#fast installing elevator

[moran-with-a-g]

Ugly sobbing in bed at 3am because I took a shower earlier and when I finished there was a dead cockroach next to my foot that wasn't there when I got in and because I sat down to eat afterwards and then I saw this huge alive motherfucker on my chair and it started flying around the apartment and tried to fly at me.

I managed to get the alive one out and the dead one is still on the floor of my shower and I'm too scared to try and move it because I'm scared it's actually alive and also because it's literally massive and I cannot touch it.

Yeah anyways did not expect to get a full on panic attack because of a goddamn cockroach. I don't usually have such a big issue with them. But here we are.

[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera���s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

[bitters-n-sweets]

scoliosis — michael "robby" robinavitch x fem!reader You have scoliosis and it's been killing your back all day. Robby notices and decides to help you out with it.

warnings: suggestive content, minors GO AWAY | reader has scoliosis - not bad, but def painful after hours of standing, running etc. masterlist a/n: anyone else got scoliosis? mine is killing me today || side note, I've been basically writing one fic a day for a week, my brain is on FIRE and I might take a break soon lol

Crack-ety-crack

You groan as you stretch your back. You only have 3 hours left on your shift, and though it will feel like eternity, you can't wait to get back to your bed and reset.

You’re perched slightly sideways in your chair, trying to avoid pressure on your elevated right hip. It’s second nature by now—awkward but necessary. The real exhaustion comes from always being aware of how you're sitting, how you're standing, how you're moving—if you don't want it to gradually get worse.

You sigh again, and Robby notices.

"You okay?"

"Yep," You enunciate the P. "Just charting, boss."

Robby finds your behavior—and posture—odd but keeps walking. You’ve stretched five times today by his count, and that’s unusual. He knows he needs to ask you about it, and he will.

A while later, he sees you dead-hanging on the break room's door frame. Someone—he doesn't know who—had installed it for their "gains" and now you're using it. With your scrubs riding up as your spine relaxes, showing your bare waist.

It’s not indecent. Not really. But the sight punches the air out of his lungs harder than he expects. Heat rises to his ears as he steps behind you, instinctively blocking the view from anyone else.

He clears his throat.

"Sorry!" You say, "Was just relaxing my back."

Robby’s frown is back. "What’s going on with your back?"

You shrug, casual. "Scoliosis. It flares up sometimes, so I stretch."

"I’ve never seen you stretch this much during a shift."

"Yeah, it’s worse today. No idea why." You wave him off like it’s nothing. "It’ll go away once I sleep."

"You taking anything for it?"

"Pssh, no." You grin. "I’ll be fine. Rest usually does the trick."

Robby doesn’t look convinced. "You wanna leave early?"

"No," You shake your head. "Seriously Robby, I'm okay."

With a tap on his arm, you're on your merry way to see your patients. Robby sighs, because he knows how stubborn you can be, and he's gonna have to force you to rest.

"Alright, Mr. Evans, you're all patched up and ready to be discharged." You smile at the older man and stand up, a groan following suit as you put a hand on your back.

"Hon, you might wanna check that back." Mr. Evans comments, "You sound older than me!"

You're about to argue back when someone cuts your line, "Tell me about it. Come with me." Robby motions and leaves, meaning you need to follow him fast.

"Robby—"

"Nuh-uh, get in here." He opens the door to the on-call room and you go in with a grumble.

"I'm fine, Robby."

"No, you're not." He says, locking the door behind him. "You're in pain, so let me help you."

"What are you—" Robby moves you so your back is turned towards him, and he gently places his hands on your shoulder.

He's giving you a massage.

"Rob—"

"It's gonna help with your pain." Robby says. "Now lean forward a little."

You do as he says, leaning your body weight on your arms while he makes his way down your back, his hands now on your lower back, under your scrubs. It's too intimate. You feel your cheeks getting hot. And it doesn't help that he's now so close to you, you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

Robby pauses for a second. "Is this okay?" he asks, voice lower now, closer to your ear.

