#coding is not knowing why it isn’t working

[dovenskin]

Love your work!

Could you do an all x reader ask for the Eltingville club where they take turns on the reader and try to one up eachother?

⋆

eltingville ep. ノ

✦ Title: Glory Hole

cw : gangbang (m!4 x gn!reader), semi-public sex, reader-insert with neutral genitalia, degradation, praise kink, rough sex, overstimulation, biting, bruising, and knife play, canon-level misogyny, fatphobia (Bill toward Josh), incel-coded dialogue, and general toxic masculinity, multiple creampies (implied)

an : bill is unfortunately my favorite 💔

© dovenskin

Bill’s basement always smelled like stale soda, BO, and melted plastic. The couch was sticky, the table cluttered with Magic: The Gathering decks, grease-smudged dice, and crumpled fan letters. Pete was already scowling, slouched against the busted pinball machine.

“I’m just saying,” Pete grunted, arms folded, “none of you are doing it right if they’re not screaming your name.”

“Oh please,” Josh snapped, red-faced under his Dune tee. “You don’t even last long enough to make someone scream. You just cum and quote Cronenberg.”

Pete shot him a glare. “You think jackhammering with approval issues counts as skill?”

From the couch, Jerry mumbled, “It’s not about being rough. It’s about being attentive. Like... making sure they’re comfortable—”

“Comfortable?” Bill barked from his metal lawn chair, swinging his head around, half-eaten Slim Jim in hand. “This isn’t a fucking spa day, Jerry! Christ. No wonder people avoid you. They don’t want a heated towel—they want to be ravaged. Dominated. That’s why I’m the only one in this club who’s had actual sex.”

He puffed out his chest like he expected applause.

Pete rolled his eyes. “We’ve all done it, Bill. With the same person, too. The difference is some of us do it better.”

Bill opened his mouth to fire back, but that’s when you came down the basement steps.

You hadn’t expected to walk into this. You were dressed for comfort—maybe a little too warm for a basement this humid—and when all four of them turned to stare, you froze.

“…What?”

Bill’s smirk came first, slow and curling like a lit match. “Speak of the devil.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jerry sighed.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” you asked.

Josh cleared his throat. “Hypothetically. Performance stuff.”

Pete shrugged. “Just wondering who’d fuck you the best.”

You blinked. “Are you serious?”

“C’mon, friendly competition,” Pete said, grinning. “No harm, no foul.”

Your brows knit. “There is harm. And there will be foul, because you losers don’t know how to act. Am I just a fucking toy to you?”

Bill started to speak, but you cut him off with a sharp glare. “Don’t answer that. Not one of you better say a word or I’m going home.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Can we do this or not? Quit your bitching already.”

You shot him a look. Jerry stepped forward, voice gentler. “We promise not to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

That small, tentative smile of his made you hesitate. Made you cave—just a little. Which is how you ended up here: half-naked in a filthy basement, your skin prickling from the cold and four sets of eyes crawling all over you like vultures at a con table.

“I’ll go first!” Josh declared, already halfway upright.

Bill groaned. “If you don’t crush them with all that fat, it’ll be a miracle.”

Pete and Jerry laughed. Josh ignored them.

“Keep laughing,” he muttered. “I’ll be the one to satisfy while you three sit there with limp, lopsided dicks.”

He placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you to the futon like he was offering you a Star Trek captain’s chair.

“Lie down, will ya?”

JOSH

Josh stripped like he was defusing a bomb. His fingers fumbled at the buttons of his gray blazer, yanking it off like it had insulted him. The black shirt underneath clung to his round belly, pits stained and soaked. You caught the unmistakable whiff of sweat and knockoff cologne as he tossed it aside and stared at you like you were a rare mint-condition variant.

His khakis strained at the zipper. Converse laces flopped loose. His brown ponytail clung damp to the back of his flushed neck. Glasses slid halfway down his nose as he drank you in—sprawled on the futon, legs open, breath hitching.

He looked like someone watching a forbidden scene from a fan-edited VHS. Reverent. Horny. Horribly sincere.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. His voice cracked halfway through. “You’re… I mean, fuck. You look…”

His eyes traveled your body like it was a treasure map.

“You look better than anything I’ve ever jerked off to,” he breathed. “And that includes the Slave Leia bust I keep under my bed.”

You smirked. Barely. He was already gripping your thighs, maneuvering you like a wrestling coach setting up the “victory position”—which, apparently, meant knees to chest and Josh on top, breathing like he’d just finished a 5K.

His cock was flushed and thick, twitching in his hand. He lined himself up, trembling like a joystick during a boss fight.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Oh my god, you’re real. You’re really letting me—fuck—”

He pushed in, slow and shaky, like he was afraid he’d blow too soon. You were tight, warm, wet—and he felt everything. His whole body shuddered as he sank deeper, big hands under your thighs, gasping like he’d leveled up in real life.

“Holyshitfuckholyshitfuck—you’re tight—you’re so fucking tight—Jesus—”

He started thrusting, but it wasn’t coordinated. It was frantic, sweaty, slapdash fucking—powered by adrenaline and sheer nerd desperation. His belly pressed against you, glasses fogging with every grunt. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto your chest.

“Bet none of them’ll fuck you like this,” he panted. “I’m giving you everything. All of it. I’m gonna make you scream my name—gonna stretch you out so good they won’t even fit after this—”

His pace was sloppy but overwhelming, hips smacking with wet, anxious urgency. You moaned—and his eyes widened.

“Shit—did you just—did you clench? F-fuck—”

You clenched again. He twitched.

“I’m coming,” he gasped. “I’m—I’m fucking—oh my god—fuuuuck—”

Josh came like it hurt—loud, trembling, choking on every sound as he jackhammered through the orgasm. He rutted into you helplessly, groaning into your neck, stomach slick and pressed to yours as every spurt dragged through you like a death rattle.

Then he flopped to the side—half on the futon, half on the carpet—gasping like he’d just respawned.

He adjusted his glasses with one shaking hand and grinned at the ceiling.

“Top that, assholes.”

PETE

Pete didn’t wait for an invite. He rolled his eyes, walked over, and shoved Josh off the futon with a grunt and a boot.

“Move. That was pathetic.”

Josh landed with a thud and a winded “Hey!”

Pete didn’t respond. He was already undoing his belt, smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment all week. “Let me show you how a real man does it.”

He slapped your thigh—loud and sharp—earning a side-eye, but you turned over anyway. Pete grabbed your hips and pulled you up, flush to him. His cock was already out—thick, flushed, twitching—and you barely had time to brace yourself before he spat. Hot. Messy. It hit your lower back and slid down.

Two fingers shoved the spit in, fast, rough. No finesse. Just brute prep and attitude.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “Look at you. Already wrecked… guess Joshzilla wasn’t completely useless.”

You whimpered as his fingers curled, tugged, then withdrew.

“You like that, huh?” he said, voice thoughtful but mocking, like he was inspecting a new action figure. “Didn’t expect you to still have anything left.”

Then came the pressure. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance—and without warning, he slammed in.

You yelped. Pete grunted, fingers bruising your hips as he held you in place, buried to the hilt. He stayed there a beat, panting, then leaned over you—his hoodie brushing your spine, his breath hot on your neck.

“This what you wanted?” he sneered in your ear. “Bent over for a bunch of basement freaks? Getting stuffed full like some kind of fan service side quest?”

You moaned. His hand cracked down on your thigh again. Stinging heat.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Good.”

Then he moved.

No teasing. No rhythm. Just raw, mean, relentless thrusts—hips slamming into you like he was trying to leave bruises. His jeans were halfway down, belt buckle clinking every time it slapped your ass. Sweat darkened the collar of his hoodie. The whole basement stank of arousal and effort.

And then he did something that made your blood run cold.

While still inside you, Pete reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and flicked something open with a soft click.

Your breath caught.

Cold metal kissed your back. Thin. Dull. But unmistakable.

A pocket knife.

He didn’t cut you. He just dragged the flat side up your spine. Slowly. Deliberately. Until the tip rested at the base of your neck.

“Could slice you open right now,” he murmured. Calm. Cruel. “Just one little push.”

You were trembling. He loved it.

“Bet you’d taste as good as you feel.”

Then he bit you. Hard. Teeth sunk into your shoulder, your neck, your back—deep enough to leave marks, maybe scars. You moaned, helpless, and he groaned into your skin.

