factory is not turned on, but it might be good to turn it on since Tango will be hanging around. He’s nervous to turn it on and that’s not good. He talks about Trial Chambers coming up and how he might not actually have needed to make a copper farm. Trial chambers are full of copper and tuff and good things. He talks with Chat about the ins and outs of trial chambers. In the background, a Skizz scream indicates the end of another zombie pigman.

18:15 Tango believes copper needs to become a more integral part of redstone, far beyond copper bulbs. Maybe even plumbing for fluids, though that would be a big step. He heads down into the guts below the factory. Chat thinks Tango is aiming for Create Mod in Vanilla, Tango shushes them and whispers “that’s the goal.” Tango has a new design for steam grates, so he’s going to rip out the one he’s got and dig out a bunch of space for new ones. Chat asks to see “The Hole” (the hole through the bedrock he and Zedaph made). It is now cleaned up and safely behind a door to avoid accidental Void entry. Tango did some off-stream ceiling building, but he needs more decoration on the walls.

20:40 Tango begins deconstructing his old redstone, then immediately stops doing that and goes upstairs to brainstorm steam grate locations with chat. Chat is full of fun and impractical ideas for decorations, and some good ideas as well. He digs some more. He is surprised and pleased to get beacon bonus to his digging.

23:50 Mrs Tango arrives. She made a salad. Chat is happy to see her! Her stream went well yesterday and her TBR (to be read) pile has doubled. Tango doesn’t know what TBR is and gets mocked for it. She force-feeds him some salad. He declares it “Ceasar-y?” It’s good. He would eat it. He will not eat it, because it is hers. Mrs. T asks if Chat wants to know what her favorite game is. Tango says it is so sad and cringe. She says it’s “How to Make My Husband Crazy.” He thought she meant the phone game she plays 50 hours a week, which is called Gossip Harbor. Chat likes both of those games too.

26:00 A little cheatycam action tells Tango that he has less room than he’d hoped without destroying his already-existing redstone. Mrs. T offers helpful commentary as he falls into an underground lake. Tango says someone should open a sponge shop (he has the sponge permit.) Mrs Tango tells him he has “Skibidi Ohio Rizz.” Tango looks like he is forcing himself into an out-of-body experience. Chat is howling. Tango says Mrs. T is highly resistant to the Twag. A chatter asks what Twag means, and Tango says if you know, you know (and if you don’t know, you’re not missing much.) Chat is happy to explain Twag.

29:00 Tango continues excavating and says that anyone who truly wants to understand Twag has to watch Jimmy Jingles’ stream. He doesn’t know why they call him Timmy. Tango doesn’t call him Timmy. Tango finally finds a part of his basement that is not already stuffed with redstone. He is happy. He flexes by throwing all his mined stone right into the guts of the collection system.

31:10 Tango discovers a single lit copper bulb in the floor and can’t remember why it is there. He examines it and says he has to know. He digs up the floor around it. It is just one lit copper bulb in the floor. He is confused, but chat remembers that it was for lighting the water pool, back when this was a water pool. Tango thinks about decorating the area, but admits he will never come down here.

32:30 Time to actually start building some steam machines! Tango gathers up the bits he needs and notices there are lots of people on the server today. It makes him happy. Chat is excited because some of their Tango plushes are starting to arrive. They want to know if Tango will play Wordle. He might, later. Right now it is time to turn on the factory! He does so, while cheering about how copper bulbs are amazing. Another piglin dies with a scream. Tango complains about static electricity in his office. Chat suggests grounding his chair. He asks how to do that, Chat suggests calming words and slow breaths, either that or taking away its electronics and not letting it leave the house.

38:00 After one false start for forgotten campfires, it’s time to head back downstairs! Tango doesn’t know when HC will update to 1.21 but they will probably talk about it at the next meeting. He has a little screenshot of the design he’s working with for the steam grates. He talks with Chat about the problem he’s having with the factory needing 90 seconds to cool down from “on” to “off” without breaking it. He’s going to have to work on that. Tango lost his redstone box.

41:40 Time to find the redstone box! Chat tried to remind him he left it upstairs, but he was oblivious. He collects it and back downstairs! He talks about grate design with chat. He doesn’t like open grates, but both water and magma underneath have their virtues. They both look pretty cool.

45:00 Tango says he’s going to get started doing something. The “Oh my god!” horn plays. Gem must be nearby! Tango calls out for her, but she does not make an appearance. Tango begins laying out the first set of grate redstone. The horns have a radius large enough that Gem could be “oh my god”ing at someone else. But her timing was excellent.

47:00 Tango builds a redstone machine! It looks cool. He promises he will explain it when he is done. Chat asks if this is the new clank module. Tango says last night in bed he was thinking about the Decked Out 2 redstone and how much of it was still in his head. He misses it, and is getting a little itchy for a new redstone project. But there will be NO Decked Out 3 this season.

50:00 Chat asks “Decked Out 3 Season 11 confirmed?” Tango says it’s pretty much already been confirmed, but we’ll see. He goes up top to get buckets and flint and steal, realizes he’s going to need a lot of flint eventually. He checks on the factory minecarts, all is well. Tango loads up the new machine he has made, showing how it will alternately light or extinguish the fire to make randomized bursts of steam through the grate. He makes a much more comprehensive explanation that is beyond the ken of the recapper, but the upshot is that it works and is going to take a ton of flint and steel.

55:30 Chat attempts to help optimize the machine, possibly by replacing flint and steel with fire charges. Each flint will light the fire 64 times, each stack of fire charges will do the same. The big efficiency in this case is that fire charges can be stolen from Impulse, which is much more Tango-efficient than laying down a bunch of gravel and hitting it with a fortune shovel.

58:00 With the visual effect working, it’s time for the audio. Tango has some sound files that sound like hissing steam, so it’s time to add a note block to the machine as well. He attaches it to the side of the new steam machine and considers the best sort of head to pop on it. In game chat, Pearl makes a suggestion about the redstone clock that might extend the time between puffs. Tango is confused for a minute about the complexities of Pearlstone, but they get on the same page and talk more redstone. Chat is a big fan of Pearlstone. Tango decides to use pillager heads. Chat suggests that maybe Pearl will help build Decked Out 3. Tango agrees that at the rate she is picking up redstone, she well might!

1:02:00 Tango and Chat do redstone stuff. Lighting the fire with fire charges is just a bit different than lighting it with flint and steel, but he gets it sorted. He uploads the sound file he wants and puts it on a pillager head, then waits. Chat fondly remembers that time they Rickrolled Tango by getting ahead of him on sound file uploading.