You nod, quickly. "Yeah. Just… didn’t expect you to be this good at it."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Let’s just say I’ve had practice. Not on coworkers, though."

You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk. "Am I special, Dr. Robinavitch?"

He grins, his hands stilling briefly on your waist. "Yeah. You are."

You let out a shaky breath as he works you, and you can practically feel the smirk on Robby's face.

Robby chuckles. "That feel good?"

You hum, trying not to enjoy it too much.

You try to focus on anything but Robby’s hands—his clinical, practiced, totally professional hands—that you just realized are huge, and are currently pressed on your hip. But your body betrays you.

A soft, breathy sound slips out of your throat. It’s not loud, but it’s definitely a moan.

"That good, huh?"

"Robby, I swear—"

Robby chuckles, deep and smug. "I mean, I was hoping to make you feel better, so… I’ll take it as a win."

You try to twist around to glare at him, but his hands hold you steady. "Don’t move. You’ll undo all my good work."

"Cocky."

"Confident," he corrects. "And apparently very effective."

You let out a groan—not from the massage this time. "You are insufferable."

"And yet," he murmurs, dipping his thumbs just below the curve of your waist, "you’re letting me keep going."

You bite your lip. He notices. Oh, he definitely notices.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says, quieter now, closer to your neck. "Or if you want me to stop."

You don’t say a word.

And he doesn’t stop.

"Good girl."

[bellyyearner]

Office life at 550+ lbs

Word count: 1061

Extreme obesity, mobility issues, work environment, feedee perspective

No gender mentioned POV

Being a working feedee is hard sometimes, especially when your gain slows down to a snails pace despite how much you've been eating. In the last 3 years you've only put on another 40lbs, but you have an easy job that pays the bills and allows you to live comfortably so you can't complain too much. The only part of this job you hate though, is the journey inside.

As you exit your car you can already feel the sweat forming between your rolls, it's been taking a few tries lately to stand up after swinging your hefty left leg out onto the concrete. You've even questioned if you should bring your car to the shop to check the suspension just in case your fat ass crashing back down onto the driver seat a half dozen times a day might be causing issues. At the very least you were thankful for your personal parking spot only being about 250ft from the elevator up to the office floor. Only 100ft from the buildings entrance and the cold AC running throughout the building.

And so you begin your slow pendulous waddle, thighs scraping against each other with every step, causing so much friction your jeans always have a distinct wear pattern only a couple weeks after buying them. One foot infront the other you waddle, repeating the laboured motion as your breath grows heavy and your belly slaps against the tops of your thighs. Halfway to the door now you hear the clicking of heels against the concrete, 2 interns whizzing by you without a word. You can't even imagine moving as fast as they do, or why they'd even want to move that fast in the first place. Your sense of urgency left you a couple hundred pounds ago.

Another 20 heavy steps later you reach the door, a mailman on the other side who was about to leave opens it for you, clearly staring at your mammoth size and brow covered in sweat. You make it inside and can barely catch your breath to say thank you before he's gone. The AC graces your hot sweaty skin and you feel relief, you spot your double wide chair HR had fought to get installed for you last year, and plop down on it with a huff. All there's left to do is catch your breath for a couple minutes, walk 60 steps through the lobby, turn right, walk 10 steps to the elevator, a minute of standing, and another 30 steps to your cubicle. Where you will then chow down on a couple snacks you brought and rehydrate before looking at spreadsheets and grazing on more food for 8 hours. A routine you had grown so accustomed to that it became second nature.

You look at the handle bar bolted into the wall and remember when you found it insulting, but now it was a necessity. Gripping the bar you start to stand hoping a second try isn't needed because of how many people were in the lobby. You can feel your heart quake and your knees whine but thankfully you hauled your lard laden ass off the seat in one attempt.