“You sound so fucking good like that,” he breathed. “Like someone who gets it.”

Another slap to your thigh. Another punishing thrust.

He kept fucking you like he was punishing himself for liking it too much. Every breath came out through clenched teeth. Every motion was laced with something unstable. He muttered filth under his breath—too low to catch all of it—but you caught pieces.

“Fucking perfect.”

“Should’ve gone first.”

“God, this hole—tight—tight—tight—”

You started clenching around him. He twitched.

“No—don’t—fuck, don’t do that—”

You clenched again.

He growled. A full-body shudder ran through him.

“You little—fuck—”

He slammed in hard, deep, and stayed there—hips flush, cock twitching as he came. Hot, fast, angry. His teeth were still at your shoulder. One hand twisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he wanted to pull you apart.

Every pulse of it poured into you.

When it was over, he pulled out with a grunt and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie. His eyes lingered on your back—on the bite marks, the knife track, the twitching heat between your legs.

He didn’t say thank you. Just zipped up and muttered:

“Should’ve saved the knife for Bill.”

Bill scoffed from his lawn chair. “Thought you said a real man would do it right. That was weak.”

Pete flipped him off without turning around. “Stick it up your crusty ass.”

“You wish.”

Bill nudged Jerry, who was watching you with flushed cheeks and his hands in his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I’ll let Romeo go next,” Bill drawled, tossing his Slim Jim wrapper at the table like a smug bachelor. “I’ll clean up after.”

Jerry stood, hard in his jeans and pale as printer paper.

Pete rolled his eyes. “Have fun writing them a sonnet while you’re at it.”

JERRY

Jerry had been quiet the whole time. Watching. Red in the face, thighs clenched, hands folded like he was in a church pew instead of a basement full of sweat, spit, and ego. When Bill waved him forward with that condescending smirk, Jerry hesitated—just for a second—then stood.

Obvious hard-on straining against his jeans.

He stepped toward you with shaky hands and wide eyes, like he was approaching an altar, not a mattress. He didn’t touch you right away. Just knelt between your legs, sweater sleeves rolled up, fingers flexing like he was warming them before a delicate job.

You looked down at him. He looked up at you.

“Can I…?” he asked, voice quiet. “Can I take my time?”

You nodded. His whole body relaxed with a sigh, like he’d been holding his breath since you walked in.

He touched you carefully. Reverently. His palms skimmed your thighs like he was memorizing you through texture—thumbs stroking circles into your skin, breath trembling. Then a kiss to the inside of your leg. Soft. Then another, closer.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, like it physically hurt him to say it out loud. “I—I mean, you always are, but…”

He trailed off. Swallowed hard. Slid his fingers between your legs.

First one. Then another. Then three. All slow. Measured. His touch wasn’t bold or skilled like Pete’s. It wasn’t desperate and sloppy like Josh’s. It was… careful. Grounded. He studied your face with every motion, like he was waiting for a signal, a sound, a twitch to tell him what you needed.

“You’re still so sensitive,” he breathed, almost apologetic. “Does that feel okay?”

You moaned, and he flushed brighter. His hand moved smoother. More confident. Then, when he was sure you were ready, he pulled his fingers away and stroked himself—already flushed, leaking, twitching in his palm.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Then he pressed in. Slow. Inch by inch. Face twisted in awe.

You were warm. Soft. Tight.

He made it halfway before groaning out, “Holy shit,” and resting his forehead against your chest.

Once he was fully inside, he just… stayed there.

Breathing. Feeling. Soaking in the closeness.

“Okay?” he asked, eyes darting to yours. You nodded. He kissed your collarbone, then began to move.

His rhythm was steady. Gentle, but deep. Each thrust was measured—focused. Intent. Like he wanted to carve the feeling of you into memory. His hips rolled smoothly, pressure just right, pace gradually building as you gasped underneath him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered. “You take me so well. It’s like… like you were made for me.”

He adjusted your hips just a little, and it changed everything—angle, pressure, depth. You moaned louder. He sucked in a breath, moaned right back, and leaned in to kiss you. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t horny. It was grateful. Like you’d given him a gift he didn’t deserve.

“You feel incredible,” he panted, pressing into you deeper. “You—you’re everything.”

You clenched around him, and he whined—not high-pitched, not embarrassing. Just raw. Needful.

“Say my name.”

You did. His hips stuttered.

“Again.”

You repeated it.

He threw his head back, fucking harder now—pace losing control, sweat dripping down his chest. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room. His grip tightened. His face twisted like he was fighting not to break.

And then he broke.

He gasped—deep, desperate—and came inside you with a cry. You felt every pulse, every twitch. He held you through it, forehead pressed to yours, chest heaving.

He didn’t pull out right away.

He just stayed there. Close. Warm.

When he finally slid free, he kissed your cheek. Soft. Almost bashful.

“Thank you.”

A beat.

Then Bill’s voice cut through the air like a fly buzzing in a light fixture:

“How romantic,” he snorted. “Jesus, can we move it along, Romeo?”

Pete and Josh were already back on the couch. Pete cracked open another Mountain Dew, rolled his eyes, and muttered, “This oughta be good.”

Jerry helped you lie back gently, then stood—adjusting his jeans, still flushed, still dazed.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, ignoring Bill’s theatrics. “Do you need water, or…?”

You didn’t have time to answer before the metal chair screeched.

And Bill stood.

BILL

Jerry had barely pulled out when Bill shot up like someone lit a fire under his ass. His metal lawn chair crashed behind him, forgotten. He was already peeling off his flannel, muttering curses under his breath like he’d been holding back a volcano the entire time.

“Jesus Christ,” he spat, pacing once, twice. “Are we done reading fucking sonnets to their holes now? What is this, a Hallmark special? You guys treating this like a sleepover when I’m about to redefine their goddamn spine curvature.”

Josh snorted from the floor. Pete cracked open another soda.

Bill ignored them.

His glasses were fogged from sweat and fury—he ripped them off and tossed them onto the cluttered table, knocking over a Mountain Dew can in the process. His black tee rode up over his pale, sweaty belly as he shoved his jeans halfway down his thighs, boxers bunched awkwardly beneath.

Acne across his chest. Damp hair sticking to his forehead. The distinct stench of Axe body spray and bitterness.

“This is the main event,” he muttered, climbing over you like a storm cloud with a hard-on. “This is real.”

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t prep.

He just shoved in.

One long, rough thrust that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“Fuuuuck—” he gasped. “Jesus fucking CHRIST. You feel better than I ever—fuck—”

Your body clenched on instinct, still sensitive, still aching—and he twitched hard inside you, already panting like he’d run a marathon.

His hands were under your knees, spreading you wide, forcing eye contact. His pupils were blown out, glassy, like he was drunk off you. Off the idea of you. Off the conquest.

“Look at me,” he growled. “You better fucking look. I want you to see who’s wrecking you.”

You did.

And it wasn’t pretty.

His thrusts were frantic—angry. Like he was trying to erase the memory of every other guy before him. Like every slap of his hips was revenge. He leaned in close, nose almost touching yours, hair hanging limp around his face.

“You think Josh made you cum?” he hissed. “Think Pete’s little psycho routine gets you off? Think Jerry—fucking Jerry—knows how to make you feel like this?”

He bit down hard on your neck. Not sexy. Not playful.

Possessive.

“You’re squeezing me on purpose,” he growled. “You think that’s funny? Trying to make me lose control?”

You clenched again.

He yelped—and slapped his palm against the mattress.

“Shitshitshit—don’t—don’t do that! I swear to fucking god—”

He snapped his hips forward. Again. And again. Brutal, desperate. He was unraveling by the second, sweaty bangs sticking to his cheeks, mouth hanging open in something between a grimace and a moan.

“You think you’re in control?” he panted. “You’re not. I am. I’m—fuck—I’m in control—”

He wasn’t.

Not even a little.

His thighs were trembling. His rhythm was breaking down. He was panting into your mouth like he needed your breath to survive.

And then—

He broke.

Bill came with a choked, wet gasp—biting your shoulder as his body locked up. You felt him twitch and pulse inside you, loud and unfiltered, rutting like a dog in heat even as his legs gave out. His breath hitched with every thrust, like he was trying to keep it going, trying to prove a point.

Even as he was falling apart.

When it was done, he collapsed on top of you. His sweat slicked between your bodies, breath hot on your neck. He didn’t move for a long time.

Then he shoved himself up, muttering, “Whatever. Fucking—told you.”