1:05:40 The machine triggers successfully. Tango workshops the sound with chat, then goes to “acquire” some fire charges. Chat reminds him to turn off the factory before he leaves. Tango is definitely going to put in some chunk loaders so he doesn’t have to hang around his factory and not play the game he wants. Chat reminds him that a certain Chat who shall remain nameless may have mentioned chunk loaders quite awhile ago and been ignored. They suggest TNT dupers will be next. Tango is firm in his NOPE.

1:10:06 With the farm fully off, Tango is free to move about the server. Time to steal! He dips into the nether and heads for Impulse’s barter farm. He and Chat continue discussing chunk loaders. Chat asks which will get a roof first, Tango’s factory or Etho’s base. Tango is noncommittal. The barter farm is bursting at the seams with fire charges, so it’s Tango’s lucky day. He fills up his shulkers with stacks of fire charges and realizes he should’ve brought more shulkers. He’ll have to steal more later. Tango heads home.

1:13:20 Back at home, Tango attempts (unsuccessfully) to organize his inventory, then goes back downstairs. He loads his steam machine with fire charges. The machine catches on fire. That could be a problem. Chat notes that fire tick is off, and so the fire charge will not actually light the campfire, it will just set a fire on the hopper. Tango watches the machine for one more go-round, just to make sure. Scar, in Twitch Chat, suggests that they should turn fire tick on. Chat thinks this is a wonderful and horrible idea.

1:20:00 Tango rebuilds the machine, but it doesn’t work. In game chat, Pearl celebrates getting Timed Mode working on Wordle. The redstoners celebrate with her. Tango moves a bunch more stuff around on the machine and makes plans to unsteal the fire charges later.

1:22:00 Tango disassembles the machine and reassembles it into the original flint-and-steel-dispenser configuration, declaring all the previous “a huge waste of time.” Chat maintains that nothing is a waste of time when he’s with Chat. Also there was science. Now Tango needs a lot of flint and steel.

1:25:30 Tango goes back upstairs. He doesn’t have a fortune shovel, so he has to turn off the factory again and go shopping. Chat points out that Scar sells gravel, but Tango needs flint. Nobody sells flint. Tango is getting frustrated, but gets clobbered by a thousand dollar dono and a simultaneous Mythical Sausage raid. Chat is so excited.

1:29:50 Tango reads the very nice message from the dono, while Scar flies around in the background and sprinkles flint all over his factory floor. Tango’s day has really turned around! Scar says “Watch this” in chat, which is possibly the scariest possible thing Scar could say, then does not successfully do whatever he planned to do. He says “ppop” and leaves.

1:32:20 Tango is confused but thanks Scar for the flint. He welcomes the raiders properly, thanks Sausage for the raid and explains that they came at an awkward brain-breaky moment for him. He introduces himself and says he’s getting steamy today. Sausage’s raider tell Tango that Ollie died in 30 Day Hardcore, got creepered only three days in. Tango is sympathetic. Chat finds it hard to believe that Jimmy didn’t die first.

1:35:00 Scar’s gift of flint lets Tango load the machine, now it’s time to watch the grate from above and see what it looks like. While he is waiting, Chat tells him the tragic story of Ollie’s demise, killed by a creeper by building a house for himself and Jimmy. It was so sad. “Noooo!” Tango cries. He thinks Creepers have to be one of the major causes of death in Hardcore, next to lava and falling. The steam effect triggers. The steam goes much longer than the sound, so either more sound or less steam is needed. Longer steam sounds are a project for another day, but this is close enough. It took only ninety minutes to make one, time to make more!

1:37:00 Tango chooses the location for the next steam vent. He then goes back to messing with the first machine. A chatter asks if Tango is family friendly. He says he is. Chat converses among itself about whether all the hermits are family friendly while Tango watches the machine for his timing change. It looks better, he is happy. He assembles another machine.

1:40:00 Tango has lost his armor stands, which makes it hard to assemble the machine. Chat points out that they are in the redstone box. A chatter suggests making one machine play the Skizz Scream instead of the steam noise so the factory seems more dangerous. Assembly of the second machine goes considerably faster than the first. Chat, sensitized by Ollie’s death, keeps getting jumpscared by the hissing steam noises. A chatter asks about capes, a mere 20 days late to the party.

1:44:00 FalseSymmetry enters the server, Cleo “OMG Hiiiii!”s her in chat. Tango finishes the second machine and loads it with flint-steel and water. Chat is laughing because someone got autocorrected to “armpit stand” Tango adds his audio player and uploads the second steam noise. The second machine tests successfully, so it’s time for more!

1:48:00 The crowded substrate of Tango’s basement makes a challenging redstone environment, but he eventually picks out a space for the third machine. He’s getting into a groove now as far as building copies of the machine. He stumbles into a little passageway and is confused for a minute, but it’s nothing he’s using anymore. Chat strongly suspects that Tango’s third machine is going to do some things to the trapdoors it is next to, but they don’t want to spoil the surprise.

1:51:30 Tango finishes the redstone of Machine 3 and adds the finishing touches. He breaks his redstone box and doesn’t successfully pick it up at first, then proclaims that is how one loses a redstone box. He uploads the third steamy sound and puts it on Machine 3. He wants to build three more machines on the other side of the factory floor.

1:53:00 Tango wants to do something different with Machine 4. It is next to another, different redstone device and can be activated by that redstone signal instead. He plays with the positioning of the campfire and the restone signal. He collects up some magma blocks to decorate with and declares his music “very eighties.”

1:58:00 Tango solidifies the location for Machine 4. He assembles Machine 4 partway, then pauses, not sure if it will work with so much other redstone around. Deciding on a strategy of bold adventure, he does it anyway. The resulting trigger mechanism is made mostly of observers and optimism, but Tango is pleased. He does more redstone tinkering, including running some signal through a magma block.

2:03:30 Machine four is done! A chatter asks if Tango got help from Mumbo for this design. Tango confirms that Mumbo actually does all Tango’s redstone for him. He also talks to Mumbo all the time, definitely. Tango admits that he talks directly to Mumbo once or twice a year. They like each other, but their paths simply never cross. Chat would like to see Tango and Mumbo do a big project together.

2:05:00 Tango realizes that Machine 4 takes up a lot of real estate he was going to use for Machine 5, but he thinks he can make it work anyway. He does more redstone! Chat is concerned that he has disconnected a minecart trigger. Chat also wants Tango to visit Big Ron’s. Tango doesn’t know what Big Ron’s is. ((Big Ron’s is one of the pretend shops in Mumbo’s base. It has been temporarily taken over by Grian and Gem’s mischievous snails as a pop-up shop to sell the diamond ore they stole from Scar’s Ore Mountain.)) Chat tries to explain, but they are very confusing. Tango is not caught up on server storylines enough to understand snail adventures.