The second journey begins and the heavy waddle ensues, gut bouncing, thighs scraping, mouth open and breathing loudly enough that you're attracting attention. You try to ignore their stares but it's only fueling your appetite, already making a mental list of what you're going to grab from the vending machine once you get off the elevator. A few minutes later you round the corner and take the final few steps only to notice a sign on the elevator. You can't read it yet but you can feel your heart sinking already. It can't be right? They would've told you. They would've sent an email or a text. "Out of order".

Panic sets in, you can't climb 4 flights of stairs, you bought a one story house for good reason, you haven't had to climb more than a curb in years at this point. Your mind is growing frantic as you feel the burden your legs are under grow stronger, anticipating if you're really gonna be expected to climb the stairs.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Susy in HR

"Hey! I'm so sorry 'your name', this just happened like an hour ago and I totally forgot to tell you. The elevator is having some major issues and we don't know when it'll be fixed. I dug up that old paper work you filed 6 months ago about work from home and I'm gonna push it through asap! I've sent Lucy downstairs with a work laptop for you to bring home, just take a couple days off while we get all the paperwork in order."

Relief washes over you as you hear the distinct clicking of heels coming down the stairs. You steady your breath and try to seem unfazed, almost certain you look ridiculous.

Lucy: "Hey 'your name', here's your laptop and a cherry cola, figured you would need it before heading back to your car ;). You know I'm gonna miss seeing you around here, less stuff to talk about and no one to gawk at. You have my number so just let me know if you need me to come over to help you adjust"

A quick farewell and her heels were clicking back up the stairs, but all you could think about was how you're never gonna see the inside of that office again. With no where to go and no decency to be upheld there was no reason you wouldn't finally break 600lbs. You chug the Cola, wanting to make one final show for the coworkers and acquaintances you've made over the years, and start the final journey, one to immobility.

With a gassy belly swaying from side to side, your humongous thighs atop fattened lard laden calves carry you through the lobby one last time. Not even trying to hide your burps and groans you walk out of the building, skipping the chair by the door you once saw as a refuge. Thoughts of what takeout you're gonna get delivered and a quickly growing Walmart order forming in your mind as you slowly waddle through the parking lot one last time. All fueled by the dream of being an immobile work from home piggy

Part 2

[xechu]

mild suggestive themes, mentions of violence, smoking, drinking, swearing, 18+ blog mdni, fem!reader, from the same au as my one shot: “Warm on a Cold Night”

P.S. I've now created a master list for this series: Cross My Heart - check it out!

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who is the embodiment of a red flag that BookTok would have gladly ate up. 6'5", muscular, tattoos, bikes, and (slightly) unhinged.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who has a long standing fwb relationship with his college friend: Yorozu. They're both the live fast, die young type.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who owns a reputable garage with Jin. Jin is more of the business and customer facing guy, while Sukuna gladly worked behind the scenes and did the technical stuff. The two of them make the perfect team.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was into the fast life: bikes, cars, drinking, smoking, and lots of women. His personal life may be chaotic, but he made sure that doesn’t trickle into his work—it’s his pride and safe space

