#computer expiriments

[dimalink]

Q4OS – I setup for myself Linux with Trinity

I setup a Linux for myself. For not powerful system. With my Acer Extensa. It has two cores with 1.5 ghz. And 4gb of ram. I select in result – Q4OS. As light Linux. For not powerful systems. With its own graphic environment. It is easier, lighter. It has a name Trinity. Firm development from system’s authors. Special for this purpose – to system not to require lots of resources. And it is very good for me.

With author`s website you to download distributive. It is written with flash as a boot. One little moment, check carefully. There are, also, Live CD images. It is for run system from device. Like flash or compact disk. And, there are for setup, install. So, for install, you need this version to download. I was not accurate and first, download Live Cd. And, I see – I cannot find option to install. But, you can run system at once! I was surprised. I see what is it. And, I start to understand, what is it all about.

Installation process. It is simple and easy. Nothing tricky. Nothing hard. This is good. Installation is friendly to the user. We are moving with steps of installation. And after - system, at last, launching. It is, already, installed. It is good to check updates. What is here. All is automatically checked by itself. It has a name packages for Linux. Lists with packages. You just need to start a certain purpose program. This means network is required. Without internet you cannot to do updates.

And, later, with manager packages. You start it and see what it can show you. So, it has lots of different. I am not expert with Linux. I take it as a probe. I setup for myself a whole pack, preset for packages. Little game. It is Chocolate Doom with some pack. So, this is not only Chocolate Doom. And, also, some files included. To have all included. So, it includes FreeDoom. And this is comfortable! So, you can start to play at once. To play. Levels for FreeDoom are unique. Even, its own graphics. But, mainly, it is same Doom.

Once again, I am not expert with Linux. And, better say, I try to try this with my own. But funny thing it is. Installer is looking like it is MS DOS.  So, it has such install line. And, system itself. It reminds Windows. Level Windows Xp or even like Windows 98, maybe. Such background, similar color. And windows forms.

Interesting moment! Visually, I like a lot this Trinity scheme for desktop. About functions it is very good. I am very surprised. There are lots of things here. And main - there package manager. Using it to update. And install. And this is comfortable. For start – it is good way.

Visual side looks like something Windows 98 with plus. I like a lot this visual side. Functions are good. And now it is my first launch. ��I little about to play Doom.  I visit websites with browser. First launch was successful! And positive!

iron (hardware) and programs. From time to time i restore computers, retro computers. Try retro soft. Check some programs. And write about all of these.

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/

[ramenwithbroccoli]

it's a crime that i don't know how to code. i need to make a robot game NOW!!!!!

[cups-official]

man I just don't get what's so confusing about pointers

[gothhabiba]

🍉🇵🇸 eSims for Gaza masterpost 🇵🇸🍉

Which eSims are currently being called for?

Connecting Humanity is calling for:

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG

Simly (“Palestine” plan)

Gaza Online is calling for:

Holafly (“Israel” and “Egypt” plans): code HOLACNG

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG (can now be used multiple times from the same email)

Airalo (“Middle East and North Africa” plan)

Sparks (“Israel” plan)

Numero (“Egypt” plan)

For Connecting Humanity: if you sent an eSim more than two weeks ago and it is still valid and not yet activated, reply to the email in which you originally sent the eSim. To determine whether the eSim is still valid, scan the QR code with a smartphone; tap the yellow button that reads “Cellular plan”; when a screen comes up reading “Activate eSIM,” click the button that says “Continue.” If a message comes up reading “eSIM Cannot Be Added: This code is no longer valid. Contact your carrier for more information,” the eSim is activated, expired, or had an error in installation, and should not be sent. It is very important not to re-send invalid eSims, since people may walk several kilometers to access wifi to connect their eSims only to find out that they cannot be activated.

If a screen appears reading “Activate eSIM: An eSIM is ready to be activated” with a button asking you to “Continue,” do not click “Continue” to activate the eSim on your phone; exit out of the screen and reply to the email containing that QR code.

Be sure you're looking at the original post, as this will be continually updated. Any new instructions about replying to emails for specific types of unactivated plans will also appear here.

Check the notes of blackpearlblasts's eSim post, as well as fairuzfan's 'esim' tag, for referral and discount codes.

How do I purchase an eSim?

If you cannot download an app or manage an eSim yourself, send funds to Crips for eSims for Gaza (Visa; Mastercard; Paypal; AmEx; Canadian e-transfer), or to me (venmo @gothhabiba; paypal.me/Najia; cash app $NajiaK, with note “esims” or similar; check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased.)

You can purchase an eSim yourself using a mobile phone app, or on a desktop computer (with the exception of Simly, which does not have a desktop site). See this screenreader-accessible guide to purchasing an eSim through each of the five services that the Connecting Humanity team is calling for (Simly, Nomad, Mogo, Holafly, and Airalo).

Send a screenshot of the plan's QR code to gazaesims@gmail.com. Be sure to include the app used, the word "esim," the type of plan (when an app has more than one, aka "regional Middle East" versus "Palestine"), and the amount of data or time on the plan, in the subject line or body of your email.

Message me if you have any questions or if you need help purchasing an eSim through one of these apps.

If you’re going to be purchasing many eSims at once, see Jane Shi’s list of tips.

Which app should I use?

Try to buy an eSim from one of the apps that the team is currently calling for (see above).

If the team is calling for multiple apps:

Nomad is best in terms of data price, app navigability, and ability to top up when they are near expiry; but eSims must be stayed on top of, as you cannot top them up once the data has completely run out. Go into the app settings and make sure your "data usage" notifcations are turned on.

Simly Middle East plans cannot be topped up; Simly Palestine ones can. Unlike with Nomad, data can be topped up once it has completely run out.

Holafly has the most expensive data, and top-ups don't seem to work.

Mogo has the worst user interface in my opinion. It is difficult or impossible to see plan activation and usage.

How much data should I purchase?

Mirna el-Helbawi has been told that large families may all rely on the same plan for data (by setting up a hotspot). Some recipients of eSim plans may also be using them to upload video.

For those reasons I would recommend getting the largest plan you can afford for plans which cannot be topped up: namely, Simly "Middle East" plans, and Holafly plans (they say you can top them up, but I haven't heard of anyone who has gotten it to work yet).

For all other plans, get a relatively small amount of data (1-3 GB, a 3-day plan, etc.), and top up the plan with more data once it is activated. Go into the app’s settings and make sure low-data notifications are on, because a 1-GB eSIM can expire very quickly.

Is there anything else I need to do?

Check back regularly to see if the plan has been activated. Once it's been activated, check once a day to see if data is still being used, and how close the eSim is to running out of data or to expiring; make sure your notifications are on.

If the eSim hasn't been activated after three weeks or so, reply to the original email that you sent to Gaza eSims containing the QR code for that plan.

If you purchased the eSim through an app which has a policy of starting the countdown to auto-expiry a certain amount of time after the purchase of the eSim, rather than only upon activation (Nomad does this), then also reply to your original e-mail once you're within a few days of this date. If you're within 12 hours of that date, contact customer service and ask for a credit (not a refund) and use it to purchase and send another eSim.

How can I tell if my plan has been activated? How do I top up a plan?

The Connecting Humanity team recommends keeping your eSims topped up once they have been activated.

See this guide on how to tell if your plan has been activated, how to top up plans, and (for Nomad) how to tell when the auto-expiry will start. Keep topping up the eSim for as long as the data usage keeps ticking up. This keeps a person or family connected for longer, without the Connecting Humanity team having to go through another process of installing a new eSim.

If the data usage hasn't changed in a week or so, allow the plan to expire and purchase another one.

What if I can't afford a larger plan, or don't have time or money to keep topping up an eSim?

I have set up a pool of funds out of which to buy and top up eSims, which you can contribute to by sending funds to my venmo (@gothhabiba), PayPal (paypal.me/Najia), or cash app ($NajiaK) (with note “esims” or similar). Check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased, which plans are active, and how much data they've used.

Crips for eSims for Gaza also has a donation pool to purchase eSims and top them up.

Gaza Online (run by alumni of Gaza Sky Geeks) accepts monetary donations to purchase eSims as needed.

What if my eSim has not been activated, even after I replied to my email?

Make sure that the QR code you sent was a clear screenshot, and not a photo of a screen; and that you didn’t install the eSim on your own phone by scanning the QR code or clicking “install automatically."

Possible reasons for an eSim not having been activated include: it was given to a journalist as a back-up in case the plan they had activated expired or ran out of data; there was an error during installation or activation and the eSim could no longer be used; the eSim was installed, but not activated, and then Israeli bombings destroyed the phone, or forced someone to leave it behind.

An eSim that was sent but couldn’t be used is still part of an important effort and learning curve. Errors in installation, for example, are happening less often than they were in the beginning of the project.

Why should I purchase an eSim? Is there any proof that they work?

Israel is imposing near-constant communications blackouts on Gaza. The majority of the news that you are seeing come from Gaza is coming from people who are connected via eSim.

eSims also connect people to news. People are able to videochat with their family for the first time in months, to learn that their family members are still alive, to see their newborn children for the first time, and more, thanks to eSims.

Some of this sharing of news saves lives, as people have been able to flee or avoid areas under bombardment, or learn that they are on evacuation lists.

Why are different plans called for at different times?

Different eSims work in different areas of the Gaza Strip (and Egypt, where many refugees currently are). The team tries to keep a stockpile of each type of sim on hand.

Is there anything else I can do to help?

There is an urgent need for more eSims. Print out these posters and place them on bulletin boards, in local businesses, on telephone poles, or wherever people are likely to see them. Print out these foldable brochures to inform people about the initiative and distribute them at protests, cafes and restaurants, &c. Also feel free to make your own brochures using the wording from this post.

The Connecting Humanity team is very busy connecting people to eSims and don't often have time to answer questions. Check a few of Mirna El Helbawi's most recent tweets and see if anyone has commented with any questions that you can answer with the information in this post.

[encasedinobsidian]

honest work

lucien de leon, 3.4k words, explicit 18+

summary: every thursday, five women let lucien ease their stress tags: dumb porn with plot, no the uninvited spoilers, deconstructed gangbang, infidelity, sex volunteering one could say, 1 man 5 married women, cucking with consequences, fucking sucking riding etc a/n: i never post full fics on here, only on my ao3, but this one was so short and stupid i didn't feel like making a whole ao3 post. enjoy the freebie lmao

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One can find anything they need on the internet these days. 

Need to order groceries? Book a cleaner? Have flowers delivered?

It’s simple, it’s two clicks away. Credit card number, expiry, CVC. Place order, it says. No fuss.

Dog sitting? A bright pink acrylic table with five chairs to match? Click. Click. Click. It’s at your doorstep. 

Need to become a phoney licensed counselor to have an alibi for fucking five different women in an abandoned massage therapy office every Thursday evening? 

No problem, baby. The internet is here to help.

LUCIEN DE LEON Licensed Somatic Counseling Practitioner* 

It’s a bullshit title. You can just as easily become an ordained minister. There’s even an asterisk next to the professional title saying as much. 

*Does not refer to any licensed profession in any state or country. Fine Print Inc. is not an educational or professional institution, nor is it a governing body for any of the careers or professors for which they produce licenses. These are strictly for personal use, and protected under US parody law. 

But all of that is on a document that nobody reads. All that matters is this: Lucien de Leon calls himself a licensed counseling practitioner if he has to, and nobody will ever ask him where or by whom he’s licensed, so none of it matters. 

On Thursday evenings at seven PM, five women gather at the Sunrise Springs Professional Center, in an office on the third floor. The sign outside the door says Anisha Jacobs Wellness Center, but Anisha took off when the IRS began to snoop around her tax forms and, well, she’s been back in Lapland ever since. 

Everything stayed in the office when she left, and Lucien happened to push the door open in search of the men’s room when he had attended an audition in one of the adjacent offices. It looked like the lobby of any new age-y, warmly lit spa. 

And there was a key in the door, somehow. A key that worked. 

He pocketed that key, and a few days later, returned to the space to see what was left behind. The number on Ms. Jacobs’s business card was no longer in use, and the place had stood empty long enough for the plants to wither. The office had two rooms: a lobby, and a treatment room. 

It isn’t interesting how it got to this point, but as of now, the office looks like this: in the main room, six chairs of different styles, including a small loveseat, are arranged in a circle. On the sign beside the door, a piece of paper has been taped over with writing that says SOMATIC THERAPY SPACE. 

It’ll do. 

In the next room, there is not much to note but a massage table that sits collapsed up against the wall, and it looks, by all means, like a room that is not in use. It looks left behind, in fact, just entirely forgotten. 

And Thursday evenings look like this: 

The computer left behind on the desk by the window no longer turns on. It is little more than a prop. There’s a water dispenser on the side of the room next to a few new plants and various blown glass vases. Beside the open window, wind chimes clatter in the breeze. A plastic-wrapped Costco order of tissue boxes sits up against the wall. One box is on the coffee table that has been arranged in the middle of the chair-circle. 

Paper cups, a trash can, a key to the bathroom on the same floor. 

Tia arrives first, peering past the open door to see Lucien behind the computer. “Hey!” she chirps, pushing a silky mass of brown curls over her shoulder. 

“Hey,” he says, and gestures towards the chairs. “Have a seat.” 

It’s only six-fifty-four. 