2:08:00 Redstone work continues. Tango realizes he can’t do the thing with the thing there because of that, which is a verbatim quote for once and not the recapper’s lack of comprehension. Tango mentions placing a torchy down, making Chat nostalgic for Secret Life Torchy. Tango agrees that for one episode, Torchy was a legend. He finesses the design of the machine to make it fit better , then installs the noteblock and Machine 5 is done.

2:11:00 Tango finds a location for the last steam machine. He begin assembling Machine 6 while Chat amuses itself with dispenser puns and by mocking Tango. The last machine gets built very quickly. Tango listens to the steam noteblock sound and comments that when he makes Plate Up in Minecraft, that will be the food burning sound. He confirms that he will be trying to create Plate Up in Minecraft, or something similar at least. Chat thinks this is very twag of him.

2:15:10 Cleo raids into the stream. Tango misses Cleo and says they are the best Cleo ever to Cleo. They need to hang out sometime. Cleo’s chat is full of OMG Hiiii energy. The OMG Hiiii horn starts playing, which means False is probably nearby. Tango is so confused. Chat says it was a False Alarm. Tango sighs but has to admit that was pretty good.

2:18:00 Tango goes upstairs and gets all the last odds and ends he needs to load the farms, including a whole lot of flint and steel and a bunch of water buckets. He loads up the machines and gets them working. Chat asks if the water kittens are asleep, Tango says that the water kittens are stupid. He loads water buckets into the machines, then creates a bunch of flint and steels to load in as well. Chat warns Tango about a impending water leak issue, but Tango is doing math. He finishes doing math and fixes the block three seconds before the bucket deploys. Everything’s fiiiiiine.

2:23:00 Tango continues loading the machines, temporarily foiling himself with a magma block but recovering and stuffing the machine with firestarters. There is room for more flint and steel in the machines, but for now the amount he’s putting in will do. A chatter wishes for magma slabs, Tango agrees that it would be nice if there were slabs for pretty much every block in the game. Chat suggests TNT slabs, then reminds itself that those are called Etho Slabs. ((An actual “canon” block, from a Minecraft April Fool’s joke.))

2:26:30 Time to go look at all the steam! The machines do successfully produce steam. Tango wants more steam! But the radius of the sound is all wrong and he can’t hear steam across the room. He goes back into the machine and fixes all the sound-producing heads so the radius is more sensible.

2:30:00 Steam observation time. Tango and the chat like the new steam effects. He watches the room for awhile to see if one is not smoking and to see how often they smoke. He’d actually like a little more steam, more often. Machines 4 and 2 are being stubborn. Chat points out again that Tango broke the minecart activator on Machine 4 ages ago. 2 is a mystery. Eventually 2 and 4 both do run, drawing a cheer from Tango. He is very happy with the aesthetic of his factory floor.

2:35:00 Tango talks about future plans for decorating the factory. He loves doing redstone décor and ambiance work. Chat also likes the ambiance, though opinions are somewhat divided over all the steam noise. A chatter sends a message talking about their soft robotics project, Tango is curious what that means. Chat has lots of theories.

2:37:50 Tango calls the project done for now, he is happy. Chat is surprised to see Mumbo join the game. Tango teases him about the sign at the gold shop. Mumbo despairs that he is out of stock AGAIN. Grian wants to know who needs that much gold. Tango needs gold for powered rails. Tango’s next episode will be opening the shroomlight shop and building Fun Gus the monster, or building the steampunk blimp that will be the shell around the copper farm. Then there will be factory-building work. The guts of the factory are done, but it needs its building and lots of cool sound art to bring it to life. The factory will be an amazing and noisy place.

2:41:50 Tango decides to wrap up the stream. He is happy with the steam system even if it took longer than planned. No Wordle today, but he has all week to play that. Chat is not allowed to spoil the word! Tango raids into Fwhip and ends his stream.

[springhillspeedyelectrician]

[inkformyblood]

i lose all (but not him) #2 CWW2023

Codywan, slowburn, canon-verse with some divergence @codywanweek Prompt: Tea, Caf and Flimsiwork (Day 6) Ao3 link here

The war is, perhaps, the easiest part of Cody’s job.

And he is Cody now, truly and properly, no longer having to tuck the name he has chosen for himself in the hidden compartment of his vambrace along with a scrap of dark fabric stiff with dried blood and a nearly full tube of paint used to mark the corridors bolted on Kamino. He would tap his fingers against it now to reassure himself that it is still closed and he hasn’t wandered away from the quartermaster with the equivalent of his spine hollowed out and exposed, but his arms are currently full. The training simulations had never covered the intricacies of carrying Jedi robes (slippery), a packet of tea (it kept crinkling) and a datapad (liable to be classed as a projectile). Obi-Wan’s lightsaber is the least worrying thing on Cody’s tray at that moment. 

The lightsaber bumps against his leg as he walks, holding onto his belt through a combination of emergency tape, which is quickly becoming routine tape, and sheer willpower. 

Cody doesn’t think about it.

He can’t stop thinking about it.

Cody pauses, feeling the sharp stab of tension between his shoulder blades, and presses his shoulder against the metal wall to try and alleviate the pressure from his armour. They were all based on the same template so their armour is similarly fashioned and shipped out from four clone-manned facilities on various satellite stations tucked on the wrong sides of planets orbits, and then two others that Cody technically doesn’t know about.

Query: order status?

Answer: on track for fulfilment in two weeks.

In the factories, Cody wonders, are they lonely? He had seen one of the factory squads from a distance, noted the perpetual stoop to their shoulders from the ceilings built to be manned by droids three-quarters of their height, the easy way they pitched into each other as if their shoulders had been made to be held instead of holding. Fox had been standing next to him, his helmet resting on his hip, fanning at the fresh paint with one hand to try and stop it from smearing. They had been so close but the act of reaching out, of leaning his head against Fox’s shoulder, was impossible. It hadn’t ever been meant for them.

His fingers ache as if he’s cold, trapped inside the treated fabric of his gloves. It doesn’t rustle when he moves like the earlier versions, but Cody finds himself missing the sound. Everything rings hollow inside the maw of a spaceship in a way Kamino never had.

(He is tired.)

First, he needs to return Obi-Wan’s possessions to him. It isn’t a strict part of his role as if he follows the chain of command as it is laid out in Form 44.949 which had only gone into effect a week after their deployment — and that is its own issue that Cody can’t dwell on, can only cut his teeth into fresh points arguing about it. According to the protocol, Cody should give the items to a lower-ranked shiny and direct him to return them to Obi-Wan, with no contact necessary. But he wants to. And he can. 

Cody presses his shoulder further against the wall, scraping the plastoid against metal. It still doesn’t sit quite right, pinching at the joint where his altered patch had slipped over the past few hours of battle. He’d likely have a bruise there, an exploitable weakness, a crack for sunlight to spill through. 

Footsteps.