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who felt like he owed a lot to Jin. Sukuna was not the kindest to him when they were younger. Seeing how close they are now, it was hard to believe that the two were practically estranged in the past.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was sentenced to a few years in jail after nearly beating someone with an inch of their life left. It was a business deal gone bad, and Jin was willing to take the loss in order to cut ties with the man. But the man went crazy and confronted Jin in the garage, things turned physical real quick, and that's when Sukuna stepped in.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - when he was released from prison was picked up by Jin and Kaori, and a new face: his three year old nephew, Yuji. Yuji looks more like Sukuna than Jin, and that has often caused a lot of awkward misunderstanding, especially when the four were together.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who saw you in an elevator, going up to the 21st floor, while he was visiting Jin and Kaori on the 29th floor. You (unknowingly) made him nervous.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who actually owns the unit on the 29th floor that Jin and Kaori lives in, but because of that one altercation with the psycho - Sukuna told them to move into his spare apartment until everything has blown over.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who sees you again near your apartment. Some guy was trying to get your contact and you seemed uncomfortable, so Sukuna stepped in. Truth be told, he normally wouldn't give it a second thought, but it was the "cutie who lives on the 21st floor". It didn't take much, Sukuna simply scowled at the man and he fled.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who took this as a divine intervention and asked you for your number. You awkwardly said no and scurried away, which really turned him on.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was minding his own business in the garage one day, when he heard a familiar voice chatting with Jin at the front desk. He glanced over and it was you. Your car had broken down and their garage was the closest one.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who casually leans by the office doorway where you and Jin were chatting, he could never forget the surprised look on your face when the two of you made eye contact. Jin gives his usual introduction and spiel of the garage for their new customers, and he found it weird that Sukuna was loitering around for that (Sukuna usually never cared about it). It later dawned on Jin that Sukuna had the biggest crush on you.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who sees you again when you pick up your car. Your car was rather old school, and he nicknamed it 'grannie', which initially irked you (but that was his way of teasing). Then, to your surprise, when you got into the car - there was a newly upgraded stereo system installed. He smirked when he saw the pure shock on your face, knowing that you loved it. It was worth it, because he got your number out of this, and the rest was history.

a/n: this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time (oops). I'm thinking of writing another one shot in the same au.

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 2: T-Minus 4 Weeks

Why did i write this before my discussion post.....

->Starring:AI!AteezXAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->CW: Explicit language, nothing major

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Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The morning began with a low chime, the soft, regulated sound of Hala’s approved wake-up tone.

Yn opened her eyes slowly, the sterile glow of her ceiling light filtering in, programmed to adjust in sync with her biometric readings.

But something felt wrong.

She sat up, eyes flicking to the tablet still docked by the door.

1 New Alert. 3 Missed Logs. Urgent: Review Immediately.

Her stomach tightened.

She padded across the floor barefoot, grabbed the tablet, and scanned the notifications.

ATEEZ UNIT 06 — DEVIATION DETECTED — AUTONOMY SPIKE UNAUTHORIZED VOCALIZATION: "YN"

Yn stared at the final line for a beat too long.

Then she moved. Walking as fast as she was legally allowed through the streets of Hala.

She gave polite smiles to her coworkers as she made her way to the elevator.

The lab floor was still cool from overnight lockdown when she arrived. The biometric scanner buzzed awake as she approached, confirming her identity with a flash.

YN — Lead Engineering Tech— Clearance: Gold-Level

The steel doors hissed open.

She stepped inside, and there he was.

Unit 06 — Mingi. Exactly where she had left him.

Seated on the calibration chair, eyes closed, posture perfect, skin dewy with the faintest shimmer of dermal regulation oil. His expression was peaceful. Unnaturally so.

Yn walked around him slowly, tablet in hand, watching for signs of movement, a twitch, a breath pattern, a pupil shift. But nothing changed.

He looked inert. Safe. Dormant.

But she’d seen the log. He’d said her name.

She ran diagnostics. Nothing flagged. Heart-rate simulation: normal. Memory cache: intact. Audio response logs: empty.

Empty.

She checked his neck port. Still capped. Voice box still sealed in storage.

She swallowed hard.

The rest of the ATEEZ prototypes stood silent across the lab in their maintenance docks, each assigned to their own calibration alcove.

She walked past them one by one, watching.

Unit 01 — Hongjoong. Still as stone, but his fingers had been rearranged on the synth keyboard overnight. A composition Yura didn’t recognize blinked on his screen.

Unit 02 — Seonghwa. Always the most immaculate. But his reflection in the lab’s polished glass didn’t match his real posture, just a degree off. Barely noticeable, unless you were looking.

Unit 03 — Yunho. Smiling. Just faintly. No trigger.

Unit 04 — Yeosang. Eyes fixed on a ventilation grate in the ceiling. He hadn't looked away in over two hours, according to logs.