Jasmine, Georgia and Ingrid filter in one by one, taking their seats and beginning to fill out their arrival forms. 

What is your name?

What do you wish to get out of this session? 

Before they leave their houses, they tell their husbands that they are going to their weekly women’s discussion group. If pressed, and with great reluctance, perhaps a few tears, they say it is group therapy and that there is a confidentiality agreement that cannot be breached. 

A few rules are followed: 

The meeting lasts for two hours. Each participant is given twenty minutes of time devoted specifically to them, with five minutes of downtime in between. 

No payment is exchanged — the sessions are part of Lucien’s ongoing professional development, and both he and the women involved agree that voluntary participation is integral. 

The order is randomized every week, however those trying to get pregnant — with a man at home who hasn’t seen a vegetable in three years and blames his wife’s age for their fertility issues — go first. Those who only want oral are scheduled in between those who want a full fuck. Lucien gets a bit of a breather that way. 

While the massage room is occupied, a clipboard is passed around in the circle where a prompt is written out in lazy handwriting at the top, and everyone writes their reflection. The other group members’ answers are to be halfway memorized, as well as the short summary script that Lucien provides on the second page. 

Today’s prompt reads as follows; If I try to picture my ideal life, how does this feel in my body? And what can I do to make this a reality? How do the people around me affect my hopes and dreams?  

There’s also a shredder under the desk. 

The participants are allowed to do whatever they want before their slot, and after, until the meeting is officially over. Their phones stay on silent. 

When Jeanette has arrived, the door is locked and the session begins. Lucien collects the arrival forms and sets a schedule for his dedicated attention. There’s also a whiteboard that sits on the floor, leaning against the front of the desk. He grabs the black marker and writes out the schedule.

JASMINE

INGRID

TIA

GEORGIA

JEANETTE

Once they see the schedule, two of them pull their laptops out of their handbags and grab their Airpod cases, ready to catch up on work. Tia folds open a book, marked halfway finished. Jeanette stretches out on the loveseat and closes her eyes. 

“Jasmine,” he says, and nods towards the open door to the room where the massage table has been unfolded. 

There’s nobody else left in the building by this time, and the overnight cleaners don’t show up until eleven. 

Leaving her bag on the chair, she follows him into the room and closes the door behind her while he sits at the edge of the bench.

“Did you test?” he asks. 

Jasmine nods. “Peak.”

With that, Lucien pulls her between his spread thighs and begins to unbutton her blouse. 

Jasmine’s son just turned three. He looks more and more like Lucien for every month that passes. 

It was just the two of them and Tia at first. Only two women with grievances about their husbands’ lack of ability to take direction, three bottles of wine and an old friend who offered to help just that one night. He also didn’t mind helping when Ron’s test results came back fucked beyond belief and he somehow remained steadfast in his belief that he was virile. 

It just became a thing after that, and he has never minded being shared. 

Twenty minutes isn’t much but it’s enough to get the women where they need to be, and Lucien is hard within a minute, dropping a pair of slacks and throwing them to the floor. He knows well what Jasmine wants, learning her over several years and utilizing his time as best as he can. Kisses up and down her neck, his tongue on her nipples, on her pussy, then his cock inside, deep thrusts on her hands and knees until he comes, bare and unprotected. 

He assumes the ladies on the other side of the door can hear the two of them, but nobody seems to mind, and he can’t say he does either. There’s a window as well, mostly covered by venetian blinds, only leaving a gap at the very bottom, through which he can see them typing and reading and sleeping while he strokes a hand down Jasmine’s spine, staying inside until the time runs out. She keeps his semen in her as long as possible, getting dressed and laying down on the couch after Jeanette gets up and offers it to her, switching to a chair with a wickered backrest. 

“Ingrid?”

The brunette pops up, laptop already slipped back into her handbag, and she begins to shimmy her skirt down while he shuts the door behind them. On her ring finger, a large, rectangular diamond shines next to a gold wedding band. She doesn’t need much warm-up, he finds, laying down on the bench and letting him slip off her panties, spreading her legs and laying back, waiting for his fingers inside and his tongue on her clit. 

“How’s your day been?” she asks, pushing a hand through his hair. 

“Living the dream,” he says, eyes closed, tongue sliding over her opening. “And you?”

She tips her head back and he pushes his fingers further in, curling them while they withdraw. Back in, and back out. 

“Good,” she exhales, “Great.” 

And then she doesn’t say anymore, except when she whispers that she’s going to come, the quick first time and the slow second, a third before time is up and Lucien wipes his wet mustache and lips on his forearm, hard as steel when she kisses him and skips back out of the room. 

He cleans up at the sink in the corner of the empty space again, where hand soap and intimate wash is placed before the session starts every week, before he opens the door and waves for Tia to join him. He’s flushed, he looks just-fucked, chest reddened and hair messy. She likes that, though, touching his hot skin and smelling his sweat, making out while he slides down the wall with her in tow, until she’s straddling him. 

The timer starts again, just a clock in his peripheral vision ticking while clothes are ripped off as fast as possible, and she’s sinking down on his bare cock, riding him for a few strokes before she rolls her eyes at herself, groans, and reminds them both of the condoms that sit above them on a shelf.

She watches him put it on, gliding a big hand down thin, shiny latex, that hand lifting and curling two fingers, middle and ring finger coaxing her close again, up on her knees and then back down onto his cock. 

Tia wants it the hardest, wants one hand grabbing roughly at her tit and another gripping her ass tight, Lucien’s legs bent for leverage, his tongue constantly in her mouth. She likes to be overwhelmed, he thinks, fucked into the floor and into the massage table, against the wall, bent over the bench with her hands on her back. Droplets of sweat slide down his temples from his hairline when she’s in the room with him, the air is thick and her inner thighs are covered, slippery and wet. He grabs a towel from the underside of the bench, slips it under her, catches when she begins to squirt from the beating of his cock, soaking the white cloth. 

That’s when he can’t hold back any longer, feeling that spray on his own thighs, and comes inside of the condom. He slips it off, ties it, tosses it and cleans her up. She’s boneless after that, breathing slowly, taking a minute to get off the bench and into her own clothes. It’s always a half-awake thanks, Lu he gets before she leaves and curls up next to Jasmine on her phone, then promptly falls asleep. 

Georgia wants the same thing every week, and Lucien doesn’t question it. He slips off her leggings, her panties, and eats her for the full twenty minutes she is allotted. Though today, halfway through, when he stands up for a moment to readjust, she looks down at his pants and sees the bulge that is ever present whenever his tongue is on her — an erection she has only ever seen behind the secrecy of fabric. 

“Can I see it?” she asks, sitting up. 

He takes it out then, unbuttons the pants with no boxers underneath, and lets it bounce between the sides of his zipper. 

Her eyes flick up, seeking permission, and he nods once, lifting his eyebrows while he holds up the bottom of his shirt.

She just touches it gently at first, runs her fingertips down his shaft and his head. It twitches in response, bobs a little in the air, more blood streaming to his mostly-hard cock. A clock ticks outside the door, and Lucien stands quietly with his hand over bunched-up silk fabric, just lifting it enough to show a cover of trimmed, dark hair, and then a long, thick cock. 

Georgia leans forward, with a hand lightly touching his underside. She runs her lips up the side of his shaft, and he twitches again, gets even harder, but he breathes calmly while the woman begins to kiss and smell at him. He pushes his pants down a little bit further, letting his balls hang firmly in open air.

She spots them, gives them a kiss too, and Lucien licks his bottom lip, bites it, watches her sit on the bench with nothing on from her waist down, kissing and licking softly at his cock. She reaches his tip, licks there too, and then pulls away with her eyes still on it. 

“Can you put it in a little?” she asks, and her hand is already between her legs, the tips of her fingers disappearing between her folds, touching herself gently. 

Lucien nods, his voice hoarse when he says, “Yeah… Yeah.” 

“I just wanna feel it,” she says, gazing down.  

His cock bobs once more, veins popping out of his skin to form little bulges all along his length. “You want me to, uh—” He clears his throat. “You want me to wear a condom?” 

Georgia nods, chewing on the inside of her lip, and Lucien steps over, grabbing a foil packet off another small shelf. While he opens it, while he threads the latex on and glides his hand over his dick to roll it down, her fingers slip in and out of her, arousal leaking onto the leather of the bench. 

“Lean back,” he says, hand coming to the inside of her thigh, “Spread your legs.” 

His hand is still around his root, and he enters her slowly, pushing inside until she gasps and he’s at her end. When he’s there, he lifts the shirt up again, and draws his hips back before he pushes forward. She gasps again, and looks down, eyes widening at the sight of how much she has stretched around him. 

“T— take it off,” she whispers, shakiness in her voice.

“Huh?”

“Take the condom off.”

“Alright,” he murmurs, and pulls out. 

“Jesus, fuck,” she whispers then, at how much cock just fit inside of her a moment before. 

He pushes the condom off, lays it on top of the empty wrapper in the shelf, and before he gets inside of her again, he kisses her, with slow strokes of his tongue, and his hand on the back of her neck, the tip of his cock brushing against her entrance. She sucks him in, his cockhead wet with lube gliding between her folds so easily, smoothly parting them and pushing inside while she arches her back. He kisses her neck then, while he pushes the rest of the way, until all of him is inside once again and he breathes a moan into her shoulder before he begins to slowly thrust. 

“Make me come,” she begs, “Please make me come.” 

With both hands around her hips, he pulls her forward, ass nearly lifting off the edge of the massage table while he leans over her. He reaches across, holds onto the edge of it behind her, and grinds into her, his curled hair against her clit while the table squeaks across the floor. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit,” she whines, “There—”

He grinds harder, slower, feels the wet clench of her around his cock, and then the pulsating orgasm that overtakes her, body going limp when it tapers off. 

He pulls out then, and his head brushes along her inner lips. 

“Thank you,” she says, a little bit dazed, and he helps her up with her hands in his, holds up her panties for her to step inside. 

Not what he expected, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless. 

“That was really good,” Georgia whispers, leaning against the door with her fingers curled around the handle, “We should do that again.”

“We should,” he says back. 

Clean-up, clothes back on, a hand pushed through his hair to smooth down the messy waves at least a little, condom wrappers and tissues tossed. 

Jeanette is up last. Her hair up in a bun, pants suit on, bracelets jangling on her wrists. 

“What are you in the mood for today?” he asks. “All it said on the form was ‘cock’ and I’ve never known you to be a woman of few words.” 

“Chef’s choice,” she says. “What are you in the mood for?” 

“Pshh.” He shakes his head, kisses her with a grin still on his face, “What could I possibly be in the mood for after all that?” 

She looks between his eyes and presses her lips together. “Did anyone suck your cock today?” 

Lucien shakes his head, and he’s still hard from before, always hard when he sees any one of these girls. Even run-in’s in public run the risk of an inappropriate boner in the freezer aisle. 

“Looks like I have my work cut out for me then, don’t I?” 

She strips down while he does the same, both of them entirely in the nude while she lays down on the table and takes his cock in her mouth. She has no gag reflex, her and Tia both glad to take Lucien down into their throats, but only until he’s close, forever teasing him, only letting him come inside or on their tits or back or pussy after fucking them. He could call it selfish but he likes it too much. 

He plays with her hair while she spits on him, jerks his cock, sucks at the tip and then swallows around him, only gagging lightly. He pulls her hips up, gets her on all fours, slaps her ass, sneaks a finger down between her cheeks and revels in her muffled moan when he rubs the tip of his middle finger over her asshole. 

“Deeper,” he grunts, thrusting his hips until she’s gagging fully, then draws back and sees the spit covering him, and her soaked lips, smiling while she looks up at him. He holds the underside of her jaw, watches himself slide in and out between her lips, and he lasts longer now. 

She raises up again, slides his cock between her tits and then turns around and angles her ass up for him, ready for his entry into whichever hole he desires most.

—

“Goodnight, ladies.” 

The door shuts behind the last of the five and Lucien wraps up the trash, grabs his things and turns off the light. He drives home along empty streets, between palm trees, past houses and dive bars and surf shops. There’s a thick script laying in the passenger seat with a pair of sunglasses thrown on top. He picks up dinner on the way, taking a seat on a chaise lounge by the hostess’ stand at the restaurant while he waits. Someone recognizes him on their way in, and tells him that they love his work. He thanks them, shakes their hand, touches their shoulder and obliges when they ask for a photo.

At home, he drops his keys and kicks off his shoes, steps through the foyer and makes his way to the living room where he sets the boxes down on the coffee table and he clicks around on a few buttons before the blinds roll up along his living room windows. Flat rocks form a footpath from the seating area to the pool, between lush plants and trees, right outside of where he sits down and turns on the TV.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

hope you enjoyed! if this is your first meeting with my writing, feel free to check out my selection of series and oneshots on ao3, including javi p, joel, and frankie :)

[nwarrior777]

(there is no spoilers in this post)

guys i have some unusual advice for you, which will make your disco elysium expirience so much more interesting

advice is...