He reached for his jeans with shaking hands. Didn’t look at you. Couldn’t. His voice came out hoarse and low, almost sulking.

“I still won.”

He jammed his glasses back on, crooked and smeared, flannel tossed over his bare chest without bothering to button it. He turned away like he didn’t care—but the tension in his shoulders, the pink flush across his ears, the way his hand curled into a fist near his thigh?

It said everything.

He wanted to win.

And he wasn’t sure if he did.

[thehmn]

When this post popped up again LINK I realized I haven’t been keeping up with crazy conspiracy theories so I looked into what they’re saying about Death Standing and oh boy oh boy.

I can’t go into every little thing but Sam is seen as a stand-in for the death angel Samael, his wife was named Lucy which is often used as code for Lucifer, babies are “sacrificed” as soon as they’re born from their pods (nevermind that Sam saves his baby Lou from the fire) and Higgs who is named after the God Particle is the villain so players are fighting God who is nothing but a puppet who thinks himself more powerful than he really is. He also constantly makes himself look like a cross or Jesus on the cross.

And Kojima couldn’t help himself and snug some occult imagery into the game (I don’t think the Monster Energy product placement was part of it but the conspiracy theorists made it work) Like, why does the star have “eyes” in the same place as the star of baphomet, Kojima?

I’m now convinced Kojima is playing into it on purpose like Del Toro and Refn who also put a lot of occult symbols and messages in their works. Unlike celebrities like Beyoncé who hates the Illuminati nonsense these guys are horror and pop culture nerds who have a lot of fun with it. Especially this photo convinced me he knows exactly what he’s doing. Nice Freemason t-shirt you got there.

Looking further into it I now have a better understanding of the roles they’re believed to have in Illuminati and why Kojima is apparently so important.

Guillermo del Toro is either a witch or a warlock who has the ability to summon monsters and demons and he spread their influence by having their likeness in his movies. If you know them they know you and all that.

His movies supposedly also work as spells that open portals into people’s homes. Not gonna lie, his powers sound sick as fuck!

Refn is responsible for human sacrifices in some way, either as overseer or organizer or something, because a lot of his movies have human sacrifices in them. He has also talked about having erotic fantasizes about being mutilated, killed and cannibalized himself (never forget what a huge freak he is) as well as feeling “submissive pleasure” by having Kojima kill him over and over in his game which is interpreted by conspiracy theorists as him having a desire do be sacrificed to Mads Mikkelsen Satan himself. If Illuminati consider satanic human sacrifices a good thing it stands to reason that Refn would want to experience it himself, yes?

So why is Kojima so important to the Illuminati? Well, Asia is believed to have their own evil secret society that’s in constant battle for world dominance with Illuminati. People use different names for it and I don’t know the cultural importance of any of them so I’ll just let it go unnamed here.

Del Toro wowed Kojima with his powers by showing him the creatures behind the veil and got him to leave Asian Illuminati which made him an extremely valuable member with a lot of inside knowledge into their mortal enemies (and it didn’t hurt that he has a strong hold on gamers). Hence why he was gifted a high ranking member like Refn who works closely with one of Satan’s vessels, Mads Mikkelsen.

Apparently that’s one of the hot and steamy things you do with your Illuminati mandated sub; make him send actors and actresses to you. We know from interviews Kojima told Refn he wanted a cool actor for the role of Cliff and Refn said he could get him either Keanu Reeves or Mads Mikkelsen and it seems Kojima pulled Refn’s strings again to get Elle Fanning (who was killed and cannibalized by witches in Refn’s movie The Neon Demon) for Death Stranding 2.

So that’s why Mads Mikkelsen is depicted as the coolest, hottest and scariest man to have ever walked the afterlife, and why Deadman who is based on Del Toro help Sam see the truth and leave Bridges and Heartman who is based on Refn is literally right about everything (the only thing he isn’t sure about it wether humans have separate afterlives)

It’s very funny to me that no one seems to be able to connect Norman Reedus to anything satanic or Illuminati besides a vague “He’s in this so he must be involved somehow” Best of luck to Luca Marinelli in DS2. Maybe the Illuminati has a spot for you.

Side tangent, I could talk forever about Kojima wanting the characters to move like the people they’re based so Deadman takes up a lot of space with his movements and constantly gets in Sam’s personal space until Sam learns he has nothing to fear from him like Del Toro apparently did to Kojima, while Heartman is awkward and tries to touch his male friends all the time (but unlike Deadman he respects a no) but like Refn he has an insane respect for women’s comfort and boundaries so even when Fragile faints he helps support her at a respectable arms length and leaves the more physical touching to another woman.

Anyway, I think the conspiracy theorists came up with some pretty good horror characters here. Love Mads Mikkelsen as Satan’s part time vessel. I’d personally have Kojima kill Refn over and over for real and not just in a video game and have Del Toro use black magic to bring him back. And maybe we can give Norman Reedus a backstory about selling his soul just so he has more to do? And does Troy Baker even know he’s made the avatar of god, the most hated figure in Illuminati, or will he realize that when he’s strapped to a sacrificial altar in front of Mads Mikkelsen? But what do I know about conspiracies. It’s okay, I’m sure we can workshop it and make George Miller fit in there somewhere once Death Stranding 2 is released.

[endemise]

i was struggling with coding an if statement that toggles a setting & couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working all to realize i put quotations marks around the variable (“$variable” instead of $variable)

anyways it works now

[devilsparda]

—

[hana-bobo-finch]

*hacker voice* I’m in

[automatic-midnight]

My biased, really unpopular take is that I think rit/su/maya is an objectively boring ship.

[luna-azzurra]

Genius Things to Do When You’re Stuck in Your Plot...

Make a fake conspiracy board connecting every character like you're solving a murder. Use string, post-its, color-coded chaos. Even if your book isn’t a thriller, this helps you spot secret relationships, hidden motivations, and “oh crap, this character actually caused that moment three chapters later” reveals.

Write a therapy session transcript for your protagonist. What would they say to a stranger? What wouldn’t they say? What does the therapist pick up on that they don’t? (Also: gives you instant internal conflict fuel.)

Record a fake podcast episode where your villain is a guest. The topic? “Why I Was Right and Everyone Else Is Just Soft.” Let them monologue. Let them get unhinged. You’ll learn so much about their worldview and how they justify their chaos.

Assign zodiac signs to all your main characters and write how they’d react to a haunted house. Not because astrology is the answer—but because forcing your brain to imagine characters in weird situations unlocks surprising truths. (Your Scorpio would definitely flirt with the ghost. Your Virgo brought sage.)

Write the worst possible ending to your story on purpose. Like, make it hilariously bad. Deus ex machina, everyone dies, aliens show up—it doesn’t matter. Sometimes mocking your plot actually helps you figure out what doesn’t work so you can reverse-engineer what does.

Do a “what if this happened instead?” daydream session in the shower or on a walk. No pressure. Just free-thinking. Let your brain go off-road. You might stumble into a better twist, or a softer moment, or a scene that guts you in the best way.

Write the one scene you’re most excited about—now. Even if you “haven’t earned it” yet in the draft. Screw linear order. Give yourself a jolt of joy. That scene might be the key to unlocking everything else.

Make your characters write Yelp reviews about each other. “One star. Always steals my fries. Would still die for him.” This is ridiculous, yes. But it will reveal interpersonal tension you didn’t know was there.

Tell your plot to someone who knows nothing about it—and see where they get confused. Your roommate. Your cat. Your reflection. If you can’t explain it out loud in 2 minutes, it’s probably too complicated. Simplify the heart of the story. Get clear again.

Write a flash-forward epilogue. Even if it never makes it into the book. Where do these characters end up? Who are they now? That can tell you where the real story wants to go—and help you figure out what’s missing along the way.