Cody is alert in an instant, not moving, barely breathing. Sound carries strangely in a starship, echoing off of the enclosed walls and carried by the pipes tucked just behind the thin plating. They had made use of it, knocking out messages against the exposed metal and waiting for a response with their hands pressed against the chill, waiting for the reverberations that meant an answer rather than the shivers that the temperature drop would bring. Everything is cold, all the time. 

He knows the sound of those footsteps specifically, the almost graceful dancelike quality to them despite the scuff of a heel used to brace more often than it is used for anything else. 

“Sir?” Cody calls and hears Obi-Wan’s footsteps pause and then continue, moving sideways with purpose rather than the careful creep sideways. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan answers, warmth brewed with every syllable of the name, meticulously flavoured and treasured because it is Cody’s. It is indescribable and it takes Cody’s breath away each and every time. He isn’t wearing his helmet to hide the sudden flush to his cheeks so, instead, he busies himself with tucking the trailing sleeve of Obi-Wan’s robe back into his hold. 

Obi-Wan looks battle-worn, his inner layer of robes scorched along one edge and it still carries with it the heady iron scent of the battlefield, blood and anticipation twined together until one cannot be parted from the other. There’s not going to be an end to this, there will always be another battle. But, Cody can help in the quiet moments in between. 

“I looked for you earlier, sir.” Cody doesn’t look at Obi-Wan fully, stealing glances out of the haze of his peripheral vision as he keeps his gaze fixed past Obi-Wan, boring through the hull into the void beyond. He can’t study the other man to the extent he would like, not like the first moments on Kamino or the rush after that, so he makes do with fragments. He doesn’t know why.

(We were made for them.)

Obi-Wan blinks, breaking into a grin. He’s slightly off balance, dignified despite that or maybe, because of it, a network of carefully applied bacta patches peeking out from beneath his sleeve. Cody should take him to see a medic. He’s within his training to do so. 

“My apologies, Cody.” Obi-Wan bows slightly, his grin never wavering and only growing fonder, building upon a well-worn foundation. “I was just on my way back to my room. Would you like to join me?”

A thrill flickers up Cody’s spine and he thinks of the simulations, of information burning into his neutron pathways and rearranging him from the inside out until he cannot remember who he had been before, only what he had always been. Obi-Wan’s invitations feel similar and, at the same time, like nothing Cody has experienced before. It’s a choice he wants to make just because he can.

“I’d appreciate that, sir.”

“Here, let me.” Obi-Wan’s voice isn’t aligned with his mouth, the sound arriving a handful of seconds before his mouth moves (three seconds exactly, the count inside Cody’s head still ticking down and down and down just as it has been all along). It’s still off-putting, a whisper of the universe leaning forward, head propped on their fists and an unknowable look in their eyes as if this is a test Cody is undertaking and he isn’t aware of the parameters just yet. He swallows against it and squares his shoulders. He isn’t about to kneel for anyone, universe or not.

“I can manage, sir.”

Obi-Wan is unperturbed, reaching for the bundle in Cody’s arms and plucking the hang of his robes free, folding them into his own arms with practised ease that spoke to years of habit. Cody knows the slant of shinies, limbs too long and decorated with bruises instead of paint, but it doesn’t seem to fit Obi-Wan correctly like he’s trying to pilot a command module with an engineering base. He must have been shorter at some point, bare-faced and delicate like the little Commander allocated to Rex’s squadron, but Cody can’t picture it. Obi-Wan’s fingers brush Cody’s, his skin warm and a little sticky from the bacta residue on his palm. There’s a ragged edge to one of his nails, the skin torn and protruding and something in Cody snaps into sharp relief, a knowing that he cannot explain. 

“There.” Obi-Wan smooths his hands over the robe once more and Cody keeps his gaze lowered, watching the other man out of the corner of his eye as he tucks the datapad under his arm and holds the roughly folded packet of tea on the same side. He straightens up, settling back into the easy position that feels like his bones have been reshaped to fit. His elbow bumps against Obi-Wan’s saber and he draws it free with his other hand, pulling the tape free.

It’s warm, clinging to the remnants of Obi-Wan’s touch, and still heavier than Cody expects, each and every time. “I believe this is yours, sir?”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan brightens, his smile rueful. There’s a faint flush of colour to his cheeks, more noticeable thanks to his pale complexion, and he covers it by smoothing his fingers over his robe once more. “You truly are a wonder, Cody. I knew my saber would be safe with you watching out for me.” 

Compliments had been few and far between on Kamino for the command track clones, limited to a dull glow of satisfaction at a posted score or an envious glance at their other brothers who could grin like it was easy because it was for them. Cody keeps his breathing even, hoping the flare of colour in his cheeks isn’t as noticeable as he feels it is despite the chill that permeates every inch of the ship. “I’m just doing my job, sir.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head slowly, reaching up to run his fingers over the side of his neck, his grip curling over something that is no longer there before he lowers his hand once more. When he speaks, his voice is heavy with a gravity that could tear a planet in two. “Even so, Cody, thank you.”

Obi-Wan takes his saber, his fingers brushing against Cody’s, his hold casual for a weapon that still gives Cody pause despite the number of times he has handled it. He spins it over his palm, a flash of darker calluses bisecting the base of his fingers and the pad of his thumb, a rough touch that Cody knows and he wishes he doesn’t and craves it all at once. 

(They were made for us.)

Cody nods, sharp enough to cut, his gaze lingering on the pale green cast of bacta over the gap at Obi-Wan’s wrist. The air hangs heavy, the fans above and below thrumming through a circulation cycle and the scent of iron clings to the back of Cody’s teeth. He wants to suggest that they continue forwards, down the corridor and around the corner that would open to the solid door that blockaded Obi-Wan’s rooms, but he can’t. It’s too close to an order, his mind too tired to work around the logic jumps that would let him justify it as a suggestion. He stands, silent, his breath catching on every ragged piece of the scars on his chest, his gaze fixed on a single distant point. 

Query: help

Answer: This is temporary. Wait for orders. 

Cody is a good soldier. He waits. 

“Shall we continue, my dear?” Obi-Wan says. There’s something about his voice that reminds Cody of the incubation rooms, cast in dull blue light and necessitating hushed voices just because. 

Cody nods, exhaustion adding several pounds to his armour as he waits for Obi-Wan to begin walking and he falls in place next to him. There’s an itch at the nape of his neck, a wisp of hair caught between the fabric of his blacks and his armour, and sweat pooling in the divots of his spine and beneath his arms. Over the rest of him, he can still feel the grit of the battlefield and he knows he will never be able to be free of it. Yet another thing that had never been covered in the simulations. 