...make your own investigation journal! i mean like. real one

[the text on journal: bullshit service officer]

then i first heard lore text in DE i thought "oh okay there is no way i will able to remember that" and just started to write down lore in my every day planner. and characters names, cause i don't remember even my friends name sometimes so

then i noticed, that quests system is a little... strange. it's a list but. i needed it to be more structured. and also! i had my own "quests" (goals?) which i wanted to do in the game but they weren't in the list. so i started to write it too, and it started to overcome my daily plans in my, yk, daily planner. so i was like "hey... i will make a journal specially for that! sounds cool"

and i thought like "okay it will take like half of it" but!!! i am on day 3 of game and already wrote all pages! so i had to add a bunch of paper myself!!!

it makes the process not just easier for people with memory troubles like me, it's brings new level of projection to the game - with this you have a feeling that you are investigating! it feels so interesting. it's like a extra bridge between you and game - you are in real world, the game is in computer, and the journal connect this two worlds

it will probably will not feels as much fun if you already played and know all the game details, but for the first run it's awesome addition!

i will not tell which structure and categories my journal has, it's much more interesting to make your own. the only last thing about is what i want to share:

i have "do and don't-s" (mostly don't-s) sheet were i write things which i don't want to say in dialogs or some actions which i don't want to do, (the reason of why you will (probably?) need this sheet - is one of the most favorite thing in this game. but as i said no spoilers. and no i am not about "what you should do and not" guides from internet, nooo, it's not about it. just play the game and you will get this part)

so yeah! get the real journal for this game and you will open new dimension of fun

[imwritingforfun]

Next chapter.

Okay here we go. Formating still fucked, but less lol I suggest you read it on your phone, not computer so it is nicer reading expirience.

Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63421420/chapters/162717916

*gif is representing our Y/N's mental state right now* lol

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

Damn okay! 165 for ☠️:

---

“How did people react?”

“While he could still talk, he told us,” Karen explains. “‘Epipen. Truck. Glove box.’ I remember him struggling to say that.”

“Tommy grabbed his keys and ran out to the truck,” Buck says. “He got the epipen while Eddie called 9-1-1.”

“Yep, I called 9-1-1,” Eddie says. “I was pretty buzzed, so I didn’t think I should do any medical intervention. Tommy and Buck had had less to drink.”

“Chimney and I helped Captain Gerrard to lay down flat on the floor,” Hen says. “Then Tommy came back inside and administered the epipen. It was only when we noticed it wasn’t having any effect that we checked the expiry date.”

“He just kept getting worse,” Buck explains. “Chim went to start CPR, but he was drunk. I offered to take over.”

“Even though there were three paramedics in the room?” Ransone asks.

“All drunk,” Buck says. “Plus, I’ve done CPR hundreds of times. I know what I’m doing. I did everything I could.” 

But he was dead before Athena arrived. 

▪️▪️▪️

“It still seems like just an accident to me,” Ransone tells her. “What do you think, Sergeant Grant? You know these people.”

Athena isn’t sure. She still feels uncomfortable about the whole thing. It seems like a big coincidence for swapped pitchers and an old-enough epipen to not work at all to overlap in such a fatal way. Her years on the job have certainly exposed her to the often banal tragedy of minor negligences. She knows it’s possible. But the other thing she knows? Coincidences are rare.

“What was the expiry date on the epipen?” She asks. 

“2019,” Ransone answers. 

“Five years,” Athena sighs. “Doesn’t that seem odd? Gerrard was a first responder. He ought to have seen enough of these sorts of deaths to know better.”

Ransone nods. “There is that.”

Before they can discuss further, Ransone’s phone rings. He takes the call and listens as someone on the other end provides an update. When he ends the call, he looks at Athena gravely. 

“What’s wrong, Lou?” She asks. 

“Gerrard’s truck was searched. There were two epipens in the glove compartment. Including one that was brand new.”

Athena feels cold. Tommy made the caesars. Tommy grabbed the epipen. This death just became officially suspicious.

ii.

The next morning, Athena gets the call that the coroner’s report has confirmed their understanding of events. The contents of Captain Gerrard’s stomach indeed contained clamato juice. He had not drunk the vegan option. Though everyone, including the actual vegan who drank from the same pitcher, believed that he had. So either Tommy made a mistake when making them, or Tommy intentionally switched them. And either Tommy accidentally grabbed the expired epipen rather than the functional one and failed to notice the functional one present, or it was on purpose. 

“That’s crazy,” Bobby says when Athena explains it all to him. “Tommy wouldn’t do that.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Athena asks. 

“Well, listen, I know he had a history with Gerrard and some of the guys at the 118 before I arrived,” Bobby says. “A history that doesn’t always reflect well on him. But I never had any reason to suspect anything violent! He’s not… I mean, he’s dating Buck!” 

“I know,” Athena sighs. “That might be the worst part of all this.”

Bobby’s shoulders sink. “I didn’t suspect anything about Jonah either. So… What do I know?”

Athena feels terrible. She hadn’t even thought of Jonah Greenway. She hopes they’re all wrong about this. Bobby doesn’t need to learn that anyone else under his command is a murderer. 

▪️▪️▪️

“There’s more evidence,” Ransone says when Athena arrives at the station. 

“More?” Athena frowns. 

He brings her over to a computer screen and shows her an opened Adobe Acrobat PDF. 

“This,” he says. 

Athena reads the title page of the document. 

10 Murder Mystery Party Plots to Entertain and Thrill! 

“What’s this?” She asks.

“The guide Kinnard used to plan his party,” Ransone says. “We got a warrant to search the condo.”

This is moving fast, then. 

“Okay,” Athena says. “Why is that significant?”

Ransone scrolls down to the table of contents. 

“He based his party on plot number six,” Ransone says. “One Last Strip Tease.” 

Right. In which Eddie was the slain exotic dancer, Chip N. Dale. 

“Read number seven,” Ransone prompts.

Athena reads aloud. “Comments from the Peanut Gallery?” 

Ransone clicks it, bringing up the proposed plot and how to execute it. Athena reads. It tells the story of a character allergic to peanuts who is fed sabotaged baked goods. Jesus. Is he stupid? The idea is all spelled out in front of them. Tommy must have read this, when he was planning the party. 

“I think that’s enough,” Athena says quietly. 

“I agree,” Ransone says. “I’ve already made some calls.” 

▪️▪️▪️

Ransone brings everyone back in, one by one, for more interviews. He doesn’t tell them why. 

Each person, individually, looks concerned to be asked back. They all thought it was an accident. They all thought it was a mistake. No one thought there’d be an investigation. Athena feels bad about that. The blindsided looks on her friends’ faces as they walk past her. She knows they’re confused. She knows they’re probably scared. They don’t need to be, though. 

Only Tommy should be scared today. 

Athena doesn’t participate in the questioning. Obviously. She’s not a detective and she has a conflict of interest. She does, however, watch through the two-way mirror. She needs to hear everything that’s said. She can’t miss any of this. 

With the exception of Tommy, Ransone starts by asking everyone the same question. 

“So, did you know Captain Gerrard had an allergy to shellfish?”

The answers are varied. 

“No,” Karen says. “I didn’t know anything personal about him, really. This was only the second time we’d even formally met.”

Matt and Mark didn’t know. Obviously. They’d never met the guy before either.

“No,” Eddie says. “Had no idea. We didn’t talk about personal stuff.”

“No,” Buck sighs. “Which is kind of insane, since I did a lot of the cooking. You think he’d mention it to me? Closest thing I think was him telling me he hated the idea of shrimp scampi.”

“Mmm, yes,” Hen says. “That’s familiar. But I’m not sure why I knew.”

“Oh, yeah,” Chim says. “I knew. Anyone who used to work with him back before he got transferred knew. B-Shift left a mess of coconut shrimp and he lost it.”

 Ransone latches onto this answer just as Athena suspects he will. 

“So Tommy probably knew about it too, then?” He asks. “He worked with you back then, right? That’s how you know him?”

Chim’s expression falls as he realizes what is really being asked. As he realizes the trap he’s been guided into. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, he probably knew. I mean, if he remembers. I don’t know how good his memory is.”

After that, the conversation with Chimney takes an interesting turn. 

“Wait… You guys don’t really think Tommy did this, do you?” He asks. “I mean, it was an accident.”

[naquey]

4, 13, 22!!

omg hiii I'm on my computer finally, and now I can answer this since it's been sitting for a while!

So, the only fic I have completed is Fame, which started way back during the early stages of my Drake & Josh hyperfixation. It was inspired by another Scream au fic that I fell in love with, as well as the book by Grady Hendrix The Finale Girl Support Group. I've actually never talked about it outside of like comments and posting the updates on tumblr lol.

4. If the fic required it, what did you research in order to write it?

I did a lot of research like: how long does it take for a broken leg to heal? what happens if someone is stabbed through the hand? can you stab someone in the skull?

stuff like that. I tried to be as realistic as possible since it is horror and does deal with... yk murder

13. Did you write any of the fic by hand? If yes, which parts? Do you find you write differently by hand vs typing?

No. It was all written in Google Docs, but there are other fics that I've tried writing by hand. I write the same whether it's paper and pencil or on the computer.

22. What is something you learned about yourself as a writer from the expirience?

Apart from not planning ahead, or not necessarily making the plot up as I go but making the pacing up as I go. I cannot for the life of me, end things properly. I'm great with horror and suspense but when it came to wrapping everything up I didn't know what to do and I started slowing down with the updates.

I would update it weekly, but then slowly I tapered off and it became bi-weekly or the chapters (IMO) would be lackluster. Of course, I still love Fame, don't get me wrong. It takes a lot of inspiration from my favorite Scream movie as well (Scream 4)

[fastfouriertransfem]

snuggles

In computer networking, snuggles are used in the SNUG protocol (superconductor network uninterruptible Googling). Much like TCP, SNUG provides reliability in data transfers, but it also improves latency and transfer rate over superconducting network cables. Despite the name, snuggles can be used for more than just Googling; they work for arbitrary data transfer. However, due to UPUSA (the Universal Possession of the United States of America) patent law, using them for any other use case is punishable by a fine of no less than 196,884₿ or a prison sentence of no less than 99 years. The patent has no expiry date.

A portmanteau of snug and Google, snuggles were proposed by Alephbeth in 2048, after the invention of the first room-temperature superconductor just months before. They are used at the start of a SNUG session and consist of three packets: SYN, a request to create a SNUG session; NUG, the acceptance of a SNUG session, and GLE, the creation of the SNUG session. The counterpart to snuggles, selgguns, used at the end of a SNUG session, consist of two packets: SEL, the notification of closure, and GUN, the termination of the session.

[torchwoodtranscripts]

TW 02: Fall to Earth

(Torchwood theme plays)

Ianto: The 21st century is when everything changes, and Ianto Jones is ready

(theme ends)

_____

(dramatic music plays)

(something metallic rattles in the background, Ianto is breathing heavily and dialing a phone number)

Ianto: (whimpers, strained) (under his breath) Right. (phone ringing) Come on. Come on come on come on!

(call connects)

Ianto: AAHHH! (grunting and straining)

Voice over the phone: Hello.

Ianto: Sorry, um, I'm on a spaceship and it's falling out of the sky.

Voice over the phone: You've reached the Jubilee Pizza Company. There's no one in right now to take your order. Please speak after the beep. Beep.

Ianto: OWW

(dramatic music fades out)

_____

(Torchwood theme in full)

(metal rattling continues in the background, a warning alarm beeps steadily, Ianto is breathing heavily)

Ianto: Oh, my leg. Blood everywhere. Oh, please someone!

Computer: Flight path deviation warning.

(phone rings) (phone beeps three times as Ianto picks up)

Ianto: Jack!

Zeynep: Is that Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Yes!

Zeynep: Mr. Ianto Jones?

Ianto: Yes! Oh, Thank God! Thank God!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, if I may call you that?

Ianto: Sure!

Zeynep: If I can have a moment of your time, have you recently experienced an accident at work?

Ianto: What?

Zeynep: My name's Zeynep. Can I interest you in our accident insurance policy?

Ianto: (Laughing in disbelief)

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: (finishes laughing) Look, actually, I'm bleeding to death on a spaceship falling out of the sky.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: You heard me! Listen! Hear that? That's the sound of Ephraim Salt's SkyPuncher ship crashing.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones.

Ianto: Google it, first private space flight. Breaking news! Not going well!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: (exasperated) Is that all you can say?

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, I must apologize if I have phoned at an inconvenient moment. (Ianto laughs again) If you wish one of our operatives can phone you on another day.

Ianto: (with mock pleasantness) Oh sure! I'll have plenty of time tomorrow!

Zeynep: Very good then. I'll update our records. Thank you for your time.

Ianto: Oh (sighs) (desperately, almost whimpering) please?

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: I know how it sounds but I'm not hoaxing.

Zeynep: Of course not. However, I can sense that I have called at an inconvenient moment and will be terminating this cal-

Ianto: ALRIGHT! alright.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: I am interested in your accident insurance policy.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: I would like to buy some accident insurance, IF you'll stay on the line.

Zeynep: A very good choice, Mr. Jones. would you like our domestic or worldwide policy?

Ianto: Worldwide.

Zeynep: Very good. This policy is for accidental injury in the workplace.

Ianto: Yes! Yes, yes, fine.

Zeynep: If I may? I must just finish. This policy does not cover time off work caused by a disease, process, or long-standing medical condition. (Ianto: uh huh, yep.)  But we do also offer optional compensation for income loss through-

Ianto: Yep, t-t-t-tick the box! Sure! (in pain) ahhhh!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Nothing! It's, nothing, carry on.

Zeynep: Do you have any pre-existing conditions?

Ianto: Ahh, my leg's bleeding everywhere.

Zeynep: I'm afraid we can't cover you for that.