[mercifulstate]

⋆.˚ 𖥔˚ FUCK THIS SHIT, WANNA INDUCE THE VOID?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Listen up, you little drama queen. Wanna induce pure consciousness? Here’s the deal, you don’t need some cosmic, cryptic, mystic nonsense to figure that shit out. The void isn’t some mind-boggling, spiritual awakening you have to struggle with. It's simple. Too bad you’re making it way harder than it needs to be.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The void is simply just... You. That’s it. You’re over here drowning in your own thoughts, acting like figuring out your existence is some grand puzzle. Spoiler alert: it’s not. So stop acting like you need to crack the code, because you’re just stalling.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So how exactly do you get there? It's easy as fuck. It's not even a separate state, cause it's literally you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Step 1: Stop overthinking.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Yup, I said it. Stop fucking overthinking. You’re not some philosopher, you’re just a human with way too much going on in that brain of yours. Relax. If you’re stuck overthinking everything, guess what? You’re NOT gonna get there. So just quit it. For two seconds. Shut it down. Done.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Step 2: Let go.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ This is the part where you stop clutching onto stuff like it’s your last breath. The more you cling to the idea that you NEED to micromanage this entire shit, the more you’ll drive yourself into the ground. Let it go. Seriously. The moment you drop all that pressure, that’s when things fall into place. It’s not magic, it’s letting go.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Step 3: Assume it works.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Here’s the thing. Don’t sit there waiting for the universe to wave some cosmic wand at you. Just assume it’s already working. Tell yourself, “Yeah, I’m in control,” “I can manifest this,” or even, “I'm already in the void bitch." Don’t overthink it. You don’t need a guidebook, you just need to believe it’s happening. Don’t sit around waiting for signs. Just decide it’s happening, and it will. It’s that simple.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Why is it actually so easy?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Because you’re the one overcomplicating everything. Your brain is like a hamster on a wheel—always running, never getting anywhere. But when you just let it stop, guess what happens? You’re already there. Relax, stop being a control freak, and let it happen. The universe isn’t some game you have to figure out—it’s already giving you everything you want. You just need to stop being so dense and let it in.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Now, here’s the real talk bitch.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cut the crap. You don’t need some cosmic epiphany to make things happen. You don’t need a ritual. You don’t need a guru. You just need to stop acting like everything has to be so damn hard. Just stop. Stop overthinking, stop stressing, and start living like you actually know what you’re doing. The more you try to control everything, the more you’ll screw it up. It’s not a mystery. You’re overcomplicating the simplest thing in the world.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So, get with the program. The void’s been waiting for you. Don’t act like you’re too busy for it, ‘cause you’re not. You’ve got everything you need, but you’re the one stopping yourself. Knock it off, chill out, and let it come to you.

[deadsetobsessions]

Short DPXDC prompt #2, from @stealingyourbones.

“It’ll be good for you!” Dick threw an arm around Tim’s shoulders as he beamed his way through Gotham U’s campus.

“I could have done this online. They have virtual degrees. I could have hacked my way into one.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t get the authentic experience!”

The group arrived at the dorm building, one of many, and Damian gave it a dubious once over.

“If this is authentic, I refuse to be a part of the locals.” Damian quietly remarked, before peering cautiously at Dick. “I have obtained my degrees. I do not need this experience.”

“It’s really not that bad, guys.”

“How would you know? You went to Blüdhaven for college.” Tim retorted with the voice of a young man resigned to despair. “You lived off campus and your door pin was Zitka’s birthday, month first then date second.”

“… Tim, why the fuck do you know that.”

“When I knocked on your door, that was just common courtesy. I didn’t actually need you to open it. I could have opened it myself.”

Dick’s smile brightens even further, with the light of an LED bulb instead of his usual sun, and places a hand on Tim’s head. “You’re creepy sometimes, you know that?”

“And you’re careless sometimes, you know that?” Tim groused. “Ugh, whatever. Let’s just get this over with. I can’t believe I’m going to have a roommate.”

“It’ll be fun! And if it isn’t, you can always swap roomies. We have enough pull to have that happen.”

“Doubtlessly.” Damian said. “This campus barely passes the bar of acceptability. Why is the campus like this. Why is it incorporated into the city.”

Tim smirked. Even though Damian spoke with formal language only found in the highest of echelons of society, Jon’s influence was beginning to make itself known. Good for him, the little shit. Privately, Tim thought the presence of a Kryptonian brought out the better sides of a bat. God knows Kon did, for him.

“Okay, enough whining you two! Let’s get Tim settled in.”

Tim elbowed Dick in the gut and kept walking into the building as his big brother wheezed dramatically. Damian rolled his eyes- he’s seen Nightwing take harder hits than Drake’s pointy elbows and walk it off- and followed. Unbeknownst to them, Dick all but beamed with joy at their solidarity. His plan was working.

——

Tim settled into the dorm, disgruntled at the small and uncomfortable twin mattress. The dorm smelt of faint mildew, had at least ten safety code violations, and had ventilation that probably hasn’t been cleaned since the last fear gas attack. The vent thing honestly might explain the state of Gotham U’s students and their proclivities to become supervillains. Tim is more tempted to go into villainy than ever before with these conditions.

That is, until his roomie walked in.

Step 1) reboot brain.

Holy shit, his roomie was HOT.

Step 2) notice all the weird things his roomie all showed unconsciously. Too graceful. Walking carefully, like how Kon does sometimes when he’s remembering to be careful with his fragile surroundings. Meta? Too sharp teeth.

Wait. Sharp teeth?

“Uh, hi. I’m Danny. You must be my roommate. Tim, right?” The guy, Danny, had a deep voice. And too sharp teeth. Because he smiled. It was a damn nice smile.

Step 3) bi panic. DID TIM MENTION HE WAS HOT??

“Uh. Hi. Yeah, I’m Tim.”

“Cool. What’re you majoring in?”

“Forensic Analysis. You?”

“Aerospace engineering.”

They looked at each other awkwardly. “Cool, I’m just gonna set my stuff down.”

“You’re not from here, right?” Tim asked and promptly flushed when an amused smile gets thrown his way.

“The accent give it away?”

“Yeah. Uh. You want a tour, man?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

——

It was flashes of things.

“Oh. I don’t go anywhere without my thermos.” Danny smiled, patting the dented thing. Except, Tim’s never seen him drink from it.

Or:

“Oh, woah. Food’s not attacking me.” And the thing is, Danny actually looked apprehensive before poking at the cafeteria food.

What??

And a month passes before Tim realizes he’s one hundred percent absolutely fucked.

Because it’s one thing if it’s an extremely attractive dork with brains and humor.

It’s an entirely different thing if the extremely attractive dork with brains and humor was a complete and total mystery. Tim is an absolute sucker for mysteries. It’s even more attractive than smacking him in the face with a brick!

“Hey, Tim?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Tim screamed at himself. He’s dated like fifteen different people! Why the hell is he so awkward with Danny?

(Tim was always awkward. He has that autistic rizz.)

“Tell me more about blood splatters?” Danny asked with a hopeful smile. Tim folded like wet paper. (It helps that he knows a lot- too much- about analyzing blood splatters.)

——

Outside of their window, Nightwing cackled to himself. It was worth using the Wayne name to get Tim the most interesting college kid Dick could find as a roommate. Who said Tim had the market corner on stalking anyways?

Nightwing flipped off of the roof, all but skipping home.

Robin, his patrol partner for the night, grimaced. For all Richard was his favorite, the man unsettled him at times.

[cosmicsimsi]

Why You Shouldn’t Use GShade

Even after two years, I still see people using GShade and claiming it's a safe program, when it’s really not! There are already some older Tumblr posts about this, but I figured it’s worth refreshing the issue.

So please read this

Around two years ago, GShade’s developer added a code that could forcefully shut down your computer, not because of a bug or security measure, but on purpose. Why? Because he was mad that someone, specifically a 16-year-old made an alternative way to install GShade without using the official updater. Instead of handling it professionally, the dev decided to add a malicious code as "punishment" for anyone trying to modify GShade. That’s malware behavior.

(The first spark) ↓

At that time you also HAD to update Gshade to unistall it. ↓

(Developers "Apology") ↓

Now, you might be thinking, “Okay, but that was patched out, so it’s fine now, right?” Nope. Because the biggest issue isn’t just what he did, it’s the fact that he still thinks he did nothing wrong.

The Problem with Closed-Source Software Like GShade

GShade is closed-source, meaning no one except the developer can see or verify what’s actually in the code. This is a issue when dealing with someone who has already abused their control over the software.

With open-source programs (like ReShade), anyone can look at the code, verify it’s safe, and contribute to improving it. If something shady is added, people can catch it immediately. But with GShade, you have to just trust that the dev isn’t hiding anything malicious. And considering his past actions, that’s a massive risk to take.

Even if GShade is "safe" right now, nothing is stopping the dev from adding another backdoor, data collection, or something even worse in the future. Since no one can see the code, you wouldn’t know until it was too late. And given that he still defends his actions, there’s every reason to believe he’d do something similar again.