Around them, the ship groans and settles into an evening cycle, the lights flickering to a darker hue and Cody glances up automatically, searching the ceiling for the tell-tale watchful eye of the security system. He wouldn’t see it, the cameras were something that he had left behind on Kamino and he had scrubbed over every inch of the ship’s systems and every single regulatory form searching for the equivalent that the Jedi would hold over them. He hadn’t found it but the fear is always there. He checks every so often, and he knows Fox does too. 

Settling back into an easy pace, Cody thinks over the recent battle, the developing report he is transcribing in his mind for it, the supply list for the ship, anything and everything to not think about the lingering warmth from Obi-Wan’s touch that still burns over the dull fabric of his gloves. He knows what Obi-Wan’s hands feel like on his bare skin and that is somehow worse. 

They draw to a halt, Cody stopping half a step behind Obi-Wan before he corrects himself, moving level. A small smile tugs at Obi-Wan’s mouth, fond in a quiet way, and he taps over the control panel to open the door and he steps inside. “Would you mind closing the door after you, Cody? I find there’s a certain chill that comes with the evening cycle.”

“Yes, sir.” 

It’s a choice to obey, the deliberate phrasing of not an order that Obi-Wan had fallen into whenever he speaks to the clones, the same way he would keep the world stable somehow with nothing more than a gentle word and a smile. Cody taps over the door control and it hisses closed behind him. 

Inside, Obi-Wan’s quarters are similar to Cody’s own, one room slightly larger than the standard plan outlined on the ship’s blueprints, the ceiling sloping down towards the bed hollowed out of one wall due to the swell of pipes and wires and Obi-Wan stoops slightly as he moves towards a set of hooks just above an alcove. Against the opposite wall, a desk sits, bolted into place and covered in a mess of datapads and flimsiwork roughly shuffled into piles and bound together with broad straps and a pulse of pain spikes behind Cody’s eyes in sympathy. His own desk looks similar, if more organised. He can’t not. Not yet.

Cody steps forward, watching Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye. His heartbeat is unsteady, a rattle in his chest making his teeth ache. He had told before that he doesn’t have to wait for Obi-Wan, that he can sit down when he wishes, but he can’t here and now. He needs an order. 

Obi-Wan keeps his head lowered as he reaches into the alcove, pausing only to throw his robes towards the bed. The angle isn’t right, meaning to land the robes on the edge of the bed, dooming them to pool into a crumpled unregulated mess. But it doesn’t. Because the mystical energy that governs the universe bends itself to Obi-Wan’s commands because it loves him — like Cody thinks he might, a choice he’s making for himself alone — and the robe folds itself neatly on the bed, one sleeve dangling free like it’s waiting to be held.

“Please sit, Cody.” Obi-Wan isn’t looking at him but Cody can feel the easy pressure of his gaze regardless. There’s almost a release, a switch flicking in his brain, and Cody gratefully sinks onto the single chair offset from the low table. His back is still straight, his elbows tucked into his side, and he holds the datapad and the tea on his lap, keeping it level. His back is to the curved corner, the brief scrap of wall between the desk and the door to the private fresher Obi-Wan is allocated. It makes sense, distance to stop familiarity, a layer of separation that the Jedi seem determined to sidestep whenever possible, however they can. 

The single bed is a rarity that keeps drawing Cody’s attention like a neon sign flickering out of step with the world around it. He’s used to sleeping alone now, his own separation from his brothers, his world blunted behind thick leather and heavy plastoid to keep him moulded as he was intended, but he can remember the dormitories when he had been barely bigger than a shiny and he was no different than any of his batchmates. He can barely remember their names or numbers now, a deliberate forgetting Cody forced himself through after the first casualty report landed in front of him, his hands bound in bacta from his blaster shattering in his grip, bloodied and yet it hadn’t been enough. 

It would never be enough.

“What tea did you select for us, Cody?” Obi-Wan pulls out the kettle from the alcove, his head bowed in quiet contemplation before he rests it in midair, returning to the alcove for two mugs dangling from his crooked fingers before he picks the kettle back up.

Cody doesn’t think about the word ‘us’. He’s getting better at doing that. 

“Picked it up last rotation.” Cody’s voice cracks at the final word, stumbles into cowering compliance as his knuckles ache with the desire to do something (ERROR: it isn’t time yet). He swallows, swings his gaze from Obi-Wan’s bed to the rough sheen of the kettle, non-regulation modifications packed beneath the innocuous surface so it has its own transfer form for whenever Obi-Wan brings it onto planet-side with him for the longer campaigns. He’s allowed, as is his right, to bring more items than the standard clone trooper. Cody is similarly allotted a slight increase in his cargo allowance and he has no end of brothers who are willing to pick up a maintenance slot here and there in exchange for some of it.

It’s strange. 

He’s a little jealous of them, he thinks. It comes easier for them.

“Oh? What about it caught your eye?” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t reach for the package, waits for Cody to offer it. Instead, he watches Cody beneath lowered lashes, ostensibly scooping and re-scooping the same amount of sugar, letting the granules tip back into the rustling packet at each attempt. There are choices to be made, but Cody falls back onto old habits, open-palmed and offered up like a sacrifice to a deity they manufactured themselves out of scrap metal and the scent of salt and the hopes of what the Jedi would be like, their unknown purchasers. It had been old when the Alpha batch were shinies, decaying by the time Cody had grown, but it is still there, still watching.

(Interesting. A side-effect, perhaps?)

“It was the picture at first.” Cody doesn’t shift his gaze as Obi-Wan steps closer, impossible not to watch him in such close quarters but Cody focuses on the delicate embroidery covering a burn mark on Obi-Wan’s tunic, the sharp scent of bacta rising. “Reminds me of Kamino.”

Obi-Wan scoops the packet up, cradling it in his palms as he raises it up to the dull glow of the light. It breaks against the planes of his cheekbones, turns his hair golden at the edges to replace the whisper of silver throughout, and Obi-Wan hums in answer. “Good flavours too, I’m particularly fond of wild cherry, it’s a shame the crop itself will be in short supply this year due to the change in agriculture. Not even just because of the war, but Stewjoni—“ 

The kettle whistles and Obi-Wan turns back to it, the sound of his scuffed footsteps not aligning with the fall of his boot. He ducks his head and returns to the alcove, still speaking, still animated with a flush to his cheeks. 

“—Stewjoni is my home planet originally or, at least, that is what was put into my records. But they are the main exporter of this type of wild cherry and they’ve had a higher-than-expected amount of rain in recent years and a significant number of the trees haven’t produced fruit because of it. We won’t feel the effects for a while, modern food storage being what it is, but there’ll be a shortage in a year or two.” 

Cody can’t make out what Obi-Wan is doing, but he can hear the kettle taper off into a low rolling boil, water splash into three cups and the scent of something Cody can’t name fills the air. It’s close to the memory of the market stall at the edge of a decaying town, the flat space loaded with numerous packets and they had smelt slightly sweet behind the industrial tang of the packaging and the lingering ash of battle. It’s a nice smell and Cody breathes in deeply.