Ianto: Pity.

Zeynep: I am sorry, could I have an email address?

Ianto: Um Ianto@Torchwood.org.uk

Zeynep: Y for yeti-

Ianto: I! A! N! T! O! @!

Zeynep: Thank you! Now, how will you be paying today?

Ianto: uh-

Zeynep: By credit or debit card?

Ianto: Uh h-hold on. (Ianto rummaging around) Credit!

Zeynep: There's a three pound surcharge.

Ianto: Don't care!

Zeynep: And the name on the card?

Ianto: Mr. I Jones

Zeynep: Can I trouble you for the long number?

Ianto: Ugh, 7674984333333021

Zeynep: So, I've a card, ends in 2031

Ianto: No! 3021!

Zeynep: Of course, Mr. Jones. I apologize, 3021.

Ianto: Yes! guh, yes! (under his breath) Oh, god.

Zeynep: And now, Mr. Jones, may I have the expiry date?

Ianto: You're kidding. 05/10

Zeynep: That seems to have gone through!

Ianto: Oh lovely!

Zeynep: Congratulations Mr. Jones! You are fully insured. The policy documents are being emailed to you now. You have 48 hours to cancel. Have a safe day at work!

Ianto: (with mock pleasantness) I'll be sure to! heh (large explosion) Ah!

Zeynep: Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Stop this thing crashing?

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Look, all calls are recorded for training purposes, yes?

Zeynep: Yes.

Ianto: I'm telling the truth. I really am on Ephraim Salt's SkyPuncher. Something has gone wrong and the one person who can help me is you!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones I-

Ianto: If you don't and this recording surfaces you are going to become world famous for all the wrong reasons. Now, there's every chance that it won't, but guess what, this is life and these things have a habit of popping up.

Zeynep: I just sell insurance!

Ianto: Oh, today you're gonna do a lot more than that! Okay, I need you to google the plans of the SkyPuncher. anything you've got.

Zeynep: I can't do that.

Ianto: oh, you can!

Zeynep: I cannot Mr. Jones. I'm afraid our desktops are locked.

Ianto: Right! (typing) not anymore, I've sent you a very special code from my phone to your headset.

(headset chimes)

Zeynep: OH! What is this? What have you done to my computer?

Ianto: Good, isn't it? Perhaps you're starting to believe me. Your computer is now one of the most powerful information indexing machines on the planet.

Zeynep: Who are you?

Ianto: Mr. Jones.

Zeynep: but- but uh-

Ianto: Oooh someone's gone off script! Together we're gonna find out how to get the ship down.

Zeynep: Can't you do that yourself?

Ianto: My phone's good, but not that good.

Zeynep: Should you even have your phone on a plane?

Ianto: Least of my problems! Please! (small explosion) ugh Dammit!

Zeynep: I am sorry Mr. Jones; I'm going to have to terminate this call.

computer: Please correct angle of descent. re-engage autopilot.

Ianto: I DON'T KNOW HOW! Look, it's fine, goodbye.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, cockpit, big green button.

Ianto: What?

Zeynep: big green button! press it now.

(button presses and buzzes)

computer: Auto pilot engaged.

(warning alarm stops)

Ianto: Oh! How did you know that?

Zeynep: I play a lot of flight simulators. Figured it was worth a shot.

Ianto: Oh, we're climbing, amazing! Thank you.

Zeynep: I'm glad to have helped you today Mr. Jones. Is there anything further I can assist you with?

Ianto: I'm still gonna need you to google everything you can about this ship.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones are you sure there is no one else I can connect you to?

Ianto Oh no, I've got you on my side now. Haven't I?

Zeynep: Can I ask what you are doing on the ship?

Ianto: Uh, feeling very scared? (in pain) Ahhh!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Sorry it's, (sighs) my leg.

Zeynep: Is it bleeding very badly?

Ianto: Yes.

Zeynep: I'm afraid it's our policy to transfer such calls to the emergency services.

Ianto: NO!

Zeynep: They may be able to-

Ianto: No, you can't do that! Please! Trust me it's- not- it-it- it's complicated. Listen, my leg, it's fine.

Zeynep: is it?

Ianto: Yep! Barely a scratch!

Zeynep: By which I mean you have of course staunched the bleeding with a tourniquet?

Ianto: Uhhhhhm- yes?

Zeynep: By using something to hand? Such as a bandage or a tea towel.

Ianto: A tea towel in space? Uh- loo- i've uh- I've got my necktie I could use that.

Zeynep: That will work.

Ianto: Okay.

Zeynep: I'm sure you've tied it very tight

Ianto: (high pitched, pained moan) (still high pitched)...Yes.

Zeynep: Tighter than that.

Ianto: (very high pitched) Yup.

Zeynep: Good. then I will not be needing to transfer this call (Ianto: No.) to the people who are undoubtedly best qualified to deal with your situation.

Ianto: it's...complicated

Zeynep: As I can see from google.

(pause)

(Ianto sighs)

Zeynep: There's no Mr. Jones listed on the passengers in the news report.

Ianto: Uh- um I'm not a passenger I'm the uh-......butler.

Zeynep: The air steward?

Ianto: Mmmm prefer sky butler.

Zeynep: I see.

Ianto: Listen, first private space flight, lots of celebrity passengers. Ephraim Salt himself. It was always going to be a high-profile event. I had to be on board to make sure nothing happened, nothing went wrong.

Zeynep: And how is that going Mr. Jones?

Ianto: I think everyone else is dead and something's wrong with the ship.

Zeynep: I see.

(pause)

Ianto: (deep sigh) We're climbing again. Any luck finding the SkyPuncher manual?

Zeynep: Still working on that. This software is incredible. You should sell it.

Ianto: I'll bear that in mind.

Zeynep: Please allow me to reassure you, Mr. Jones, that this information is being used with complete confidentiality, and I definitely haven't looked up a girl I went to school with.

Ianto: No.

Zeynep: She's so fat! And has maxed out four credit cards!

Ianto: (chuckles) Perhaps you should sell her some insurance.

Zeynep: I will bear that in mind Mr. Jones.

(Ianto takes a deep breath then grunts as something shifts and falls to the floor)

Ianto: Just getting the pilot out of his chair. (in pain) Ahh! May as well enjoy the view in comfort. (in pain) Uhh!

(more shifting noises, a small metallic jingle)

Ianto: There!

Zeynep: And how is the view?

Ianto: Magnificent. We're at the edge of the atmosphere. Long way up. My friend Gwen says that flying is two moments of terror and hours of boredom. (chuckles) Right now it's just terror.

Zeynep: Your friend Gwen?

Ianto: Colleague.

Zeynep: Both sky butlers?

Ianto: Not exactly.

Zeynep: Thought not. What are you? Are you a spy?

Ianto: (non-commital hum)

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, may I ask, what is your current occupation?

Ianto: Rather not say.

Zeynep: I see.

Ianto: The view…is really amazing! It's getting quite...floaty. Not 2001 but, listen (pause) (small thud) I just dropped my pen and it, sauntered.

Zeynep: I do like that word.

Ianto: Well, your english is very good for a- uh- um- I mean- oh god look sorry, I just assumed, call centers are always abroad so...

Zeynep: I'm in Glasgow.

Ianto: right. sorry.

Zeynep: Kidding, I'm in Izmir.

Ianto: Which is?

Zeynep: (sighs) Look down. Turkey. We're on the left. Hello!

Ianto: Oooh by the beach!

Zeynep: (scoffs good-naturedly) No. We have a river that's so poisonous you don't hang your washing out when the wind changes. My office is on the edge of the city and has a lovely view of an illegal sand quarry where people come to crash cars.

Ianto: Niiice.

Zeynep: I'll send you a postcard.

Ianto: Still think my view is better.

Zeynep: And Mr. Jones, what is the purpose of your journey today?

Ianto: Because (pause) b-because no one believed me when I told them Ephraim Salt was in danger. Wanted to save him. (pause) Tried my best. Guess you could call it my (pause) sense of duty.

Zeynep: You are definitely a spy. Aren't you Mr. Jones?

Ianto: w- uh- yes. (deepens voice slightly) I'm a spy.

Zeynep: Oooh tell me more.

Ianto: (still in a deeper voice) I would but it's (pause) complicated.

Zeynep: Have you a license to kill?

Ianto: (back to normal voice) You teasing?

Zeynep: I spend all day being sworn at by complete strangers. Now it's my turn! Anyway, we love spies here. do you know what the Turkish is for briefcase?

Ianto: Surprise me.

Zeynep: James Bond sandbag.

Ianto: That's uh-

Zeynep: I know! How's space?

Ianto: Quite close now, the sky's really curved. We're heading toward the curviest bit of the curve and everything looks odd. Half the view is broad daylight and above that it's nighttime. There's a sort of rainbow between the two. (low thud) WOAH! (something slides) (low thud)

Zeynep: Are you alright Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Yup! Bit of turbulence, but at this height that's tricky. (deep breath) We're leaving the atmosphere. So gradual. But it's amazing! I feel cold. Must be cold outside. How's the computer? Might need those tech specs soon.

Zeynep: So you can turn around? The computer's still working on that.

Ianto: In theory we're gonna do a vanity loop around Ephraim Salt's newest satellite and then head back down. Can't believe we're gonna do all that on autopilot.

Zeynep: And how are you at flying a plane?

Ianto: Not great.

Zeynep: James Bond wouldn't say that.

Ianto: Look, I am so not James Bond I- uh, being a spy it's uh- it's um. My life is mostly very dull.

Zeynep: You're on a spaceship that's being attacked by terrorists.

Ianto: Well, yes, possibly. Could be an accident.

Zeynep: An accident you predicted? Mr. Jones. I sell insurance for a living. We'd call that fishy.

Ianto: right. Can I have a moment?

Zeynep: sure.

Ianto: (sighs) Space is very (pause) woooo..... Right, I'm gonna check on the other passengers. Make sure they're all strapped in. Don't want a cabin full of floating corpses.

(metal clinks) (shifting noises)

Ianto: (in pain) Ahh! Right. (grunts) This is like, swimming. Little bit uh, wow! (chuckles) Everyone's strapped in. They look (pause) peaceful.

Zeynep: I thought you said they were dead?

Ianto: Think so. (pause) All a bit of a blur. My leg was (pause) right. Currently I'm a feeling up a Big Brother winner.

Zeynep: That's not a usual situation.

Ianto: Isn't it? heh (metal clinking) No pulse I can detect. Was, so sudden. There was a bang and they-

Zeynep: Mr. Jones? I'm losing you.

Ianto: Well, we're as close as you can get to the communications satellites. Signal should be peachy.

Zeynep: Yeah, there's whole world between my living room and my balcony. Try getting a signal out there. Not a chance.

Ianto: We're really getting close the satellite. Autopilot's showing off. Loop round and then back down. That's where I'm really gonna need your help.

Zeynep: Computer says it's at 73%. Whatever that means.

Ianto: Annoying.

Zeynep: Isn't it Mr. Jones.

(thrusters firing in the background)

Ianto: We're about to turn around.

(warning begins to blare)

Computer: Proximity alert. Proximity alert.

Ianto: No. NO!

(collision, metal scraping)

(lots of warning and alerts going off)

Ianto: AHHH! AHH! ugh. uh- oh GAHH! uhhh GURH!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: uhhhhh

Zeynep: Mr. Jones? Can you hear me Mr. Jones? are you alright?

Ianto: Not really no. Small fire and um, stuff.

Zeynep: What's happened?

Ianto: Smashed into the satellite. Just swerved, thought that would be it but, Hey-hey! Still here!

Zeynep: You destroyed the communications satellite?

Ianto: I didn't! The ship just- wait.

Zeynep: What?

Ianto: The autopilot's off. (switch flipping) Really need those plans now!

Zeynep: They're still downloading.

Ianto: You don't understand I need to know how to turn this ship around, otherwise we're just gonna head off into space.

Zeynep: It's nearly there, can you just-

Ianto: No! I can't! if I go much further I'll be out of telephone range.

Zeynep: Right. I'm on it. I'm-

(hold music)

Recorded voice: Your call is important to us. Please continue to hold. (pause) Have you considered the benefits of changing your contents insurance (Ianto: (softly) no!) provider?

Ianto: No. No. No. NO NO NO NO!

(hold music stops)

Zeynep: Mr. Jones? Are you still there?

Ianto: YES! Thank you! Oh, you're very faint, can you speak up?

Zeynep: Listen to me, this call has gone over the service standard time limit after a purchase the system has flagged this out.

Ianto: But surely if you- y-

Zeynep: I don't want the computer to notify my manager.

Ianto: Oh no, no of course not you're only saving my life!

Zeynep: Mr. Jones.

Ianto: W-what've you got?

Zeynep: I'm sorry?

Ianto: Sell me something.

Zeynep: Uhh pet insurance?

Ianto: Myfanwy!

Zeynep: How do you spell that?

Ianto: M! Y! F! A! N! W! Y!

Zeynep: M for mother, Y for yeti, F for Freddy, A for apple, N for no, W for weather, Y for yeti.

Ianto: Very good!

Zeynep: And is that a boy or a girl?

Ianto: you're on script again, aren't you?

Zeynep: Of course, sir! This will only take a moment.

Ianto: Girl, I- uh, think.

Zeynep: Dog, cat, bird, rabbit or other?

Ianto: Bird. Yeah, bird!