“But I’ve Never Had Issues With GShade”

A lot of people say GShade runs better than ReShade or has better effects. That might be true, but no amount of quality or convenience is worth putting your computer at risk. Just because something hasn’t caused problems yet doesn’t mean it won’t in the future. Malicious code can be slipped in at any time, and because it’s closed-source, no one would be able to warn you.

And honestly? You shouldn’t be using software made by someone who has already proven they’re willing to mess with your computer. If a developer intentionally inserts harmful code once, they can do it again.

What Should You Use Instead?

There’s a safe and open-source alternative: ReShade

It’s free and open-source, meaning the community can review the code to ensure it’s safe.

It can do almost everything GShade does, and while it may take some tweaking, it’s worth the effort.

Most GShade presets can be converted to work with ReShade with a bit of adjustment.

There are guides available to help transition from GShade to ReShade Here is one: How To Move To ReShade From GShade

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, it’s your computer, and you can do whatever you want with it. But if you choose to keep using GShade, just be aware of the risks you’re taking. The dev has already demonstrated that he’s willing to sabotage people’s computers when he feels like it. He still thinks he was justified. And because GShade is closed-source, he has complete control over what’s in the code without anyone being able to check.

So ask yourself: Is that really the kind of software you want to trust?

ReShade is a safer, open-source alternative that doesn’t put you at risk.

Thank you for reading

Here are some links that discusses the whole topic:

Twitter

Reddit

The persons Blog the code was directed at

[5sospenguinqueen]

Talk About A Celebration | Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Fans are endeared by your relationship with Franco. Although, it doesn’t take long to discover that his announcement to F1 had more exciting results for the long-term couple

Warnings: Fluff. Pregnancy. Suggesitve comments. Had to adjust the timeline slightly to make this work 

Requested: Yes by anon

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

AUG 2024

williamsracing just posted

liked by francolapinto, f1 and others

williamsracing franco colapinto to race for the reminder of the 2024 season, alongside alex albon

20,234 comments

its_yn if anyone can hear screaming, yes, that is me

user1 i cannot wait for everyone to finally understand how great y/n is 

→ user2 i can. i fear we need to gatekeep franco and y/n

francolapinto thank you so much for this opportunity 

→ its_yn don’t pretend to be calm. you’re going to meet THE lewis hamilton. i know you’re freaking out inside

→ user3 who is this and why is she all over the post 

→ user4 oh dear. we have to deal with the f1 girlies not knowing who y/n is 

alex_albon welcome to the team! 

user5 where have williams been hiding him?! 

user6 oh, well hello there

officialmpmotorsport they’re your problem now

→ user7 what does this mean?

→ its_yn rude 

user8 i was upset when i heard logan was being replaced but i think i might be able to forgive this

lilymhe @/its_yn i cannot wait to have another williams girl to gossip with 

→ its_yn i can’t wait to have a conversation with someone that isn’t about tyres

→ francolapinto you said you loved my tyre talk :(

user9 quick update for those who don’t follow f2. y/n is franco’s girlfriend. has been since they were 15. no, she’s not a gold digger. no, she’s not with him because he’s an f1 driver. and the biggest no, he will not date you because he is down bad for his girl

its_yn just posted

liked by alex_albon, olliebearman and others

its_yn my baby is finally an f1 driver! i’m so proud of you, franco. this is everything you’ve dreamed of 🩵

9,789 comments

francolapinto i love you so much cariño

francolapinto i can’t wait to celebrate with you later ;) 

→ williamsracing we’re going to have to media train you, aren’t we?

→ user10 no! don’t take him away from us 

user11 not her posting the most boyfriend coded pics of him

dennis_hauger i’m just so glad it means i escape having pics of me taken whilst i nap

→ its_yn oh, hun. i will literally see you in monza

→ dennis_hauger crap

user12 i acc can’t wait to watch y/n terrorise the f1 grid like she did the f2 grid 

→ its_yn i didn’t terrorise anyone. i was making friends

olliebearman i thought i was getting rid of you! why are you following me

→ francolapinto don’t be like that. i know you missed me

→ user13 i’ve seen enough. get this man a seat for 2025

alex_albon i’m not sure i want you in the garage anymore. it sounds like you terrorise teammates

→ lilymhe i’m so excited! 

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SEP 2024

williamsracing just posted

liked by francolapinto, charles_leclerc and others

williamsracing scored his first ever points in formula 1, in only his second race. ladies and gentleman, franco colapinto

13,432 comments

user1 okay but the way he kissed y/n and spun her around after he come out of parc ferme

user2 franco has been serving this weekend. both with boyfriend material and points

→ user3 yes! the way he’s had a hand on y/n all weekend? we love a protective boyfriend 

its_yn what an amazing day for our williams boys! 

→ lilymhe my ears are still ringing from your screams

→ its_yn don’t act like you weren’t jumping up and down with me

→ francolapinto you were jumping?! you promised to rest

user4 i had my doubts but this little flirt has blown me away

user5 i’ve seen enough. franco colapinto for wdc 2025 liked by its_yn

alex_albon i’m still deeply hurt that you won’t come out and celebrate with us

→ francolapinto yes, but y/n won’t be drinking tonight so we wouldn’t be much fun

→ its_yn oh yeah, blame me. i’m the fun sucker 

→ user6 i bet she’ll be sucking something tonight liked by francolapinto

user7 franco is so unhinged and i love him for it

user8 i can’t believe franco isn’t able to celebrate his points because his gf said so 

→ user9 actually, i don’t think she’s very well and franco is taking care of her, like a caring boyfriend does

→ user10 yeah apparently she was throwing up before the race 

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JAN 2025

its_yn just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and others

its_yn baby colapinto coming to a paddock near you in may 2025 

10,234 comments

user1 she is so iconic haha 

user2 omg she’s pregnant?! i just died 

user3 literal mother

williamsracing congratulations, you two! putting in a request for baby headphones right now

user4 every time these two post, i’m reminded of how chronically single i am

→ user5 because imagine falling in love at 15 and then being with that one person for life 

→ user6 poor girl has never had another dick

→ francolapinto and she never will! 

lilymhe this post has been up for two minutes and i’ve already bought 5 baby things

→ alex_albon she’s not joking

→ user7 alex and lily taking uncle/aunt role seriously 

user8 wait, if she’s due in may, that means she’s currently 5 months pregnant

→ user8 which means she got pregnant in august. what happened in august? colapinto’s f1 seat was announced! 

→ user9 aha it’s a celebration baby 

→ its_yn @/francolapinto i told you they’d figure it out. they put it together when kevin got pole 

user10 omg! franco is gonna be a dilf 

→ francolapinto @/its_yn pay up

→ its_yn you’re not hot enough to be a dilf

→ francolapinto that’s not what you said when i was getting you pregnant 

→ williamsracing you know, now that you’re with us for the 2025 season, we’re going to have to media train you

francolapinto just posted

liked by logansargeant, kimi.antonelli and others

francolapinto not long now 

17,436 comments

alex_albon can’t believe it’s a boy. poor y/n has to deal with two of you 

→ francolapinto if it isn’t broken, no need to fix it 

officialmpmotorsport what do you mean williams get to enjoy baby colapinto and we don’t? give him back! 

user1 the kiss with the blue background? cinematic masterpiece

→ its_yn thank you. i’ve been training him since he was 15. he’s still a work in progress though

→ francolapinto oi! 

user2 y/n gives off such boy mom vibes

→ its_yn that’s because i’ve been trying to talk franco out of danger for years 

williamsracing cake? you’re supposed to be staying in shape! 

→ francolapinto i’ve been doing a lot of cardio 

→ user3 yeah, we all know what that means, sir

its_yn i’m still mad at you for scooping your cake out faster than i did

→ francolapinto i’m sorry! i got too excited and i moved as soon as you said go

→ user4 oh bless him. his super fast reaction time got him into trouble

→ its_yn his lack of super fast reaction time is what got me pregnant 

→ williamsracing we saw that! media training for you too

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its_yn just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, dennis_hauger and others

its_yn matias william colapinto

10,034 comments

alex_albon oh wow. are you sure that baby is half franco? he’s too cute 

→ its_yn well, i did all the work

user5 did franco pick his middle name?

→ its_yn yes -_-

→ williamsracing we approve

→ francolapinto come on, they are the reason we have the baby

user6 milf y/n! 