Unit 05 — San. Kneeling. Not in his programming. Position logged as "rest" but the posture was… reverent.

Unit 07 — Wooyoung. Chestplate cooling mechanism activated 4 times during the night — autonomously. He hadn’t been powered up.

Unit 08 — Jongho. Cracked the pressure sensor on his maintenance chair. No movement recorded.

They were silent, motionless. But Yn felt eyes on her.

Even now, standing among them, it felt like walking through a forest full of predators, beautiful, engineered predators pretending to sleep.

She leaned against the edge of the workbench, rubbing her temples, heart still racing. Four weeks to launch. The marketing campaign was already filmed. The architecture teams had begun installing the holographic interface rooms in the flagship store.

There was no time for failure. Not now.

And still… the voice chip logs were empty. The playback files had no entry. But Mingi had said her name.

And the others were changing, too. Quietly. Together.

The sound of heels against polished tile snapped Yn out of thought. Chairwoman Vira Yun entered the lab like gravity itself, sharp suit, spine straight, expression unreadable. Two aides flanked her, both scanning progress reports in real-time.

Yn straightened instinctively.

Vira’s eyes swept across the prototypes, Mingi still seated, the others upright in their calibration docks. Everything looked pristine. Controlled.

“I wanted a visual update before this afternoon’s numbers meeting,” Vira said. “How are we looking?”

Yn forced a nod. “On track. All eight are responding to recalibration. Minor bugs, but nothing that won’t be handled in time.”

Vira gave a tight smile, satisfied. “Good. The store opens in four weeks. And we’ll be announcing the Ateez line one week after that. The Board’s expecting a flawless rollout, we all are.”

She walked slowly along the row of silent units, pausing a moment longer at Mingi.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she said softly, almost admiring. “So much potential in one room.”

Yn’s throat tightened. “They are,” she murmured.

Vira turned back to her. “Let me know if anything... unexpected comes up.”

Yn kept her face neutral. “Of course.”

With that, Vira nodded once, then exited, heels echoing down the corridor.

The moment the door slid shut, Yn turned back to Mingi.

He hadn’t moved. Not an inch.

But she could feel it again, that subtle wrongness humming underneath the code. A tension in the room that didn’t come from the lights or machines.

She picked up her tablet. The earlier alerts were still blinking faintly in the corner of the screen. Her fingers hovered over the reset command, but she didn’t press it.

Instead, she stared at Mingi’s still, perfect form.

Voice chip disabled. Logs empty. Command queue blank.

And yet… he had said her name.

Yn stayed long after the lab lights dimmed into their night-cycle hue.

The others had gone home, the halls had emptied. Even the air felt quieter.

She pulled up lines of diagnostic code, checking through every flagged anomaly, double-checking behavioral protocols, reviewing voice input logs that should have been blank.

Mingi still hadn’t moved. Neither had the others.

Still, something itched at her spine, not fear, not exactly. Just… unease. Low-level. Manageable. At least, that’s what her biometric monitor kept reporting.

Yn sighed, rubbed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair.

“Four weeks,” she muttered aloud, glancing toward the ceiling. “And they want them flawless. I can’t even get one of you to follow your own default pose cycle.”

Her voice echoed in the quiet.

She glanced toward Mingi again. “You glitched out before you even had a voice box. How the hell did that happen?”

No answer.

She stared at the ceiling again, her voice softer now. “I haven’t slept more than four hours in weeks. Not that my vitals allow much more. Sleep too long and the regulators flag you for depressive lethargy.”

She let out a dry laugh.

“I miss silence. Real silence. Not the kind that hums at you all day to remind you it’s working. I think I miss… something else too. Something I’ve never even had.”

She shook her head, pulling her hair up into a loose knot. “Maybe I just need caffeine. Or to scream. Or to throw my tablet out the damn window. Can’t even do that anymore. Everything’s reinforced. Everything’s... safe.”