Zeynep: What sort of bird?

Ianto: Exotic!

Zeynep: any pre-existing medical conditions?

Ianto: nope!

Zeynep: age?

Ianto: ah-uh-

Zeynep: I'm sorry I didn't hear that Mr. Jones

Ianto: Doesn't matter, 3!

(metal scraping noises)

Zeynep: And are you happy for me to use the existing payment details and contact information for Myfanwy?

(small explosion)

Ianto: AH! Yes! I am!

Zeynep: Then I am pleased to tell you, that Myfanwy is now insured.

Ianto: Hooray!

(metallic objects sliding and crashing together)

Zeynep: Anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Yes. Help me turn this thing around?

Zeynep: Yes. You need to engage the left thruster gently to turn her back to earth.

Ianto: And how do I do that?

Zeynep: In front of you is a display pad with a (pause) it looks a bit like a steering wheel.

Ianto: Yes, but the steering wheel is locked

Zeynep: Well, good. That's only for use in glide mode.

Ianto: what's-?

Zeynep: Not important right now. I've only read so much of the manual. (to herself) How did this computer find this? Anyway, under the steering wheel, two flippy switches. like, eh- pinball nudgers.

Ianto: Pinball nudgers? w-? Ah! Got 'em!

(metal shifting)

Zeynep: Flip the right one and flip it only 'til the craft is vectored just above the apogee.

Ianto: Apogee....?

Zeynep: (sighs) 'Til the nose is still just poking into the stars and not the sky.

Ianto: right. the right flipper?

Zeynep: yes. careful, they're more like hairdryers than engines.

Ianto: Okay. Done. (switch flicking) Now?

Zeynep: We're relying on momentum to push you back onto the atmosphere.

Ianto: It's working! Slowly.

(Torchwood variation begins quietly in the background)

Zeynep: Slowly is good.

Ianto: How will I know when I hit re-entry?

Zeynep: It'll get bumpy. and warm.

(low thud) (warning sirens begin)

Ianto: OoooOoOooOoOOOoOoH! It got bumpy! (low thud) Uh-wasn't this bad coming up!

Zeynep: Then your angle of flight would be programmed by experts. I sell insurance and you pour drinks.

Ianto: And spy. (small explosion) Woah! (hull creaking) (warning sirens stop) Uhhh.

Zeynep: You should now be entering controlled descent.

Ianto: Falling slowly.

Zeynep: If we get it right. Now, how much of the control desk is lit up?

Ianto: Uh all of it. Most of it. I think. (in pain) Ah!

Zeynep: Apparently, we're looking for a panel that reads uh- glider wing deployment. Three down two across.

Ianto: Can't see it.

Zeynep: From the left.

Ianto: Uh.... (hisses) Got it!

Zeynep: There should be a red light and a graphic. Looks a bit like uh- you seen Star Wars?

Ianto: Of course I have.

Zeynep: An x-wing. When it goes green that's time to unfold the wings. They'll slow you down. Then the steering will unlock, and you'll enter glide mode. See the pips underneath.

Ianto: uh.....

Zeynep: The dots! Right? Dots? Some red ones, some green ones.

Ianto: Yes. Yes.

Zeynep: When you are uh- oh, hold on please Mr. Jones.

Ianto: Wha- hello? W- uh- the red ones are switching off. (pause) What does that mean? There's seven green ones, now six, now five.

Zeynep: I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Jones, I left the page on the printer.

Ianto: You printed out a spaceship flight manual?

Zeynep: Are there two green lights?

Ianto: Three!

Zeynep: Good. When there are two, engage the wings.

Ianto: Now?

Zeynep: Now!

(switch flips twice) (alarm starts blaring)

Ianto: It hasn't worked. It hasn't worked!

Zeynep: What? Try it again!

Ianto: Really?

Zeynep: Sorry, eh give me a second please.

(metal shifting)

Ianto: Woah!

Zeynep: Okay, you can try it again. (switch flips) Anything? (switch flips again)

Ianto: No!

Zeynep: Maybe you're doing it wrong.

Ianto: I'm not doing it wrong!

Zeynep: Little toggle, engage.

Ianto: Yup!

Zeynep: Is there a button labelled diagnostic? I mean there is, but can you see it?

Ianto: Yes. and yes!

Zeynep: Press it

(button clicks and buzzes)

(silence)

Zeynep: Mr. Jones? Is there anything more I can help you with Mr. Jones? You do know that after ten seconds of silence I must terminate this call don't you Mr. Jones?

Ianto: The whole panel's gone blank.

Zeynep: Oh.

Ianto: Thanks, thanks for that.

(buzzing and beeping)

Ianto: OH NO! It says there's not enough pressure in the system for the wings to deploy!

Zeynep: Meaning?

Ianto: That's it! You may as well try steering a brick! Thanks for trying you're welcome to hang up now, unless you like listening to a whole lot of screaming.

Zeynep: I'm sorry Mr. Jones.

Ianto: It's fine I'll hang up myself. Just, when a handsome man comes to your desk, and he will, (Zeynep: wait!) tell Jack I'm sorr- what?

Zeynep: You said there wasn't enough pressure in the system. You made it sound like the brakes on my car.

Ianto: Weeelll, pretty much. I mean I'm no expert. Some kind of hydraulic system? What are you suggesting? That I pull up the flooring and yank the cables?

Zeynep: Can you do that?

Ianto: Yeah! This is hardly a 747. (metal creaking) Yup. There we go. All labelled. But there's no point. It's not that simple, is it? (mockingly) Oh, there's even a widget, like when you blow up your bike tire!

Zeynep: A valve.

Ianto: (mockingly) A valve yeah! I could puff! (chuckles)

Zeynep: You don't need to! Is there a fire extinguisher on board?

Ianto: You're kidding. (pause) You're not, are you?

Zeynep: Just a thought. If there's not enough pressure in the system?

(shifting) (small clank)

Ianto: The nozzle's not a great fit but it'll have to do.

(fire extinguisher sprays into the valve a few times)

(alert goes off twice followed by a small jingle and a high-pitched tone)

Ianto: I don't believe it! How'd you know that?

Zeynep: Unreliable family car. Also, I'm a fire warden.

Ianto: Oh, It's amazing! I'm back in the cabin and the flight deck's lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh, I could kiss you!

Zeynep: Flirtation's not allowed Mr. Jones.

Ianto: They monitor that?

Zeynep: And heavy breathing, so you need to watch that.

Ianto: I'll try to make my panic less...sexfesty.

Zeynep: Please do.

(switch flicks twice) (hydraulics whir)

Computer: Wings extended. Entering glide mode.

Ianto: WOOHOO! We've actually done it!

Zeynep: I am pleased! Do I need to find out how to teach you to fly the ship?

Ianto: Well, the steering wheel thingy is unlocked.

Zeynep: Steering column.

Ianto: Steering wheel. Now, if you could skip few pages ahead to the section marked "landing"

Zeynep: Of course. (pages turning) Why are you doing this?

Ianto: Trying not to die?

Zeynep: Trying to save people you don't even know.

Ianto: Uh- as I said sense of duty.

Zeynep: Right.

(pause)

Ianto: Look, i- in my line of work it's the kind of judgement call you have to make.

Zeynep: Is that so?

Ianto: Do the best I can. (three electronic beeps) Ah, shit.

Zeynep: Now what?

Ianto: My phone battery is on 10%.

Zeynep: (exasperated) Oh, Allah, Allah!

Ianto: Ridiculous isn't it. Oh, my life!

Zeynep: Have you got a charger on you?

Ianto: Bless you for that.

Zeynep: Thought not.

Ianto: It might be fine. It might last?

Zeynep: When does a phone battery ever do that?

Ianto: Yooooou're right. There's a usb port on the flight deck but no charging cable.

Zeynep: I have a suggestion.

Ianto: Okay?

Zeynep: You're not going to like it.

Ianto: Right.

Zeynep: Search the others on board.

Ianto: Eough (shifting) Okay, alright, fine.

Computer: Automatic flight control engaged.

Ianto: I'm going out on deck. Let's do this. (footsteps) (in pain) Ah! Ahh! (hisses in pain) Right. (hisses) Oh! So, this is weird. A lot of rich people. Do I search the boyband?

Zeynep: Oh! Which one?

Ianto: Star 7?

Zeynep: My daughter loves them! Can you take a picture?

Ianto: Of a dead boy band?

Zeynep: Fair point. Just one?

Ianto: No. (pause) Ephraim Salt. (pause) I'm going through the pockets of a dead billionaire philanthropist. Bound to have a phone charger. Oh? (pause) OH.

Zeynep: What?

Ianto: He's not dead.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: He has a really slow pulse. I just assumed I was the only one- if I can bring him round- (two slaps) Mr. Salt? Ephraim? (pause) Nothing. His eyes aren't responsive either. I don't understand.

Zeynep: You didn't say what happened to them all.

Ianto: They were all talking away! S-something happened to the ship, they started screaming! Something cut my leg, it's not clear. I just- I just assumed- I- I checked the pulses! I did!

(dramatic music starts while aggressive grunting, growling, and yelling begins)

Ianto: AH! Get away!

(grunting, growling, and yelling continues in the background)

Zeynep: What? What's happening? Mr. Jones?

Ianto: Stay back! Stay back, stay back! Stay away from me! AH! AHHHH!

(scuffling) (growling and yelling becomes muffled)

Ianto: Whooo! Oh, I'm in the hold. Not very big, but it doesn't have a zombie in it.

Zeynep: A zombie! Really?

Ianto: Ephraim Salt. Utter screaming madman. So, got his phone charger.

Zeynep: Good, but what?

Ianto: I don't know! I don't understand! He was just thrashing and screaming, and it was horrible! (sighs) I gotta get back past him to the cockpit to charge my phone

Zeynep: (laughing)

Ianto: Oh sorry, is that funny?

Zeynep: I could never be a spy Mr. Jones

Ianto: No? Well, zombies on a plane? Nothing. I've been out in Swansea on a Saturday. Right. uh, (exhales) Tiny hold. No room for anything but Ephraim Salt's luggage. What would you pack for the stars? Doesn't matter. What does matter is that his suitcase is very, very expensive. Black box! The world's toughest suitcase. One dan brown, pair of socks, breath mints, and hey! I have two phone chargers! Whoop de doo! (stretching or zipping noise) There. Oh! Just so you know, I've just tied a suitcase to myself with elastic straps for protection. Wish I could send you a picture but that would be the last of my battery. Trust me though, I look sexy.

Zeynep: my knight in armor.

Ianto: Quite. (deep breath) Right. Let's get back out there.

Zeynep: Rather you than me.

Ianto: Always.

(door opens) (growling and yelling volume increases)

Ianto: There, Mr. salt, please listen to me. I mean you no harm. OW! Ah!

Zeynep: Come on Mr. Jones, you can do it!

Computer (muffled): Glide control disengaged. Glide control disengaged.

Ianto: No! autopilot's off!

Zeynep: Turn it back on!

Ianto: Still gotta get past Mr. salt and (strangled cry) This is a really bad day! AH! Mr. Salt, Mr. Salt listen to me. Please calm down! I know you don't want to attack me please!

Zeynep: What's happened to him?

Ianto: Not NOW! No, not- hang on Mr. salt. no. (heavy thud) (growling stops) (metal clanking) Ah! Oh God.

Zeynep: What have you done?

Ianto: Uh...knocked him out with a steel briefcase.

Zeynep: That's good right?

Ianto: Uh yeah, not sure I just knocked him out though.

Zeynep: Oh.

Ianto: Yeah, I- I know we've got more important things on but- I'm just gonna check on him.

Zeynep: What about the plane?

Ianto: May have just killed someone, don't do that every day. So, please just let me- (takes a breath) still a pulse.

Zeynep: Do you think the others are alive?

iato: I'm just hoping they don't wake up. Don't fancy being torn apart by a boy band.

Zeynep: My daughter-

Ianto: Oh, don't- you start.

Ephraim: (yelling)

Ianto: Ahhhh! Ah!

Ephraim: (breathing heavily) They- tried to kill me. You! Tried to kill me!

Ianto: No! I didn't, Mr. Salt!

Ephraim:(still breathing heavily) Burning. Rage. What happened to me? Can't think. They want it. They mustn't have it. (pause) Now go! (yelling) I can't! Can't!

Ianto: (in pain) Ah! AAHHHHHH! Ahh. BIT ME! ON MY LEG!

Zeynep: Get out of there!

Ianto: (in pain) Ah!

(footsteps) (door closing) (muffled growling and yelling in the background)

Ianto: (exhales heavily) I'm in. (in pain) Ah! Thank god, I'm in.

Zeynep: But how are you going to keep him out?

Ianto: There's a- a cockpit door, not a proper security one. Not at all! Reminds me of a caravan holiday in Barry Island. What I'm saying is, it's not gonna work for long. Right then. You sill there?

Zeynep: always.

Ianto: So, (phone warbles) phone on charge. Next. (switches clicking)

(failure beep)

Computer: Unable to re-engage glide control.

Ianto: Autopilot's not working. So, I'm, I'm on a space ship with a raging madman, it's crashing, and I now need to learn how to fly it.

Zeynep: Tough day.

Ianto: Regretting selling me insurance?

Zeynep: We have a help line for filling in the forms. They're going to love you.