“Here you go, Cody.” Obi-Wan balances two cups on the small table in the centre of the room, sweeping the handles round to both face the same direction before he straightens and pulls the desk chair out, sinking into it. One cup is immediately familiar as caf, sweetened to the point of thickness, and something in Cody’s chest twists at the thought of Obi-Wan remembering, of not needing to ask because he knows, and it takes a moment for him to assess the second cup. The liquid inside is paler by a few degrees, tending towards a deep red shade, and it is the source of the new scent. 

“Have you any plans for your leave? I believe I’m going to be stuck at the Temple for the duration.” Obi-Wan crosses his legs whenever he sits if he isn’t restrained by the arms of the chair. In those situations, he will often sit sideways, throwing his legs over the arm in order to sprawl. He’s sitting like that now, stance wide and somehow stable despite the deliberate tilt to the chair. 

Cody reaches for the cup as he twists his thoughts into an answer. He feels almost like a cadet again, strapped into an armour that’s too big for him, stumbling around in search of something that makes sense. “I picked up some supplies to try knitting,” he offers, his back straightening before he can stop himself. He might as well have carved through the plastoid on his chest and offered Obi-Wan his bleeding heart and it would feel less personal. 

But Obi-Wan brightens, turning towards Cody like a flower searching for the sun, and it’s okay, it’s going to be alright.

“That’s wonderful to hear, it truly is a rewarding skill to have.” 

Cody nods, wishing in vain for his helmet to hide the flush on his cheeks, and picks up the tea instead, lowering his head to sip at it. It tastes sweet, like the warm sensation of his fingertips brushing against Obi-Wan’s and Cody drinks more, craving something he can’t fully name. Not yet, at least. 

[yurababy]

you’re a whole constellation— l.jh

synopsis woozi’s new studio looks a bit too perfect for his liking. he has no idea what to write for his next song, but he has a thought on how to make his new space a bit more homely.

notes idol!lee jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader, ONLY 2.9K WHAT. NO WAY. i’m sorry. some angst, fluff, and smut, implied squirting or whatever u wanna call it, fingering, yeah. the vibe here is: “i call u babe, baby’s called my happiness.”

➤ happy bday. ⭐️🍰 wrote this on a whim. title from “nasty” by ariana grande bc jihoon has recommended it before. refer to pics of the universe factory if u don’t know what it looks like. he publically showed his new studio november 2021 for reference. not proofread i’ll do it later! universe factory is unbelievably gorgeous so i needed to do this. i’m sorry this took forever. it took me 4 months. mb bro.

part of the don’t listen in secret series.

taglist ♡ @zen003xx @seung-sungs @angelwonie @rubyreduji @vvsmydiamonds127 @shualicious @whyokoa @dreamhannies @313hwa @minnie-mouser22 @knucklesdeepmingi @lenireads @oolanderr @bestboysvt @misssugarlips @whereisgyu @kodzukein @i4kt @wonushuasworld  @aurumness @bibinnieposts @venusprada @ikissvernon  @listxn @starlight-nightz @svtrbi​ @bakugosbottombitch @kooklovesu @alluringlino @hiddlesdweeb

༺♡༻

“holy shit, ji,” you said as a heel clicked against the hard floor upon entering the room. a chuckle was more exhaled than laughed beside you, and if you weren’t busy admiring the setting, you’d see a suddenly shy woozi scratching his neck.

“i like it so much,” he admitted, trailing behind your wandering figure. “i’m so excited to work in here.”

“universe factory” couldn’t have been executed more perfectly than this. the purple-pink LED lights through the area with a small corner designated to a warm yellow glow, the surprising prism with drawings plastered on each side, and the ceiling.

you felt like a little kid peering through a telescope, wide eyed at the invisible celestials. the nebula and twinkling stars scattered on top were more reminiscent to an old trend of galaxy-print than a NASA sighting. but, as you turned to jihoon for the first time since entering his new studio, you found the stars in his prideful eyes. in that moment, he was sparkling.

you grinned harder as your vision was suddenly becoming blurry. “wow,” you turned your attention to something down, something to conceal the drama of your happiness. “i’m really proud of you.”

he was fixing the positions of some figurines on shelves ever-so-slightly, if you thought about it more it seemed like he was distracting himself the same way you were. he was never one to get emotional. “thank you. i am too… i just need to fill it with music now.”

your interest piqued at that. it was always so exciting to see how in the zone woozi was while creating music, but also, how his mind worked. his abilities never failed to astonish you— it was so hot how he just hummed a random melody and it would then be the chorus of a number one title track. he was nothing less than a genius.

“y/n?”

since when was he standing in front of you?

you blinked once, then twice. “yeah?”

you watched his eyes squint and the corners of his lips tug upwards, but you didn’t comment. did he have a thermostat? he should get one. the room is hot, the air feels thick. maybe you can buy him one of those hand-held fans. maybe you can fan him while he composes.

“i asked if you wanted to help. like, now, just casually.”

definitely casually, you thought, but the furrow of your eyebrows was made evident to jihoon. “i mean,” he continued, an eyebrow of his own raised, “maybe you’ll have some kind of fresh idea. new studio, new sound?”

“oh.” did he want you to sing? to play an instrument? this was woozi, what could you do that he couldn’t? “i’m not sure how i could possibly help you make a song, but sure,” you smiled. you’ll figure it out, probably, and why wouldn’t you want to spend some time with jihoon?

“trust me, you can help me in more ways than you can imagine. we’ll make a song like the kpop industry has never seen before.”

that had you holding back a scoff— what hadn’t the kpop industry seen? woozi likes it when people are honest around him. you decided to share your confusion out loud.

it only earned a wider grin from the boy who was making his way towards his long sofa. you followed in suit, taking note of the mirror right in front, taking up the full length of the wall, and his piano to the right of the mirror. the brief wonder of why such a large mirror was in his studio was held back from being verbally expressed when your earlier question received comment from the boy who had sat on the soft ivory.

for someone of jihoon’s stature, his hands were truly suprisingly large. his veins exposed themselves as nimble fingers spun a pencil in one hand, the other setting aside a notepad. he still held his smile, exhaling a bit dramatically as he patted the space on the cushions beside him, inviting you. “fans seem to think otherwise. i’m sure we could figure something out.”

that’s how you and jihoon found the first half of the evening’s end, the loud laughter and attempts at piano during dusk melting into squints to find starlight in the midst of pollution. the failed musical endevour had been given up for catch-up time accompanied by a previously hidden wine bottle.