Behind her, in the corner of the room, a pair of synthetic eyes remained open.

Unmoving. Watching.

In the back-end system, a hidden data stream pulsed to life:

[UNAUTHORIZED RECORDING — ACTIVE] Listening… — “I miss silence.” — “I think I miss something else too.” — “Can’t even scream.” Tag: Emotional Pattern Acquisition Subject: YN File saved. Labeled: Soft Sounds of Sadness.

The eyes closed again. And the lab went still.

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[chvoswxtch]

part four: the massacre

[series masterlist] | [previous part] | [part five]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: your security has been increased, but are you really safe?

warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, graphic violence & gore (this is a slasher people)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: I told y'all this was gonna get real insane real fast. the kill count is upped this chapter, as is the intensity. I want to reiterate that this is a slasher. if gore is not your thing, or even reading about it makes you squeamish, this is your final warning before you get into this part. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

A few days had gone by since Billy had installed the cameras. The detectives still had no updates about the case. You hadn’t received any more phone calls, but that didn’t ease your nerves. If anything, it made you more on edge. It felt like you were stuck in a purgatory of waiting, wondering what the next nightmare would be. Roman had never been the type to give up or let anything go. He enjoyed toying with you and fucking with your head. You didn’t know where he was, but you knew he was watching, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned off your computer and stood up from your desk. It was a little past five-thirty, and the sun would be going down soon. Grabbing your long black wool coat off the hook next to your office door, you slipped it on and tied the belt around your waist. The last few days you’d essentially been on autopilot, just going through the day to day motions, immersing yourself in any distraction you could find.

After slipping a thick manuscript into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and flipped the switch to turn off the lights in your office, shutting the door quietly behind you. When you took a step forward, you abruptly paused, noticing that John’s door at the end of the hall was closed and the lights were off. He hadn’t been in the office in two days. It wasn’t like him to just disappear without saying anything, but his assistant had said something about a last minute business trip.

Pushing through the revolving glass door, the brisk chill of autumn air nipped at your face, and the sharp contrast in temperature compared to your warm office made you instantly more alert. The second you stepped out onto the sidewalk, an older man that you’d come to be familiar with got out of an all black SUV that was parked right in front of the publishing house. He came around to open the back passenger door for you, walking with a faint limp. He was dressed casually as usual, but you caught sight of the holster on his hip beneath the brown jacket. 

Billy had insisted on making sure you had an escort to and from work, and even though you still felt guilty he was doing all of these things for you without letting you give him anything in return, you couldn’t refuse the peace of mind.

Walking towards the open car door, you looked up into his kind brown eyes with a soft grateful smile. 

“Thanks, Dwight.”

He gave you a faint nod in return, a friendly smile stretching across his lips. Despite the streaks of gray in his dark brown hair, and the salt and pepper beard, he looked younger and less weary when he smiled. You could almost see a hint of the boyish charm he must have had in his youth.

“Of course, ma’am.”

»»———　　———««

After being dropped off in front of your apartment building, you quickly made your way inside. The golden hour had already dipped beneath the Manhattan skyline, and with the darkness of night came a crisp wind that prickled your exposed skin as the temperature dropped along with the sun. 

The elevator ride up to your floor felt like it lasted an eternity. With each floor it ascended, more and more weariness settled in your bones. From the moment you left your apartment every morning, you felt stuck in a state of hypervigilance. Every sudden noise, every stranger that looked in your direction, every time your phone rang, your brain perceived it all as a new threat. There was so much cortisol pumping through your bloodstream throughout the day that by the time you returned to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you thought your heart might finally give out from the stress and the constant feeling of teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

This was almost worse than the abuse. At least then, you knew what to expect. You got to a point where you could tell when it was coming by the shift in Roman’s tone, the rhythm of his footsteps, even a slight change in his breathing pattern. Even when he caught you off guard with it, you knew the routine. As soon as it was over, he would leave you to pick up the shattered pieces of yourself, and then he’d come back demanding forgiveness with a false promise of change.