Ianto: (with laboured breathing) Well don't transfer me. (breath) Not just yet, eh? (breath) I'm starting to enjoy our conversation.

Zeynep: Me too.

Ianto: (slurring slightly) First priority is to learn how to fly this thing right? (hisses in pain) Ah! First, (a few breaths) uh, just a little sit down. (metal clinking) Not feeling too clever. (exhales "oh")

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, (Ianto hisses in pain) is there anything I can help you with?

Ianto: Sorry, (pained breath) bit of heavy breathing there. My leg he, he bit my wound! It's uh, bleeding again. Fine anyway I- think- (pause) actually feeling pretty bad! (chuckles) Wonder if whatever got to the passengers is affecting me too. So tired.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones.

Ianto: Tired.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones!

Ianto: Sleep, j- just for a second-

Zeynep: Mr. Jones!

(crashing noise)

Computer: Glide alert failure. Velocity increasing.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones!

Ianto: Woo.

Zeynep: (echoing from a distance) Mr. Jones. Wake up! Mr. Jones!

Ianto: (softly) I'm dead. (louder) Mr. Jones is dead.

Zeynep: (still echoey and distant) Come on Mr. Jones, come on! You can do it!

Ianto: (softly, resigned) You're talking to a dead man. (sighs) Give up.

Zeynep: (still distant) Mister! Jones! (louder and clear) IANTO!

Ianto: Yes! Maybe it's an airborne toxin. Some kind of virus?

Zeynep: Or maybe, just maybe, you've lost a lot of blood. My eldest fell off her bike and refused to tell me because she wanted to finish her maths homework. (Ianto: huh.) Found her bleeding all over her algebra. Kids. Anyway, I would like you to look at your leg.

Ianto: My what?

Zeynep: The tourniquet on your leg.

Ianto: (non-committal hum)

Zeynep: Come on! it's bleeding, isn't it?

Ianto: (softly) Yeah.

Zeynep: Oh, I'm so glad you're out of it cuz this is going to hurt.

Ianto: What is?

Zeynep: You've still got those elasticated ropes? From the suitcase?

(Ianto shifting)

Zeynep: Take one. Bind it round your leg.

(elastic stretching)

Ianto: Ooh, squeezy.

Zeynep: That's right. Now wrap it again. And again. There we go. Lovely and tight. And then fasten it to itself.

Ianto: Yup.

Zeynep: And let go.

(elastic snaps) (Ianto yelps)

Zeynep: The pressure on the wound will stop the bleeding. The pain will wake you up. Now, is there a first aid kit?

Ianto: (high pitched) Yup. out- out in the passenger deck.

Zeynep: Oh, let's forget painkillers.

Ianto: (high pitched and in pain) Oh yes, lets!

Zeynep: Okay, Mr. Salt or crashing?

Ianto: Well, we've not crashed yet. He does sound pretty mad.

Zeynep: Okay, try and bring the ship under control while I work out what to do.

Ianto: I'm pulling us up, woo, bit wobbly. But okay. Wings are holding.  It's basically like a big expensive glider! (laughs) I'm flying a spaceship!

Zeynep: Yes, you are. You get points for that. You'll get even more for landing it.

Ianto: Won't I just.

(Ephraim yelling gets louder)

Ianto: That door's really not holding. (thudding) He's pretty strong!

Zeynep: I've a suggestion.

Ianto: Yeah?

Zeynep: On the control panel, is there one for environmental control? It should be the far left.

Ianto: Uh, yup.

Zeynep: And is it online?

Ianto: Yeah.

Zeynep: Okay, see the settings for the passenger cabin? Raise the temperature as high as it will go. And if you can, lower the cabin pressure and turn off the air supply.

(thud)

Ianto: Wha-?

Zeynep: Found them?

Ianto: Yeah. (controls clicking)

(yelling and thudding)

Zeynep: It should make him drowsy, like being on top of a mountain wrapped in a blanket.

Ianto: That's a curious way of talking about oxygen starvation.

Zeynep: It's him or you. We want you unhindered and him dozing don't we.

(more yelling)

Ianto: Yeah.

Zeynep: Come on, they always turn the heat up in the cabin after takeoff. Keeps the cattle docile.

Ianto: Cattle?

Zeynep: I grew up in a lovely little fishing village. Can't move for now for skyscrapers and tourists who think it's Spain. Actual Spain. They sing Una Paloma Blanca round the pool at night.

Ianto: I'm sorry

Zeynep: Oh, I'm just bitter. Now, my brother? He'd tell you he earns a fortune and has a lot of curvy girlfriends. My brother is an idiot.

(yelling and thudding trail off)

Ianto: He stopped.

Zeynep: Good. Because we can now discount Mr. Salt being...

Ianto: A zombie.

Zeynep: Thanks. Not going to say the word. I'm no expert but, they don't nap, do they? So, what happened to the passengers?

Ianto: I don't know. Uh, like I said they were all chatting away and then- something happened to the ship.  Screaming. My leg hurt.

Zeynep: Are you sure that's the order?

Ianto: yeah! Well, (pause) I mean- (pause) What else, can the order be? were we attacked by an outside force? If it's some kind of virus then? I'm doing the wrong thing. I can't land the ship! Not if there's an alien bacteria on board. I need to-

Zeynep: Okay. It's just-  What were you doing before the crash.

Ianto: I was serving drinks.

Zeynep: Ah. Sky butler.

Ianto: Mhmm. Champagne. Ridiculous conditions to have it in—no flavor at altitude for a start—but rich people do love champagne at height. Lots of champagne and then some coffee.

Zeynep: And you served the drinks?

Ianto: (smugly) Oh yes! Everyone had a coffee. Even the pilots. Which was good as I worked hard  to make it taste just right. Couldn't do anything with the champagne but the coffee? You know the secret is all in the-

Zeynep: You didn't drink any yourself?

Ianto: No, I was busy serving it.

Zeynep: And then?

Ianto: Something happened to the ship and the screaming started. No wait, the screaming started and then- then something happened.

Zeynep: I think it's not a space virus. I think there was a drug in the coffee.

Ianto: Oh.

Zeynep: You know how you got on board to stop something bad happening? You seem to have poisoned everyone

Ianto: Now look here-

Zeynep: I'm not blaming you, just pointing out it's not your lucky day.

Ianto: But- Mr. Salt, could a poison have done that? Turned him into a raging lunatic?

Zeynep: Have you ever read the side effects of sleeping pills?

Ianto: (scoffs)

Zeynep: Just saying. The important point is that you poured the drinks. You're being framed.

Ianto: Listen, what I'm gonna tell you is gonna sound odd.

Zeynep: Says the poisoner on a spaceship.

Ianto: Yeah. The organization I'm working for, we're investigating a conspiracy, a big one. That may sound a little bizarre-

Zeynep: Oh no, we have those here all the time. The minister's niece would like a house building on a public park? She gets a house. Chemical waste kills all the fish in the river? The police are completely unable to find a link to the factory upstream. It's the will of Allah. More or less, we've had conspiracies since the sultans.

Ianto: Oh, good. You're the first person I've told about this who's not narrowed their eyes at me.

Zeynep: You can't see me Mr. Jones, I could be squinting right now.

Ianto: Ephraim Salt, I found out he knew something about The Committee. I came on board so I could find out what he knew.

Zeynep: And did they know that you knew that he knew? Did he know that you knew? Did he know that they knew that you knew that he knew that you knew?

Ianto: And now the mocking. Look, I wanted to get close to Salt to find out what he knew. Oh, god, you've ruined it now!

Zeynep: I get the point Mr. Jones.

Ianto: I heard he was at risk. I needed to protect him.

Zeynep: He gave you something, didn't he?

Ianto: Yeah. Data stick of some kind. I can't play it back here. Still gotta find a way of getting off the ship.

Zeynep: Tricky.

Ianto: Yeah.

Zeynep: I think you may have walked into a flying trap. If Ephraim Salt's first ever space flight crashes, killing everyone on board, no one is going to find out what he had to say.

Ianto: But-

Zeynep: And if the ship lands safely, you're going to be very arrested.

Ianto: Oh.

Zeynep: Oh, goodness me, Mr. Jones. Being a spy is a very complicated business.

Ianto: You're enjoying this aren't you?

Zeynep: Whatever gives you that idea? (chuckles)

Ianto: Listen, there's something I should-

Computer: (beeping) Glide control engaged.

Ianto: Oh.

Zeynep: Is that the autopilot working again?

Ianto: Yyyyes, but I didn't switch it on. And- (switch flipping twice) (sighs) I can't switch it off.

Computer: (beeping) Input override. (beeping) Input override. (beeping) Input override.

Ianto: We're change course. I don't know what's happening.

(low rumble crescendos as the ship becomes less stable)

Zeynep: Oh, Mr. Jones I don't know how to help you!

Ianto: Right. we've gotta bring it under control. Can you hear me? I need your help now!

(hold music)

Ianto: Oh. HELLO!

Recorded voice: Thank you for holding.

Ianto: HEY! HELLO!

Recorded voice: your call is important to us. One of our agents will be with you shortly to present you with a wealth of insurance possibilities, ensuring that, whatever happens, we've got you covered!

Ianto: This! Is! Ridiculous!

Recorded voice: thank you for holding.

(rumbling gets louder)

(hold music stops)

Zeynep: Sorry, about that. Are you still there?

Ianto: Not going anywhere, help me get this thing under control?

Zeynep: uhhh-

Ianto: uh?

Zeynep: My manager came over. He wanted to have a little chat.

Ianto: (mock pleasantly) Oh that's always good!

Zeynep: uh huh. I've been on this call for a very long time and it's been a very long time since the sale went through.

Ianto: And you can hardly tell him the truth.

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, is there anything more I can help you with?

Ianto: Everything. Sell me everything.  My credit's good for it.

Zeynep: But-

Ianto: Just open up the screen, tick all the boxes, and charge me! Twice! I'm gonna get you a bonus!

Zeynep: A very good choice, Mr. Jones.

Ianto: I thought so.

Zeynep: So, to confirm, that's: building insurance, contents insurance, medical insurance, car insurance, conservatory insurance-

Ianto: W- do- the- we- don't have a- Yes! Nevermind! Yup, yup yup, all of that!

Zeynep: And are you happy for me to use the card details we have on file?

(large thud)

Ianto:(screaming) YEEEEES! YEEEES!

Zeynep: That's all gone through Mr. Jones. Congratulations. Please check the policy documents when they turn up in your email. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Ianto: THE SHIP'S GONE INTO NOSEDIVE!

Zeynep: I thought it was gliding?

Ianto: SO DID I!

Zeynep: I've got the files up in front of me. There should be a series of switches underneath glide control.

Ianto: Th- there are, (switches flipping) they don't do anything! (more switches flipping, repeatedly)

Zeynep: I'm not sure you should treat controls on a spaceship like that. Just saying, I mean, you could end up on Mars.

Ianto: That- might be an improvement!

(explosion)

Ianto: (quietly) Oh.

Zeynep: What?

Ianto: Oh, uh two things, we seem to be leveling out and I've managed to get some course data up on the screen.

Zeynep: Really? A course?

Ianto: Yeah. Nothing to do with me. Map of the world! Red line! Me at one end and at the other, zooming in, Oh! Western Turkey!

Zeynep: I'm in western Turkey.

Ianto: Small world.

Zeynep: Should I be worried?

Ianto: It's quite a coincidence. Did you buy any lottery tickets this week?

Zeynep: No?

Ianto: Perhaps you should've.

Zeynep: Do you think there could be some connection?

Ianto: Mmmm no. no. no.

Zeynep: This super google you installed on my pc could that be it?

Ianto: Perhaps you'd better just uninstall that now.

Zeynep: W- how do I do that then?

Ianto: Got an axe?

Zeynep: They don't give those to fire wardens. (typing) I'm looking up any connection between the city of Izmir and your conspiracy. Does it have a name?

Ianto: Erebus.

Zeynep: E for echo, R for Romeo, E for echo, B for Bertie, U for umbrella, S for sugar.

Ianto: Yess.

Zeynep: (computer beeps) No, (sighs) nothing. I'll say one thing about your software, it gets cross when it doesn't find anything.

Ianto: Yes, tetchy.

Zeynep: Funny, trying to think of anything odd. I mean the research firm who leased the top floor haven't been in for a few days. It's almost like they knew something.

Ianto: Right?

Zeynep: Wait. that sounds you levels of crazy. Not that- (Ianto: thanks.) you are crazy.

Ianto: Thanks.

Zeynep: Sorry.

Ianto: Can you think of any other reason why we'd be heading to your neck of the woods?

Zeynep: Well, we have some nice beaches and some good ruins on the coast and oh, yes there's a lovely shop over the road that sells divine baklava.

Ianto: Serious reasons? Military installations? Aerospace engineering firms uh-?

Zeynep: That's unfair, we have lots of military things everywhere. Narrowing them down takes time.

Ianto: What about Istanbul? That's just up from you, isn't it?

Zeynep: Just? Good luck getting there. Traffic's really bad. There's probably already a queue of angry spaceships waiting outside. But I can't think why you'd come here. Smelly old Izmir, factories, quarries, and smog. Oh.

Ianto: what?

Zeynep: No, just enjoy me putting two and two together. Nothing. There's a nice roman theatre maybe you're going there.

Ianto: What are you not telling me?

Zeynep: Honestly, nothing.

Ianto: What?