→ its_yn finally! 

lewishamilton congratulations mum and dad. he’s adorable

→ its_yn @/francolapinto i heard you scream from the other side of the house

→ user7 i love how he’s been on the grid for months now and become a father but still hasn’t gotten over his awe for lewis 

user8 i sense a franco colapinto maiden win coming this year with his new lucky charm

→ user9 and with it another baby haha

→ its_yn no, thank you

→ francolapinto yes, please

user10 franco about to make his own f1 grid liked by francolapinto

→ its_yn franco! stop liking all these posts about more babies! 

→ francolapinto can we practice at least? 

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requests open! (but slow)

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty

[youryurigoddess]

Hungry for Good Omens 3 crumbs of information? Let’s see what I’ve found and speculate a bit about cast members, filming locations, and… trees! As always, please tag accordingly, share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers, and get yourself something to drink since it’s going to be a longer read.

News flash: both Ned Dennehy (well-known to Good Omens fans as Hastur) and Sean Pertwee (recently revealed to star in the Finale as Brian Cameron) admitted to have been working on location in Tenerife during the film’s production time slot (January and early February, respectively). In Dennehy’s case, even providing a rather intimately close look at his character.

The location alone isn’t particularly surprising, as the Canary Islands and Tenerife in particular are currently experiencing an influx of international productions, including several TV shows by global streamers, making use of the favourable weather and prices. But Dennehy’s post, additionally liked by a Good Omens crew member, seems somewhat suggestive.

In the Instagram story above, Sean Pertwee called 14 January 2025 his last day on the shoot in Tenerife and subsequently traveled to London and Edinburgh, from where he shared another video three weeks later.

Now, technically the Tenerife film set could be a part of Pertwee’s NCIS: Tony & Ziva job he started last autumn. However, that would imply that he plays a greater role in the upcoming production than the currently available promotional materials imply, and the location stamp in the bottom right corner, Drago Milenario, is too deliciously Good Omens coded to overlook it.

It isn’t even a place, really, but a living organism. A plant. A tree.

Meet Drago Milenario, also know as El Drago, a natural monument and symbol of Tenerife. The oldest and largest living specimen of the endemic Dracaena draco (dragon tree), it is said to be a thousand years old and stand at 18 metres high with a 20-metre perimeter. “Great big bugger,” as Aziraphale would say.

There has been much debate over the age of the tree, and some even say that it may be over 5000 years old; more recent estimates seem more conservative and suggest that El Drago is no more than 800 to 1000 years old. It is difficult to say unambiguously, because the traditional method of counting rings is not applicable in this case — dracaena has no rings.

Its home, the Millennial Dragon Tree Park, or Parque del Drago, in Icod de los Vinos, is a sacred place and a burial zone of Tenerife’s original inhabitants, the Guanches. Members of the Guanche people venerated El Drago as a divine tree; a symbol of wisdom and fertility, believed to have magical powers, granting longevity and warding off evil spirits. Its blood-red oil or sap is called dragon's blood and historically used to treat wounds and embalm corpses. According to local legends, that’s because slain dragons don’t actually die, but rather turn into dragon trees like this one.

The dragon part of the story sounds objectively cool, but if we overlook it for a second, we might notice why the connection to Good Omens is so strong here. When asked about trees in the show’s context, one’s first point of reference is quite naturally the Garden of Eden scene and the shot above featuring the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The thing is, it wasn’t the only one.

According to the Bible, the very reason why Aziraphale was even stationed in Eden (possibly with a few other armed angels) was to protect the Garden from the newly exiled humans. More specifically, his “apple duty” meant that he was supposed to guard a very particular and yet unseen tree:

“The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them. And the Lord God said, ‘The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of lifeand eat, and live forever.’ So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the Tree of Life.” (Genesis 3:21-24)

In the apocryphal Apocalypse of Moses, the tree of life is also called the Tree of Mercy. Adam, the first human, famously sent his son Seth and wife Eve back to the gates of the Garden to beg God and His angels for some oil of the Tree of Life to save him from his deathbed by granting either full immortality or longer lifespan. They were obviously denied, but in another part of the Bible — the Book of Revelation, on which most of the official Good Omens plot is based, Jesus announces the details of His Second Coming, including who and when will get the right to enjoy this forbidden fruit:

“Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to reward each one as his work deserves. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life, and may enter the city by the gates. (Revelation 22:12-14)

The Catholic Church in particular believes that the Tree of Life mentioned above is the Eucharist and often combines the image of the Tree with the Cross of Christ, both literally and figuratively (see above: The Tree of Life printed by John Hagerty, 1791) granting the immortal life to His Chosen Ones:

And he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street. On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. There will no longer be any curse; and the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His bond-servants will serve Him; they will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illuminate them; and they will reign forever and ever. (Revelation 1-5)

In his Roll Play BAFTA interview published on 10 February 2025, while talking about his work for the Good Omens Finale, David Tennant himself has specifically referred to the possibility of Aziraphale and Crowley spending eternity together. But where? Well.

The visual symbolism of an apple tree seems so important for the Good Omens 3 plot that it’s even represented on the exclusive mug design shared on 30 April by one of everyone’s favourite production crew spouses, Carla Scott Fullerton (fullercoaching on Instagram):

For those who missed the original discussion, the reverse side of the complimentary mug gifted to Good Omens 3 crew members and depicted above contains a photo of slate number 100, scene 59 of the production with a quote “We’ve come to a decision…”. A typical feature film of this length consists of around 60 scenes, so it’s definitely the ending or one of the scenes directly preceding it.

Which means that the story ends, as it began, in a garden. And with a very specific apple tree, adorned with initials AZ and CR in two little hearts as hinted by the drawing in the background.

There’s a specific crew member though — one of the firsts to be confirmed for the upcoming production, actually — that has shared a Good Omens themed work with an apple tree a whole year earlier.

Here you can see Michael Ralph’s (i.e., Good Omens production designer’s) concept art depicting Neil Gaiman’s version of heaven on earth – “Heaven is a Library” – at LA music venue, The Wiltern, for The Art of Elysium’s Heaven 2024 charity gala. It’s got Va Va Voom yellow walls, red carpet, spiral stairs, a centrally located oculus, and lots of plants with an apple tree with a swing in the middle. In case this image wasn’t suggestive enough, it’s worth to focus on the twin display tables with Cupid statues on top, direct copies of the one from A. Z. Fell and Co. bookshop in Soho.

It’s not even subtle — and wasn’t meant to be, considering how Event Eleven, the creative agency behind the gala, typically organises high budget premiere events and promotional campaigns for Amazon Prime TV shows, and to this day it’s the closest we’ve got to a Good Omens 3 public celebration.

While this one was for charity and officially not affiliated with the studio, it took place only three weeks after the official announcement of Good Omens 3 and involved not only this curious simulacrum of Aziraphale’s bookshop as a setting, but also Jon Hamm on stage as the guest of honour, referencing the co-leads of the TV series and reciting an excerpt from the 1990 novel in an approximation of their characters’ voices, and the Ukrainian artist Katya Zvereva was commissioned to make an installation for the gala called literally “Tree of Life” (above).

If you remember my bookshop meta, you will probably find the official explanation of the event’s theme particularly interesting:

“Heaven is two things that are, perhaps, the same thing. Heaven is both a library, the place where we go for knowledge, wisdom, advice and for stories, and heaven is also a refuge, somewhere that we can go, whoever we are, for safety and protection. Heaven contains librarians and refugees, shelters the helpless, and gives them — us — somewhere quiet to sit and read or listen.”

Not incidentally, the only iteration of the Tree of Life in the actual show so far has been built into the layout of Aziraphale’s bookshop (left). Its Kabbalah depiction (right) is a representation of the entirety of creation, composed of ten spheres — referred to as the Sephiroth/Sefirot as a whole — each denoting a universal quality, such as wisdom or beauty. To quote The Golden Dawn: The Original Account of the Teachings, Rites, and Ceremonies of the Hermetic Order by Israel Regardie:

This altar diagram shows the Ten Sephiroth with all the connecting Paths numbered and lettered, and the Serpent winding over each Path. Around each Sephirah are written the Names of the Deity, Archangel and Angelic Host attributed to it. The Twenty Two Paths are bound together by the Serpent of Wisdom. It unites the Paths but does not touch any of the Sephiroth, which are linked by the Flaming Sword. The Flaming Sword is formed by the natural order of the Tree of Life. It resembles a flash of Lightning. Together the Sephiroth and the Twenty Two Paths form the 32 Paths of the Sepher Yetzirah or Book of Formation. The Two pillars on either side of the Altar represent:

1. Active: The White Pillar on the South Side. Male. Adam. Pillar of Light and Fire. Right Kerub. Metatron.

2. Passive: The Black Pillar on the North Side. Female. Eve. Pillar of Cloud. Left Kerub. Sandalphon.

[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

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[pyjamatranslation]

A Match Being Struck

Plot: Accidental bed sharing on a night shift

A/N: I know this is crazy but I couldn't help it. 1.4K. It's PG-ish.