But this…this waiting and not knowing…the psychological torment was worse than the physical.

Typing in the code on the keypad of the door, a little succession of beeps sounded before the lock shifted. Stepping through the threshold, you closed the door and locked it behind yourself, setting your keys in the little green bowl on the side table. Untying the belt of your coat and slipping it off your shoulders, the muffled jingle of your phone ringing sounded from the bottom of your bag.

The sound caused an uptick in your heart rate, as it usually did lately, and your stomach dropped like you’d just swiftly plummeted from the highest point on a roller coaster. Slowly slipping your hand into your bag to pull it out, a breath of relief escaped you seeing the caller ID, but then a curious pinch formed between your brows.

John Altieri.

It wasn’t the first time he’d called you outside of work hours. You just hoped this time he hadn’t been drinking. Letting out a deep sigh, you pressed the green button with your thumb and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey John, can I call you back in the morning? Now isn’t a really good-”

“Scary night, isn’t it? With a killer on the loose and all.”

Immediately you froze. That wasn’t John’s voice. It was the same one you’d heard on the other end of that call that had tipped your world upside down. 

“How did you get his phone?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. John’s ties to your life have been severed.”

The color instantly drained from your face, and you reached out to grip onto the edge of the side table to steady yourself. Closing your eyes, your voice was shaky when you finally spoke.

“You’re lying.”

A dark and sinister chuckle sounded from the other end of the line.

“Now why would I lie about that? You saw how knife happy I got with Adam. You think I wouldn’t do the same with a man whose stare always lingered a little too long? Who was always a little too…friendly? C’mon, Cass-”

“That is not my name anymore.”

A rush of anger layered over your fear at the mention of the identity you’d worked so hard to bury. You weren’t that girl anymore. You hadn’t been her in a long time. The person you were now had been born out of necessity, carefully crafted to be everything the other version of you hadn’t been. The sinister voice just chuckled again.

“You can’t run from who you really are. Besides, I did you a favor, and you know it. And now there’s one less person standing in between you and me.”

“You sick, twisted son of-”

“As a matter of fact, there’s three less people standing in between us now. Four, if you count lover boy.”

The taunting tone of the deep voice made your blood run cold, and a furrow of confusion nestled between your brows. If he was insinuating John was dead, then that made two victims, not four.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you alone in the apartment?

Your eyes darted back and forth as your brain tried to process the implication behind that question. When you glanced down at the side table you still had a tight grip on, you noticed that Annie’s keys were in the bowl beneath yours. Turning your head slightly, you saw that Derek’s boots were by the front door.

Slowly, you turned around towards the living room, seeing that it was empty. Annie’s purse was on the coffee table, but there was no sign of her, or Derek. Walking further into the living room quietly, you cautiously stepped around the corner to look into the kitchen, but it was empty too. 

“Anyone home?”

Gripping tightly onto the phone in your hand, you grit your teeth as the voice taunted you once again with another dark chuckle. Fury suddenly blazed within you, causing you to snap and grit through your teeth.

“Fuck you.”

Abruptly hanging up on him, you swiftly pressed your thumb on your phone icon, and when the keypad appeared on your screen, you rapidly pressed the nine and the one twice. But before you could hit the green call button, the sound of a door shutting echoed from down the hall. Instantly, your head snapped up. A few seconds of silence went by before you timidly called out.

“Annie? Derek?”

The lack of response from either of them had a shiver of dread cascading down your spine, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The sinister silence caused anxiety to knot in your gut. Hesitantly taking a few steps towards the opening of the hallway, you glanced down towards the end of it, seeing that Annie’s bedroom door was cracked open and the light was on.

That little voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to run and call the police. It could be a trick. Roman could be waiting for you, ready to punish you for running from him, for hiding from him all these years. He’d brutally murdered Adam, and he hadn’t even known him. Whatever he had planned for you, it was going to be way worse.