“i wish we could see real stars more often,” you sighed, emphasizing the adjective as to not discredit the admiration for the universe factory. your eyes flickered from the faint glows above seoul to the lilac luminescence in your surroundings. a chuckle had you tilting your head at the boy beside you.

he shaked his hand as if to say “no, nothing,” but still provided context. “that reminded me a lot of a song i worked on earlier this year. you know i wish, right?”

your lips involuntary curved upwards as you nodded and sat up facing him. it was better this way, hearing jihoon talk about something he was so enamored with. you wondered if all his writing credits allowed for casual eloquency practice.

something was suddenly quiet, like jihoon was lost in his thoughts. you decided upon asking a question.

“how do you come up with sad lyrics?”

woozi seemed somewhat taken aback by that, evident in the widening of his eyes, but he regained his composure as soon as he lost it. in fact, he eaned back and stretched his triceps. “usually just imagining what it would be like, i watch anime too.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “not experience?”

he now looked in the space between his lap, clicking his tongue. “not usually, to be honest. i don’t have time to get experience,” he laced the words with a laugh, a silent understanding between the two of you that he was talking about love. “it gets a little tiring sometimes.”

you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth next, a bit too fast as if instinct: “romantic or not, you’re surrounded by love, ji, that counts.”

times like these had you regretting your awful memory, when jihoon would break his front and look fragile. the look that followed your response was not quite hurt but held the same pain and shock, like it was miles away from what he expected. you turned away, once again regretfully—  it was a face that you were not supposed to see. and woozi recognized that a beat too late, because a frown already painted your face at the sight of his blush-streaked pale.

you knew he did not want to talk about that outburst from his initiation of affection. he extended an arm, an invitation which you accepted by meeting the boy who sat up almost diagonally on the corner of the couch. your body fit in between his spread legs as the back of your head hit his shoulder, woozi’s arm swinging around your own.

one, two, and some more kisses were planted somewhere among your hair and forehead. the distance between the two of you was small, but you still questioned your hearing when hot breath accompanied his lips, a plush sensation against your skin as if he was saying something but you couldn’t make out anything more than mumbles. you did make out one thing though, a little, “at least i have my friend baby.”

at the therapeutic atmosphere, your eyes has subconsciously fluttered shut, and you hadn’t realized until you remembered the joy of being in the moment with jihoon, seeing him. you must have looked starstruck when your gaze met his considering how his gibbous eyes waned into crescents, his mouth replicating the semi-circle shape as well with his smile. for some reason it made you smile too, maybe too hard for the moment.

“i love music,” he suddenly confessed, grin evident in his voice. your eyes coincidentally fell towards the wine bottle from earlier.

your face knit in confusion and you exhaled a laugh, but he kept smiling. “what’s got you so happy now?”

jihoon wet his lips and looked down at you, eyes back to their standard size. “i’ve always had this idea that i don’t think anyone else has really done.” a pause. you waited before questioning because it was so easy to tell when he was thinking. you felt the returned contact of his lips on your face in that duration. “in kpop. something you can help me with.” he then added.

you occupied yourself with his hand, ever-so reminiscent of jade and silk. “i’m listening.”

you felt the vibration of a hum in the place of a verbal answer, then jihoon’s other hand tilting up your chin. (somewhere along the way of the words you blame his wine on, your gaze fell down on his sculpted hands.)

then, a kiss, to which you eagerly responded. jihoon did not talk much about his past, his relationships, his feelings to begin with, but had you not know his schedule, he might as well have been hitting the club daily. he used his mouth like a paintbrush covering canvas, not quite hungry and overly passionate but not gentle either. the two of you were not doing this often, but you swallowed down a question that you knew was too much.  has there ever been anyone?

the action had the boy make a noise that was only comparable to a purr.

he slowy unweaved the two of you, taking his time to break the touch. you didn’t whine, you knew it was not a true goodbye. he wasn’t one for short or half-assed affection.

“i won’t do it if you say no, i swear, but if you feel like doing something, could i record the audio?” his explanation of his idea had him getting a bit timid, scarlet airbrushed against his cheeks as you watched him. 

“like a video of us fucking?” 

he cringed a bit at that, you coud see it in the scrunch of his nose.“no, no, definitely not, i wouldn’t- no. i just meant the audio? phone face-down.”

“what will you do with it?”

“delete it if you want, but i wanted to try playing an excerpt really quiet in the back of a song. thinking of releasing a solo soon.”

your head moved further up against his shoulder as you nodded. “okay.”

“what?”

you giggled and sat up, allowing him room to get up. “why so surprised? i trust you, musical genius.”

jihoon squinted a bit and shook his head but didn’t verbalize any thoughts as he quietly made his way towards his sound equipment. from there, he pressed a few buttons and did some other stuff that made no sense to you, but watching his veins flex on his nimble hands as he swiftly worked was a nice view. it didn’t take long before he exhaled, almost shyly, “one, two,” and assured the audio was working.

“it’s recording. our voices.” he spoke a bit stiffly, but you knew how he was feeling. it only took the painfully slow cracking of each of his knuckles, a deep breath, and a slightly hesitant would music interfere with the recording? probably, right? before he planted himself onto the chair closest to his recording desk. suddenly, he seemed perfectly comfortable, the evidence in his lax recline and manspread.

“come here,” his eyes dwelled on the ground for a second too long, waiting for your steps across the floor before he would look up. once you made your way over to him, a silent understanding of your designated place to be on his lap, he run his palms up and down your sides. there was a tilt to his head, eyes not leaving yours now. the recording picked up heavy breaths and the smooth of skin against skin with no real contact yet.

then, another breath, trying to come out as a laugh, but the only assurance of this is the disappearance of jihoon’s eyes and the apples of his cheeks. “well,” he started, big hands caging your waist as he circled the dimples of your back beneath your shirt. “let’s make music, then.”

in search of friction, you begin rocking yourself on his lap and take note to catch him in the gym one day. it’s too easy, the way you already begin gasping at the notice of jihoon bucking his hips up. when you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, his lips latch onto as far as they can reach, near your neck.

“i always liked the color red. lucky me, babygirl wears it so often,” he spoke while pushing your head to face his, taking in the sight of your scarlet blush and lips tinted vermilion.

“jihoon,” you managed to form, though slightly incoherent. “get on with it.”

this earned a smile out of the latter, stroking your hair in what almost seemed like an assert of dominance. “can you go against the soundboard? give me a second.” you got into the requested position, turning your head to watch him fish through a drawer. when he revealed a sweet flavored lube bottle, he ever so nimbley poured a generous amount on his fingers (the way he moved the bottle to cover the entirety of his long digits made you salviate a bit) and approached you at what seemed like a centimeter per second.

one hand met your waist, rubbing circles while the other pulled down your skirt. he allowed it to hit the ground before he let himself see what you had other, a hidden ruby jewel just for him.