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

You cracked open the door of the on-call room.

“Robby?” you called into the dark room.  The slice of light spilling in from the hall cut across his face causing him to groan and roll away from the light.

“Close the door,” he pleaded.  You had questions about a few patients so you stepped in and closed the door, blinking at the total darkness.  Making your way slowly over to the bed, hand out to catch yourself, you found the edge and turned to lean against it.  The relief you felt made you wonder when you sat down last.  You were both pulling a double to cover a shortage in the ED tonight. 

You’d been on your feet all shift and then some.  Was that why Robby was always telling the med students to sit bedside?  Pulling the phone from your scrubs, you ran your patient care by Robby and texted replies to the staff’s questions about your patients, sending new orders for meds and tests.  Done now, you told yourself to stand up and go take your break in the break room but your body didn’t listen.  An idea formed and you didn’t know if it was your night-shift brain but it didn’t feel like the craziest idea.  You moved your hand further on the cot and didn’t encounter Robby.  He really must have rolled away from the light.  You could lie down for a minute and then you’d be good to get up and go.  Maybe not even a minute, just 30 seconds to trick yourself into thinking you’d rested.  

“Robby?” you whispered into the dark.  No reply.  He was dead to the world.  He’d never know. 

You shifted silently, laying down, and sighing at the huge comfort that came from the thin cot.  You started counting to stick to your 30 second limit.  You were out before the count of ten.  

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

The door opened briefly, someone looking for a place to take a break but finding the room occupied.  As the bright hospital lights and noise seeped into the room, you turned your face into the pillow to hide from it.  Robby had the same idea except he snuggled into your neck.  The scratch of his beard against your skin was like a match being struck.  You squirmed as the spark spread like a wildfire which made him tighten his hold on you. You took inventory of all the places most scorched that you knew you’d have trouble forgetting long after the fires had cooled.  Your breath hitched as you became hyper-aware of his hands: the one that slipped under your scrub top and splayed across your skin, the other tucked between your bent knees, warm against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.  

“Normally my work dreams are pure stress,” he mumbled against your skin.  You suppressed a groan at the way you could feel his voice rumble through his chest and yours.  You were never going to be able to look him in the eye ever again.  

“Dr. Robby, this isn’t a dream.” Your heart started pounding as you panicked about how you’ll explain this.  He laughed lightly,

“Sure, I just have my hands on a coworker in the middle of a shift, in some very soft and warm places.”  He moved his hands slowly, sliding one across your torso, the other along your inner thigh.  You swore as his hand inched closer to the pulsing between your legs.  You were going to combust from the lust coursing through your veins and constricting your chest.  He was going to have to call a code blue any second.  The phone in your scrubs’ pocket chimed, playing out an alarm tone, and cutting through the dreamy haze in the on-call room. You fumbled for it, squinting at the bright screen to turn it off.  Robby tensed and said,

“Oh, fuck,” before pulling his hands off you and rolling onto his back.  Free of him now, you sat up, hoping to reorient yourself firmly in the real world.  It wasn’t any easier to breath without his touch.  Your chest was still tight, heavier now at the realization you just discovered the most wonderful thing in the world and might never feel it again.   

“I’m so sorry, I was just going to rest for a second. I didn’t think—” Oh God, you sounded like a crazy person.  Who climbs into bed with their superior?

“You didn’t think I’d grab you and hold you hostage.  Jesus Christ,” his hands were over his face, “I’m sorry.”

“Not a hostage,” you insisted.  He was spiralling.  You tried reassuring him but he just kept muttering about hostages and how the hospital administrator Gloria was going to kill him.  Nothing you said got through to him.  You’d broken Dr. Robby.  He tried to sit up, his hand finding your thigh instead of the cot,

“Christ," he groaned, "why are you so soft?” Heat climbed up your neck at his rhetorical question.  

Your phone dinged again, a message about your patient.  Your break was over and you needed to get back out there.  You tapped out a reply, and looked at him in the harsh glow of your phone’s screen light.

“This was my fault,” you said. “I climbed into bed with an unsuspecting attending.  You didn’t even know who was in here with you, a warm body to curl up against.  It could’ve happened to anyone.”  He shook his head.

“I knew it was you.”  Your heartbeat, that has semi-settled to a normal rhythm, sky-rocketed at his words. 

“What?” you asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know if it’s a perfume or your laundry detergent or a shampoo, but I can apparently identify you in the dark.” He ran his hands over his head, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”  You stood, fighting the sudden instinct to crawl into his lap, and jump his bones.  You needed distance.  Hand on the doorknob now, you noted the cold of the metal and wondered how warm his skin would’ve felt.  You should have just left, but you paused to say,

“Please stop apologizing, I liked it.”  With that, you stepped into the hallway and closed the door on an unexpected and potential life-upending lapse in professionalism.  

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

The rest of the shift passed slowly.  You saw him a few times, each time causing a flare up of feelings you tried to smother.  He helped you with a couple of patients and you were painfully aware of how close he was to you.  Had he always done that?  Were you just noticing it now?  You lost track of the conversation a few times watching his hands as he treated his patients.  They showed no reaction near the one you'd had when he'd touched you.  And the eye contact?  Had his eyes always found yours across a hallway or the ED like that?  He shouldn’t be allowed have such big sad tired brown eyes.  You looked away from him now, unable to take it.  Not for the first time today you wondered if you were having a heart attack.  You couldn’t quite catch your breath.  It was going to be embarrassing if they needed to use the crash cart and if the autopsy determined cause of death to be eye contact.

You swung by the nursing station to see where you were headed next, trying to ignore Dr. Robby sitting at a computer in your peripheral.  You starred harder at the board when you noticed he’d stopped typing and looked over.  You could feel his gaze on you like the ghosts of his hands from earlier.  You had a feeling they’d haunt you forever.  He held a chart out to you and you walked over to see it.  As you were reading it over, he said,  

“After shift, I’m going to grab breakfast and sleep the day away.  Care to join me?”  Your breath hitched at the invitation, embers from earlier simmering at the thought.

“For breakfast?” You clarified, squinting to make it seem like maybe you hadn’t heard him right.  Maybe he just meant breakfast. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his head, watching you carefully, 

“Yeah, or both.”  You bit your lip to keep from smiling.  This middle-aged man was going to be the death of you.  You leaned closer over the counter and lowered your voice,

“Full disclosure: if we’d spent another minute in the on-call room, I’d have had my hands all over you.”  You watched the colour bloom across his face until he was near-red at your confession.  “Am I still invited for both?”  He nodded, unable to do more as he fought a wave of feelings he’d been drowning in all day.  

[m00ntunaart]

Mandalorian characters as Wings Of Fire dragons? Uh, YES PLEASE.

Welcome to stage 5 of "MoonTuna draws the most self indulgent nonsense that no one asked for".

But anyways, yeah! My rambling thoughts on the characters and this AU:

Din Djarin (NightWing):

I imagine Din as NightWing because in this AU I picture the Death Watch/Children Of The Watch as the NightWing Tribe. And after the Death Watch’s war against the other Mandalorians, they go into hiding on the volcano island (like the NightWings do in the WOF books).

And Din is the tribe’s Beroya (Hunter), so he’s one of the few selected from the tribe to leave the island through the hidden tunnels to go back to Pyrrhia to hunt food for the tribe. 

During one of these trips I imagine he find Grogu! Who in this AU is a human (scavenger)! Because if everyone is dragons in this AU, then it just makes sense that Grogu is the human instead lol. Plus then Grogu is still small enough to be in a satchel Din carries around, like in the show.

But Grogu still has his Jedi powers in this AU. Which has never been seen before in humans. Thus ‘The Mandalorian’ type shenanigans where Din takes Grogu around trying to figure out WTH is up with this infant human.

(Also side note: in this AU I still picture there being Jedi/force sensitive dragons (the Jedi Order probably works similar to The Jade Mountain Academy. Where the Jedi are from all the tribes and live in the Jade Mountain. 