(pause)

Zeynep: This call center... turns out, it's owned by Ephraim Salt. (pause) (exhale) Saying it out loud. That's a bit of a coincidence.

Ianto: Not really, he owns a lot of things.

Zeynep: Oh, come on, Mr. Jones. It's got to all be connected. That's basic spy stuff. Ephraim salt owns the SkyPuncher, the satellite you destroyed, and a building in the city you're heading towards. You can't ignore that.

Ianto: There's- one other coincidence. You called me.

Zeynep: Oh, blame the computer, I always do. That bit's dull. It's just weird though. I get why someone would try to kill Salt. I even get why they'd destroy his satellite. I just don't get why your ship would be coming here.

Ianto: Don't you?

Zeynep: My mother-in-law would kill me if she heard me say this, but there's really not that much in Izmir.

Ianto: Isn't there?

Zeynep: Oh.

Ianto: Calmly.

Zeynep: Allah, Allah, the building! You're heading for this building! You're going to blow up the building!

Ianto: Quietly.

Zeynep: What?

Ianto: If you could panic quietly please, I don't want you to upset you co-workers.

Zeynep: (angrily) You are kidding!

Ianto: No.

Zeynep: Heavens, Allah!

Ianto: Listen to me. You have children?

Zeynep: Yes!

Ianto: You're out for a walk with them, there's a car crash, what do you do?

Zeynep: I-- I uh- turn them around and walk away talking quietly about something else.

Ianto: Do that now!

Zeynep: Don't tell me how to react! Especially not in that tone of voice! You're flying a bomb at me!

Ianto: Believe me I've done this kind of thing before. I've been in this situation. (pause) Well- look, I need to work a couple of things out and I need your help, okay? Can you give me that?

Zeynep: (shakily) Okay.

Ianto: You're sure?

Zeynep: Absolutely. Just a moment. (chair scrapes on floor)

(pause)

(fire alarm goes off in the background)

Zeynep: (distantly) Fire! Everyone! Fire! (crowd noises) That's right, exit down, everybody out. Listen to me. Fire warden. No, go now! No texts! Fire! Fire! Fire! (chair scraping) (closer again) There.

Ianto: Mm what did you just do?

Zeynep: Got a lot of people to safety.

Ianto: But- they might be...

Zeynep: Suspects? Really?

Ianto: Mmm yeee, forget about it. Just working on a theory.

Zeynep: Listen, how's my tone, am I sounding calm?

Ianto: Yes, actually.

Zeynep: Then pay attention, Mr. Jones. I want you to get in touch with your bosses MI5, the CIA, whatever. This is very serious. I want everyone on this, okay? (buzzing noise) Full spy emergency! Unleash everyone! If a black helicopter isn't hovering overhead in one minute, I'm going to be very disappointed!

Ianto: Ah.

Zeynep: Is there anyone I can call for you Mr. Jones? The Pentagon?

Ianto: Listen, when I said I was a spy.... actually, I really am just.... a butler.

Zeynep: WHAT?

Ianto: I'm not a spy. Not quite, I mean I do work for a secret organization.

Zeynep: Ah?

Ianto: I make the coffee. And do the paperwork.  Neatly.

Zeynep: WHAT?

Ianto: I'm telling you the truth.

(pause)

(fire alarm stops)

Zeynep: Enough of that racket. The building's empty now.

Ianto: Listen, you asked if you could call people, and you can. Phone your government. If we're heading for your city, then I need them to shoot this plane down before we get there. okay?

Zeynep: Of course, but-

Ianto:  I really don't matter. It's got to be done.

Zeynep: And is there a password I can give them?

Ianto: I don't know! It's not the kind of thing I'd know!

Zeynep: So, if you're not a spy, what are you doing on that ship? Why would they send you up there?

Ianto: They didn't! I'm just one of- the little people. My boss has gone missing. He's on the trail of this conspiracy and the others- well, they were- busy.

Zeynep: Being proper spies?

Ianto: Yes! So, I thought, you know, it's my duty!

Zeynep: You were showing off.

Ianto: NO! Yes! I guess. Look, it was the right thing to do. I worked this out by myself, and I wanted- (pause) no- well- I- (pause) I wanted them to like me!

Zeynep: You wanted to impress them by nearly getting killed? Wow. They must be really lovely people.

Ianto: They are! Th- look, they are. Well, I mean- th- (deep breath) The thing is, the thing- is, I've had a tough time winning their trust back. After what happened to Lisa-

Zeynep: Lisa?

Ianto: My girlfriend, she worked for the same firm. She got horribly wounded in the line of duty.

Zeynep: I'm sorry.

Ianto: I tried to help her, but they- killed her.

Zeynep: (in disbelief) Your friends killed her?

Ianto: Put like that it doesn't sssssound- that- but anyway, they- they did the best they could.

Zeynep: They murdered your girlfriend!

Ianto: Not- not, murdered exactly...I-

Zeynep: Mr. Jones, you're an idiot!

Ianto: (chuckles) They-th-

Zeynep: Listen to me! Family, friends, they're always more important. No company is worth dying for!

Ianto: You don't understand th-

Zeynep: I trusted you. Really, I have. You have a nice voice. I actually really do believe you're in a spaceship hurtling towards me. but 'm not sure I'm going to take anymore advice from you. Not just now.

Ianto: Please!

Zeynep: I'm going up to the top floor.

Ianto: Don't put me on hold!

(clicking noise)

Zeynep: Don't worry, bluetooth headset. Long range. Can nip out to the shops. Not that we do. Not when Ryeth's on duty.

Ianto: Why are you going to the top floor?

Zeynep: Because you're not listening to me. I told you! The space is leased to a research company, been here a month. Kept themselves to themselves, don't know the good restaurants to have lunch in. And, as I said. None of them came into work for the last few days.

Ianto: Yeah, but they could be meeting clients or-

Zeynep: I'm finding out for certain. I gave you a lead and you didn't want to follow it up. When a building's in danger, you always want to look at the people who didn't show up that day!

Ianto: You really are sounding like a conspiracy theorist.

Zeynep: Says you!

(pause)

(door hinge squeaking)

Zeynep: Here I am.

Ianto: This isn't gonna accomplish anything. What are they called?

Zeynep: Harkness Industries.

Ianto: I take that back, you've gotta get in there.

Zeynep: See?

Ianto: I do. Get in there.

(high pitched static)

Zeynep: This door is very locked. (panting) (static) Can't- (static)get a purchase- handle

(static continues in background))

Ianto: Hello? I'm losing you. There's a lot of static.

Zeynep: Funny, (unintelligible) the signal- good. There's a funny, computer inside, really odd.

Ianto: Can you step away from the door?

Zeynep: What's that?

Ianto: Step away from the door!

Zeynep: Right. (static fades) Right. There's something in that room. I cant get in.

Ianto: My turn to suggest a fire extinguisher.

Zeynep: Good call.

(pause)

(static increases)

(Zeynep grunts while hitting the door with the fire extinguisher twice)

Zeynep: (grumbles) That door is not giving. For a glass door, that's really strong. I'm just going to run down the corridor and really charge at it.

(footsteps)

(Zeynep grunts and hits the door again)

Zeynep: Ugh! It won't give! nothing! I've achieved nothing!

Ianto: I wouldn't say that, when you ran back and forth my course changed slightly.

Zeynep: What?

Ianto: This ship, it's not homing in on the building... it's homing in on you.

Zeynep: What! How can you even tell?

Ianto: I'm getting very close.

Zeynep: But- but there's no proof!

Ianto: Run up and down the corridor again.

Zeynep: No.

Ianto: BAAAAWK bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk-

Zeynep: FINE! (foosteps in the background)

Zeynep: Got- to the end. And now?

Ianto: You're going the other way.

Zeynep: You're just guessing! You can't know!

Ianto: And now I can tell you're running on the spot to try and trick me.

Zeynep: Ugh!

Ianto: The nose cone twitches just a little, that's all, and the flight path adjusts just, very slightly.

Zeynep: Oh, Allah Allah. You're joking. I know you're not, but I can't think of anything else to say.

Ianto: The SkyPuncher has been homing in on your headset ever since we re-entered the atmosphere.

Zeynep: How?

Ianto: You were right. It was a- a trap, carefully planned to bring down Ephraim Salt's empire. sSbotage the spaceship, people will think he's a fool. Blow up his most expensive satellite, he'll be bankrupt. And, if the ships still going, get it to smash into an office building. People will think he's a corrupt sweatshop owner.

Zeynep: But it's actually quite a nice office.

Ianto: But that's not what the papers will say.

Zeynep: What about me?

Ianto: What about you?

Zeynep: Why me? Why did I phone you?

Ianto: The Committee will have prepared things neatly. Hacked into the computer told it to lock onto the plane, find a signal, dial it. (breath intake) I'm afraid, by keeping me alive-

Zeynep: I've brought the thing right here. Where are you?

Ianto: Not far out of the city. See what you mean about the river (chuckles).

Zeynep: What do I do? wWhat do I do?

Ianto: Well-

Zeynep: I hang up. That's what I do. Of course.

Ianto: No. No!

Zeynep: What? Seriously?

Ianto: If the call terminates then the ship will crash onto the city. listen, just take off the headset.

Zeynep: I- I can't!

Ianto: What?

Zeynep: Take off the headset, it switches off.

Ianto: Why would you do that?

Zeynep: Bathroom breaks.

Ianto: (scoffs disbelieving)

Zeynep: Mr. Jones? What do I do?

(pause)

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

(pause)

Ianto: I'm so very sorry, you'll have to keep talking. There's no way out for either of us.

(hold music)

Ianto: Hello? Hello? HELLO? Don't do this please! Don't do this!

Recorded voice: Thank you for holding. Your call is important to us. One of our agents will be with you shortly to present you with a wealth of insurance possibilities, ensuring that, whatever happens, we've got you covered!

Ianto: Please! There's not much time left! (Recorded voice: Thank you for holding.) There really isn't and- I'm scared! I don't wanna be alone.

(hold music stops)

Zeynep: you're asking me to die.

Ianto: Again, I am so sorry. I wish it was just me. Well, I don't.

Zeynep: No. I don't want to die either. (pause) Sorry, talking with my mouth full (sighs) figured there was no point in waiting for my lunch)

Ianto: You go right ahead.

Zeynep: Spiced kofta wrap. My husband made them.

Ianto: Sounds delicious

Zeynep: Too spicy actually, you know what men are like

Ianto: Yup.

(pause)

Zeynep:(crying) I can't believe this is happening. You sure this isn't a hoax?

Ianto: Wish it was.

Zeynep: I don't even live in the city.

Ianto: Sorry

Zeynep: I don't like it much. (sniffs) You're asking me to die for a load of people I don't even know.

Ianto: It's the right thing.

Zeynep: It's my duty. Look where that's got you.

Ianto: (resigned) Yeah.

Zeynep: You're an idiot.

Ianto: So you keep saying.

Zeynep: I could hang up now. Go stand at the bus stop, wave up at you as you smack into the city center.

Ianto: But you're not going to. I know you're not going to.

Zeynep: You don't know anything about me. What's my name?

Ianto: Sorry?

Zeynep: (angrily) What's my name?

Ianto: You- didn't tell me.

Zeynep: I did. You're asking me to die and you don't even know my name!

Ianto: Sorry, I-

Zeynep: ZEYNEP!

Ianto: Pleased to meet you, it's a very pretty name.

Zeynep: (crying again) Not really, now you just being nice. (sniffs) (pause) What's the view like?

Ianto: Flying over the city? There's lots of it.

Zeynep: The mayor would be delighted if you could smack into one of the old bits. Lots of people are dying to turn them into office blocks. (pause) I- shouldn't have said die.

Ianto: No.

Zeynep: I can't even hang up to call my family. My Family! Why did it have to be me? Why not Rachel? She's got no one! And she's a miserable cow and- (sighs) (chewing) Forget it.

Ianto: Zeynep?

Zeynep: Mr. Jones?

Ianto: I am so sorry about this

Zeynep: Stop apologizing, I'm not going to forgive you. It's not your fault.

Ianto: No, (inhale) we're just the little people. (sighs)

Zeynep: Yeah. We never get to make the decisions. You just get backed up against the wall and told to do the right thing. And oddly enough? That's never what we want.

Ianto: Yeah (chuckles)

Zeynep: Still, sat in the boss's chair, dripping chili oil onto his desk looking out at the view. I can see a small dot in the sky, that's you, isn't it?

Ianto: Probably, um, listen-

Zeynep: That's all I will do. Just you and me talking 'til the end. I don't want you to be alone. (dissolving into tears again) I can't think of anything worse than being on a plane about to crash, seeing the ground get closer and closer and there being no way out.

Ianto: Zeynep. (shifting)

Zeynep: yes?

Ianto: listen, I've- (pause) found a parachute and- (pause) the pilot has an ejector seat.

(pause)

Ianto: D'you hear what I said?

Zeynep: Yes. (pause) So that's how it is. (small clatter as Zeynep sets the tupperware aside) I'm not hungry anymore.

Ianto: Zeynep, I'm sorry.

Zeynep: Don't be. One of us has a way out. Look at you. You got to do your duty. Escaping with the vital data stick. So heroic! Those lovely people you work with may even buy you a beer. And me? I'm only the little person after all. I don't even get to say goodbye to my family. Off you go Zeynep! Sacrifice yourself! Inshallah! That's what we say, when we cross the road. We don't look left or right, we just step out into traffic and trust to the will of Allah.