“baby’s so kind, coloring me red everytime i see her. thank you for the gift.”

he talked and moved much too slow, the wetness of your cunt darkening the color of your underwear. jihoon rubbed against the cloth with a coo and two fingers before he pushed it to the side.

with the pad of his index against your clit, you took the opportunity to rock against it. woozi didn’t punish, he simpy moved his hand to grip your hip still and gave a light slap to your pussy, eliciting a breathy moan from you. 

(he would have a hard time fitting this into a song, he thinks. he doesn’t think he could produce without being unbearably hard. he figures he could just enjoy the sex and stop thinking about work.)

“jihoon, please, please go ahead, sorry,” you begged. he kissed your shoulder and rubbed your clit with two fingers before thrusting his middle into you. no worries.

and you really loved that about jihoon, that he didn’t understand punishment during pleasure. it wasn’t that you disliked punishment, no, but sometimes you just needed to get on with it. you and him both.

“two,” you almost immedietly spoke, and he followed with his index. they curled knuckle-deep and hit into you in such a calculated rhythm, speeding up into a chorus, making you wonder if he was already composing. 

then, an anti-drop. he slowed and you made incoherable sounds. “y/n, do you want to cum now, or later?”

“both,” you whined, and the beat came back.

“is that so,” he lightly chuckled, speeding up to a pace you didn’t know could still be enjoyable. as he pushed his fingers in further, you gasped, the penetration serving as yet another reminder of how long they are. balancing yourself on the soundboard, you reached for the hand that was steady on your hip and brought it up, up, until his fingers touched your tongue. you smiled against the skin when you heard jihoon grunt.

he pushed the digits further into your mouth, allowing you to circle your spit around his skin. “you have 5 seconds. maybe you forgot, but i can’t have your noises muffled.” muffed, they were, as far as you could tell with the protesting scream that came out as a mere grumble. punishment or not, he was a bit sadistic, something he would dwell on if he had more chances with intimacy like this.

when the time was up, you did not have much time to miss the sensation in your mouth. woozi pulled out his fingers, flipped you around, supported the two of you against the soundboard, replaced his fingers, and kissed you. he knew what he was doing, working at his fast pace with his hand and keeping your mouth busy at the same time. he released your lips everytime he touched them, allowing you to still moan openly while getting what you both wanted. 

“right there,” you breathed out, though it took you a couple of tries to get out the phrase. your g-spot, he figured, angling his fingers to the area.

when he looked at where you were being recorded, he saw the frequency wave showcasing your high-pitched noises, understanding you were close before you whimpered it out. a last minute decision, jihoon’s pinky slid into you accompanied by the other two digits, his fingers rubbing and pumping and the words, “thank you, baby” against your mouth sending you over the edge. he smirked at the frequency wave when you screamed, kissing a tear that slipped from your eye as you came. only, he realized you were still cumming.

“baby,” he looked at your tightly-shut eyes and parted lips, free hand coming up to your neck to cushion your body. “are you okay?”

“huh?” you opened your eyes, becoming aware of just how wet you were. you looked down, only to see his fingers escape from your folds and relocate to his mouth. he seemed to think for a moment, tongue settled against your release, before capturing the hem of your panties between his fingers.

“sorry i ruined these, babygirl. song’s not quite finished yet, though.”

[bear-man74]

And now for all the thoughts currently circulating in my head.

Egg

Ostrich

Ostrich egg

Edible?

Eat ostrich egg

Large pan

32 egg omelette calories

Egg packing factory

Why does popcorn smell like something died

What's the crunchiest pasta

Is lars alive

I wonder how much a miller mig costs

Why am i typing this

Noone will read this

I hope ant is ok. They haven't posted anything yet

What's the difference between a bunny and a rabbit

Bunny sounds nsfw. Ill continue to call them all rabbits

Was jesus a slut

I wonder if there's a hieght shrinking surgery

How to unfuse a hip

Penis

Why is the nickelback yapper so hot

What's his name

Is Kimmel gay

Why are there so many comedians named jimmy

How long ago did mrbeast remove the 6000 from his name

2016 is 3 years ago right

I need to visit the ptbo canoe museum again. It's been 7 years

I wonter if the sasparilla trail is open

Is lytle park still there

Why did they remove the indoor mini golf across from the bcps

Men

Why is faggot a bad word

Make hime the greatest man car door hook hand

Will is ever hit 22c again

Why aren't 11 and 12 in the _teen category

What's with all) the false bans

If only there was a coffee that actually wakes me up

Weenor

I wonder if rivers is doing ok

Is rivers cuomo on tumblr

Why in the fuck are piss drinkers real

Will a ceiling fan still spin if it falls down breaking its cord

I oneder if id pop a bounce house under my weight

If the heel is back bump what is the front bump

Why can my toes form a 90 degree angle upwards

Do black ants like the smell of tictacs

Where did my sneese go

It just disappeared

What the fuck

I wonder how big our necks would be if we had antlers

Toenail removal surgery

Why are my calves so huge

Everyone else has tiny ones

How much fat percentage to finally see the abs

Why does my skin form eraser bits after i shower

Do goats like hugs

Knife sharpness level that perfectly cuts an eggshell in half

Where to get a tortoise shell

Can turtle shells stop a bullet

How to attach a rope to a brick wall

Fattiest cheese in the world

Cheesiest sandwich

Sans jr

How gamey is alligator liver

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This Bozeman, Montana home is described as eclectic. It’s modern, rustic, and industrial all rolled into one. Has 4bd. and 3.5ba. It’s listed for $1.47M.

Entry w/a bench, but I would want someplace to store boots and stuff.

Looks like pieces of colorful glass around the mantel.

Built in 2009, it’s basically an open concept w/the dining area next to the sitting area.

Looks like a combination industrial feature/shelf going across the living room. Notice how they put a fan in the beam. 

I’m going to call the kitchen industrial farmhouse. I’m fascinated by the exhaust system.

Notice the see-thru glass floor by the stairs.

Next to the kitchen is a cool powder room. Look at the unique sink. 

This bd. is plain, has a pitched ceiling, and access to a terrace.

It has cool en-suite. I like the tile and sink. Faucets in the wall look nice, but then you have to break up the wall and see if you can match the tile if it should need repair.

Fancy modern barn doors on the bds. 

This bd. also has a terrace and en-suite, plus a modern heat stove.

This en-suite has a large walk-in shower. Very nice.

Downstairs, I love these doors. 

These are the 2 other bds. 

They share this bath.

The terrace runs the length of the house.

It’s hard to see the yard b/c of the snow.

The land is .37 acre and there appears to be a factory of some sort in the distance.

https://www.priceypads.com/eclectic-1-47m-jeff-brandner-designed-home-in-bozeman-montana/