Also in this AU NightWings DO have their mind reading/future seeing powers. But like in the books, they loose them once they move to the island and don’t know why.

ALSO ALSO Animus still exists! But they work more like Force Sensitive where it’s just born in some dragons, and isn’t necessarily hereditary. And it’s SUPER rare. So rare that many believe Animus’s don’t exist. (I imagine Anakin Skywalker is the first Animus in centuries))

Cobb Vanth (Sand Wing):

Cobb is super straight forward. He’s a SandWing because he’s a cowboy from Tatooine. Of course he’s SandWing. Though in this AU I imagine he’s a lot like Thorn from the books, in that he’s the Marshal/leader of a town (Freetown) in the desert that isn’t under the Sand Kingdom’s rule. Also I imagine he’s one of the first dragons Din meets when he goes out on his journey to find information on Grogu. (Since the tunnels from the NightWing Island to the Rain Forest to the Sand Kingdom are all connected basically).

Boba Fett (MudWing):

Okay so Boba just had to be a MudWing. He had to be. Though it was less because of Boba’s character and more because he’s a clone. The clones all being close to each other, having battalions, and calling each other brothers? Uh, that’s like MudWings in the books to a TEA. So yeah, the clone troopers in this AU are MudWings, hence Boba also is a MudWing lol. Though I also liked it because older Boba Fett (and the older clones we see in the shows) are a lot bulkier and muscled with age. They get DILF bodies is what I’m saying lol (except for like Hunter apparently, he gets to keep his twink dad body). So the big MudWing body type works well for Boba and the clones. 

Fennec Shand (RainWing):

Fennec to me was a RainWing MOSTLY because as an assassin, her being able to camouflage and make herself look like other dragons was super RainWing coded. Plus having the subtle but deadly RainWing venom just matched her energy so much. Plus I love the idea that Fennec is kinda a “outcast” in RainWing society. Her ‘resting’ colors are dark, she knows how to fight and kill and LIKES it. She left the Rain Forest because the RainWing life style was nothing like her personality (very Glory from WOF like). Plus it plays into the idea that no one expects her to be dangerous or competent because she’s a RainWing, and then she murders you violently while still looking like a goddess (is my Fennec love showing yet? lol). Plus it’s why she and Boba get along, he treats her from the start like the dangerous criminal she is, and not like some ditsy RainWing. Also idk how Boba and Fennec taking over Jabba the Hutt’s palace works in this AU, but if so Fennec is definitely the one mainly running the show from behind the scenes. She was born to micromanage.

[bluebirdsfeathers]

Her Intern

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Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: You get a look into what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Wanda’s temper, but she could never be mad at you.

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), mention of stocks, Yelling if that stresses you out.

A/N: Wanted this to be longer but I’m starting class again on Monday and I’ve had way more work to do than I thought. Hope you enjoy this. I’ve tagged everyone who asked, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know.

Inspiration

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

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──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

The silence in the room made every minuet feel like an eternity. No one dared to speak. You could feel your pulse rise as the clock hand inched closer to the number nine. This morning you had gotten ready on auto piolet, showered and once again put on your wrinkled shirt. You hadn’t bothered investing in any new clothing since you began working with Pietro. The lack of dress code made you feel like it wasn’t necessary, so this was still your most professional shirt. It was the same one you’d worn your first day here, now you worried this would be your last.

Sleep hadn’t come fast last night. You’d stayed up for hours running possible situations and outcomes, planning what you’d say for each one in excruciating detail. But by the time morning came all those preparations were gone from your mind. The only thing you could focus on was the memory of Wanda catching you in her office.

She looked so angry.

You blinked away the sting in your eyes and nose, not wanting to cry, not now at least. That could wait till after the meeting, when you could lock yourself in the bathroom away from prying eyes.

The clock reached nine and the doors to the conference room flung open, Wanda entered leaving the door to slam shut behind her. Everyone in the room sat up straight and turned their attention to the red head, everyone but you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, instead keeping your head down hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

“Good morning,” Wanda began as she retrieved some papers from her briefcase, “I know I’m taking you away from your work, but I wouldn’t have called this meeting if there wasn’t something important that needs to be discussed.” Her tone was polite, but anger was bubbling underneath. As she finished speaking her eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on you. Wanda faced twitched with annoyance at fact you weren’t looking at her. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Once I have everyone’s attention, I’ll tell you why you’re all here, or better why one of you isn’t.”

You took the hint and slowly raised your head, not expecting to find Wanda staring directly at you, stern eyes softening for a moment before hardening back over. Her words finally reached your brain, and you glanced quickly around table, the other interns seemingly doing the same.

Theo.

Theo wasn’t there. He hadn’t come in with Wanda, which was strange considering how he’d normally be following her around like a lost dog.

“I expect you to already know this, but Westview Paper is the most trusted news sources in the country,” Wanda paced at the front of the room, her voice and posture portraying nothing but power. “We take pride in being able to provide the American public with honest unbiased reporting. So what do you think might happen if an employee threatened that reputation?” She was now stood directly behind you; the room was so silent you could hear your heart as it raced.

“They would be fired.” The silence was broken by an intern sat across from you. Despite his suit probably being worth more than you all make a month, it fit him like a kid playing dress up in his dad's wardrobe, and he looked like he’d just been caught. Wanda let his words hang in the air for an uncomfortably long time.

“Yes, thank you Jake. They would be fired.” As Wanda moved back to the front of the room her fingers ghosted the nape of your neck, something so innocuous it could have easily been an accident. “Theo had gone behind my back, fed information about stories we were publishing to outsiders, and all to boost his stock portfolio.” Her voice dripped with distain. “He is no longer working here, in fact, he will no longer be working for any publisher this side of the Atlantic Ocean.” She gave her words time to breath, making sure we all understood the gravity of the situation. Your mind went back to yesterday, standing in her office when she came out angrily yelling down the phone, that’s what she was talking about.

“Now I called this meeting as a warning to all of you. You aren’t children anymore, this is the real world, your actions have consequences that go far beyond timeouts, or early bedtimes. So if any of you even think about trying anything that will tarnish the reputation of this organization, I want you to really consider what it means to throw your life away! A life that, I might add, for most in here was handed to them.” With every sentence her voice grew louder, the anger finally bubbling over as she slammed her fits onto the table. Wanda stood up straight and adjusted her blazer, "You may leave." Her word was final.

There was a mad scramble for the door as everyone collected their things and piled out the room.

“Y/n, I want to have a word with you.” Wanda called out with a lingering trace of rage. The other interns turned to look at you as you awkwardly shuffled back from the door. Your anxiety was already high and now you truly felt like you were going to combust. It took a moment for the room to clear but once it had, and the door closed you jumped into your apologies.

“Ms Maximoff, I’m so sorry, Pietro said it was okay, not that it’s his fault, I should have never invaded your privacy like that.” The word vomit just kept coming. “I was just meant to drop off the magazine and leave, I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I’m so sorry, I understand if you want to fire me.” With those last words your lip wobbled, and you could do nothing to stop the tears.

Wanda, who up until now had been watching you ramble with slight bewilderment, moved to comfort you. “Y/n. I’m not going to fire you, don’t be silly,” she shushed, placing a hand on your shoulder and motioning for you to sit down, “quite the opposite actually.” You sat down trying your hardest to steady your breathing. “What do you mean?” You asked, wiping your nose with your sleeve before Wanda instinctively handed you a tissue from the box on the table.

“First, I wanted to ask if you were okay.” She leaned in placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Yesterday, in my office, you left so quickly. I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Yes, y/n! I was because…” Wanda stopped herself and leaned back in her chair. “Because you are my employee, and I think you have a promising future here at Westview.” You go to speak but Wanda continues, “Which is why secondly, I wanted to ask if you would be interested in taking over as my intern. I can give you some time to think about…”

“Yes!” You blurted out a little louder than expected, your cheeks flushed as you saw Wanda’s shocked expression. “I mean yes Ms… I would… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. It’s just… are you sure you want me?” Before you could start to spiral again, you were brought back to reality by the sound of Wanda giggling.

“I’ve wanted you from the start.” She stood up and began walking to the conference room’s door. “For the position of course.” She added before leaving.

As you sat alone in the room you couldn’t help it as a smile crept across your face. You were going to be her intern! Then the reality of the situation hit you. You were going to be her intern.

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