Ianto: I don't know what else to say-

Zeynep: It's not good enough! What am I dying for? SO that some people I've never heard of can make more money?

Ianto: Look, give me their names. The names of your children, your husband, I'll talk to them!

Zeynep: (angrily) NO! I'm not letting you anywhere near them.

(pause)

Ianto: We're over the river. (pause) Looks quite pretty from up here.

Zeynep: Wouldn't get any closer to it if I were you. (sniffs) You've not far to go.

Ianto: Is there a bigger body of water coming up? We could try and land in it or something?

Zeynep: Nope! Concrete and people and then little me. We're just outside town. Wait 'til you pass a really scrappy park and then eject. Otherwise you'll smack into a tower block. Would be a bit ironic.

Ianto: Thanks.

Zeynep: (deep breath) I can see you on the horizon. What big teeth you have.

Ianto: Not long now. look, I just wanna say-

Zeynep: Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. Jones?

Ianto: uh-

Zeynep: Inshallah!

(hold music)

(low rumbling slowly gets louder as the ship gets closer to crashing)

(atmospheric music starts in the background)

Ianto: This is what Torchwood does isn't it Jack? Ruins everyone. Everyone it touches. I don't care. (inhale) not anymore. Zeynep was right. (inhale) Here it comes. Here it comes. Zeynep, I'm sorry. (ejects)

(screaming)

Recorded voice: have you considered the benefits of changing your contents insurance provider? Let us give you a truly memorable-

Ianto: NO NO NO NOOOOOO!

(parachute deploys)

(Ianto gasping)

Zeynep: Thank you for holding.

Ianto: ZEYNEP!

Zeynep: Whatever happens we've got it covered Mr. Jones.

Ianto: W- wha- what are you doing?

Zeynep: Running away! Goodbye!

Ianto: NOO!!!!

(call disconnects)

(ship crashes in the distance)

(atmospheric music fades out)

(wind blowing)

(phone rings)

Ianto: Really? (phone beeps as he picks up)

Zeynep: Hello?

Ianto: Wha-?

Zeynep: Am I speaking to Mr. Jones?

Ianto: YES! YES! YOU'RE ALIVE!

Zeynep: I ran out into the quarry behind the office, got as far away as I could, then threw my headset away into a sandbank. The spaceship? Well, it's fine. It won't fly again, but there may even be survivors.

Ianto: You got out! You saved them!

Zeynep: So did you! Haven't the little people done well.

Ianto: YES!

Zeynep: I can see you up there. I've always fancied trying a parachute jump!

Ianto: I HAVEN'T! Zeynep: Tough day. Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. Jones!

Ianto: Thank you! Everything's covered!

Zeynep: Then I'll wish you a happy landing!

Ianto: But- uh- aren't you gonna (pause) I mean don't you wanna meet up?

Zeynep: (laughing)

Ianto: I wanna thank you!

Zeynep: (still laughing) you've got my number. Inshallah Mr. Jones! (call disconnects)

Ianto: Inshallah Zeynep! Inshallah!

(Torchwood theme in full)

[thecruelangelsthesiss]

am i cooked based of my fav things??

im into persona 5, persona 3, persona 4, doll eye, homestuck, neon genesis evangelion, msi, computers, bedfellows, serial expiriments lain, grimes, will wood, slime rancher, ultrakill, azumanga, and lucky star

[guiltiest-gear]

God Bless my Laptop

I fear she is not much longer for this world, after her years of service.

Her keyboard has been through the wringer, with many times I have accidentally spilled my drinks onto her, and my control key has gone completely missing, unable to be properly replaced.

I've encountered weird bugs, run many ill advised expiriments on her, and overwrote her native Windows 10 installation with Linux Mint.

Just recently 2 of her 3 USB A ports have given out, meaning her peripheral capabilities are extremely limited.

She's dirty and grimy, with deep running stains and grime that I have given up hope of washing out without completely destroying her.

Each passing day I grow more fearful of that fateful crash which she will never wake up. I find it hard to let her go.

I've plastered her cover with stickers, played many games out and about with her, completed many late night homework assignments, and formed a close personal bond deeper than I would ever think possible.

Please, offer her your blessings; my bravest, forever loyal soldier.

May your laptop pass peacefully in the night, and may your memories of her forever last, so that her will is passed to the next of this burden

It is truly a sad moment when her passing will come, but let her be remembered for her perseverance, and let her be remembered for the irreplaceable memories she has given you

May her CPU rest easy, and may her body and soul move forth to computer heaven

[slushitheicefoxkin]

Expiry Date (Chikn Nuggit Infection AU Fanfic POV : Slushi)

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Chapter 3 - Promise - Part 1/2

Read Chapter 3 Part 2/2 here

[Image ID: (Note : The original dialogue was coloured so y'know who was speaking, but that's kinda impossible here so I've added a few more sentences here and there, that way, you'll get to know who's talking!)

Milkshek resisted. "I won't leave you behind."

"It's ok. I'm a newt, I can climb this." Old Pea reassured.

Milkshek kneeled down and gently carressed his head with a kiss.

It's clear that I'm the tallest.

"Right, I guess I'll climb up and break the window, then I'll pull you in. " I explained.

It was hard to speak through that noxious fog of sweetness.

Milkshek climbed onto Old Pea.

I turned my head.

Big mistake. I saw the tangled mess of skin flopping in its own filth and fluids, inching closer and closer.

I swallowed my puke and climbed.

I pressed against the glass.

"Here goes nothing." I said to myself.

I bashed the window as hard as my body would let me with the rifle end. A mist of glass flew into the air, I felt them injected into all over my flesh, slipping under my closed eyelids. It burns like hell.

I pulled myself upwards and rolled into a sea of glass.

I felt them pull and tug against my flesh, like millions of paper cuts all over my body. Every movement dragged and pulled at the glass in my skin. I saw red everywhere. It was from me. I can barely keep my eyes open, but closing them makes the pain worse. It felt unreal, but I couldn't scream, not now.

I quickly sweeped the mist away and turned to pull Milkshek, a shard in my neck squirmed in my skin. Old Pea pushed her upwards.

"Babe!" Milkshek shouted.

The thing was way larger than I realised.

It was towering, still progressing at that ever mind numbing constant pace.

Old Pea was already by the window, his hands slipping around the window sill.

We each took both his hands and raised him in.

Milkshek pressed against a switch, light floods and blinds the room.

...

Milkshek stared and gasped.

"Slushi, you're bleeding!"

I looked down, red lined my fur and the ground below. I hadn't even realised the extent of my injury.

Old Pea laid down his backpack and took out a box.

"Hold still." He mumbled, pulling out a pair of tweezers and a bottle of iodine.

Wait, TWEEZERS???!!!! Shit!!

"WAIT! Do we really have to do this?" The words flowed out of my mouth in fumbled panic.

"The wound may get infected." Old Pea replied coldly.

"Slushi, please. Just bear with it, for a while, ok?" said Milkshek.

"Yeah! I can do that, Yeah!" I replied, forcing down my sense of fear.

I can feel my sweat building up in my fur.

"Yeah! Yeah!" I repeated, as if that will make me feel better somehow.

Old Pea turned on a lighter and placed his tweezers under the flame.

It kicked in, I can't breathe. The flame, its's heat, its taunting me. I swallowed as hard as I could. I wished that this moment would last forever, that the imevitable would not come.

I let out a scream.

"WAIT!!!"

I struggled to breathe. I kneeled over, I felt stings in my chest.

"Slushi." Milkshek sat next to me. "You can do this, I believe in you."

I cannot let my friends down.

I slowed down my breath and stared.

"I understand. Let's do this." I replied.

Old Pea nodded, and pulled at the first shard. I felt the shard being ripped off from its tight hug on my flesh. Suddenly, I felt a sharp stab as a cloth made contact. I gritted against my canines.

He moved on to the next one, the one in my neck.

My tears washed away the dust of glass in my eyes.

It felt like forever.

Pain increasing exponentially every time.

"Done." he signalled.

I moved, relief. Air carved in and out of my wounds. A few microshards still writhe in my skin but I felt much better.

"Thank you." I sighed.

I looked around. A bed, books, a computer, all pristine as if time had froze. A family potrait, three kids.

A charger laid on the desk.

"My phone." I realised.

I picked up and shoved it against my phone.

"IT FITS!" I screamed in excitement.

Milkshek gasped.

"Now I need to find a plug, plug, plug..." I scanned every object in the room. I saw it, under the desk. I let out my excitement and relief.

"PLUG!"

"Do any of you have your phones?" I turned to ask.

"Mine... was destroyed." Milkshek mumbled.

"I don't have one." Old Pea replied.

"Wait, you don't?" I turned on the switch, I felt my phone vibrate in response.

"He only uses a PC for streams." Milkshek answered.

A light emitted from my phone.

+99 missed calls.

End ID]

Read Chapter 3 Part 2/2 here

[donnerpartyofone]

I had a dream that I had gotten heavily into a (fictional) indie rock band with a lot of thoughtful, poignant lyrics about life and relationships and stuff. I was telling people, "I don't usually listen to anything like this, but this is so good, it's my new favorite thing!" In reality I haven't listened to anything like that in years.

I started removing myself from poignant, thoughtful music about life and relationships and stuff during and after my Very Abusive Relationship, which semi-permanently alienated me from most forms of sentimental, romantic media--ESPECIALLY media that romanticizes destructive obsessions and shitty behavior, which is practically all media as you may have immediately realized. That stuff used to be fun before I actually lived through it and realized that it's always about infantile egomania and that I actually hate people who have to hurt others in order to feel like they have the slightest shred of efficacy/value/relevance in their own narrow little lives (which is a surprising number of people btw). The /bad romance/ thing seems so monolithic, like the biggest most desirable thing in the world, until you get right up close with your nose to it and you realize it's made out of particle board and vinyl siding and it has to be that big to cast an obscuring shadow over a whole lot of adult babies (sorry, adult baby community, I actually don't mean you) who are hoping you won't notice how spineless and pathetic they are. Spending a few years with someone who made it his business to scare the shit out of me and try to ruin my life, fairly publicly, had the one-two punch of making me feel like I simply wasn't good enough to be in one of those dark and brooding romances because otherwise why would he try to convince me I was nothing--and conversely, leaving me totally disillusioned about dark and brooding romances because I had been up close and seen how the sausage was made and it's not remotely as exotic and delicious as people try to tell you it is. It's just off-brand baby food, left on the shelf long past its expiry.

Right after that was over another factor pulled me away from poignant, thoughtful music about life and relationships and stuff, which was working in an open-plan office next to the tech guy pool. Us sensitive, artistic nerds in the production department had a pretty high-stress job that required constant focus, and we were pretty much only ever noticed by the overlords if one of us screwed something up; we were constantly being monitored not just for poor performance, but for potential political incorrectness or any little thing that could be construed as an HR problem--and in the meantime, the tech guys were literally screaming misogynistic jokes and racial slurs and throwing shit at each other, sometimes hitting us or our computers, but the executives had this hypnosis telling them that tech guys are Valuable so everything they do is OK forever. One of my main coping mechanisms was to get heavily into metal and harsh noise: anything with a cathartically brutal wall-of-sound quality and no discernible lyrics to speak of, that prevented me from having to hear anyone around me or even think about other people and their emotions. This kind of music became a huge passion for me, so in a way it was a net positive experience.

Nowadays I don't have a lot of time for music, which seems crazy even to me, like I don't want to be one of those sociopaths who say they don't listen to music! I just have to spend a LOT of time watching movies, when I have time for A/V entertainment, and I don't drive or have a commute anymore, so that's pretty limiting. When I do have time for music, it's a weird 7-10 split of trashy hype dance music like Atari Teenage Riot or Rob Zombie (or other things I'm too embarrassed to mention atm) to burn off my anxiety and give me a temporary ego boost that I can feel ashamed of later, and on the other hand, really heady, long ambient or experimental compositions, preferably with no vox. I think I'd like to get more into jazz and classical music and I occasionally go down a youtube rabbit hole that I really enjoy, but not much sticks because it turns into information overload and I get distracted.

Sometimes for whatever neurotic reason I have this allergic reaction to our collective preciousness about Human Drama, like why don't we have anything better to think about? There's some Herzog quote, I won't know how to find it, where he wonders why people always make movies about interpersonal problems, why not the drama of insect life, of cellular activities, of geological metamorphosis? And I really feel that way, often. But for some reason I am now dreaming that I've found some thoughtful, poignant indie rock band with lyrics about life and relationships and stuff that I cannot get enough of and I'm telling the world. I wonder what shifted to make me imagine that.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Yandere dadzawa with a autistic reader if you are okay with that if not you can leave out the autistic part if you don’t know how to write it

hello! I 'm sorry to say that I do not write for mental illnesses such as Autism and ADHD since I have little to no expirience with them and how they affect the human brain. 'if you could elaborate more on What Autism is and how it affects a person that would be great and I will write for it. I am also sorry for replying So late. I was on vacation and I could not find time to write it, and when ever I did, I was interrupted. and when I would close my computer all my progress would be deleted and I would have to start from the beigining. Currently I am writing Dadzawa headeanons I will tag you in it, it is in my drafts right now. (please excuse all spelling errors I am in a rush) And thank you so muchfor requesting!