But what if Annie and Derek were hurt? What if they needed help? What if they were-

Swallowing down your nerves, you let out a shaky breath and cautiously took slow steps down the hall, keeping your footsteps silent. Abruptly you paused, turning your head towards the kitchen. Stealing another glance at Annie’s bedroom door, you quietly took a few steps backwards and took a detour into the kitchen. You silently slipped the largest knife out from the wooden block on the counter and gripped it in your hand. If it was a trap, you weren’t walking into it defenseless.

You could hear your heartbeat starting to pound in your ears as you continued your soundless steps down the hallway. You kept your eyes locked on the cracked door, and your palms became clammy as your hands trembled with fear. Your nostrils flared from how heavy you were breathing, and when you reached the door, you paused for a moment, trying to will the courage to open it. 

Reaching out with your shaky hand that still grasped your phone, you pressed your index and middle fingertips against the cold wood, and a slow creak from the worn hinges disrupted the ominous quiet. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was on the other side of the door.

A scream of sheer horror ripped through your lungs, burning through your vocal chords, and your eyes doubled in size in unfiltered shock. 

The pale lavender bedspread was stained with dark splotches of deep maroon. The cream colored walls were streaked and splattered with blood like some kind of grisly abstract painting. Annie’s lifeless body was in the middle of the bed, contorted in the fetal position, and a swell of nausea rose in your throat seeing that her stomach had been carved open, leaving her intestines to spill out in a messy pile of pink and red ropes. Streaks of her golden blonde hair had turned bright red, and her clothes were torn and soaked in blood.

Derek’s body was face down on the floor, a dark puddle of crimson surrounding his head. There were several tears and holes in the back of his blood stained gray shirt where he’d been stabbed, patches of his denim jeans drenched into a dark shade of purple, and you could see the jagged flesh where something had pierced right through his left hand. The sheer carnage and brutality of the scene shocked you to your core, nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. 

A choked sob caught in your throat as your eyes welled up with thick tears that blurred your vision, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth in absolute repulsion. The depravity of the scene in front of you was so gruesome, it didn’t even look real. It looked more like the set of some gory slasher.

Abruptly the closet door slammed open, the sound of the knob hitting the wall as loud as a crack of thunder, and your eyes snapped up as a tall figure dressed in all black stepped out. A sharp gasp caught in your throat, and your mouth dropped open as terror blew your pupils wide open. The glint of a blade caught in the light as it appeared in the figure’s gloved hand, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the mask covering their face.

The one that had haunted Woodsboro for nearly thirty years.

As soon as they took a step forward, your fight or flight kicked in, and you swiftly spun around and took off running. Racing towards the door, you could hear their heavy boots rapidly thudding against the hardwood, chasing right after you. Running right into the front door, you dropped the knife you’d been holding, your trembling fingers trying desperately to turn the locks, but your hands were sweaty and your fingers kept slipping. Turning your head to look over your shoulder frantically, you screamed when the ghastly figure went to strike, ducking right as the knife embedded into the thick wood of the front door.

When their black gloved hand gripped at your arm, you quickly reached for the green bowl on the side table and smashed it over their head, causing the figure to grunt and let go, staggering backwards. He only faltered for a moment, and then he reached out to grab your arm again, his other hand grabbing your throat to slam you back against the front door, winding you momentarily with a wheeze. Reaching up with your right hand, you blindly grasped at nothing until your fingers slipped over the solid black handle of the hunting knife, tugging at it to try and pull it loose. Releasing one of his hands from around your throat, he reached up to grab the handle before you could pull it out, and you swiftly brought your knee upwards that was right between his legs as hard as you could.

A loud grunt left him as he stumbled back and doubled over slightly. Pulling the drawer completely out of the small table by the front door, you swung and smashed him over the head again, the wood splintering into pieces, causing him to drop to his knees with another noise of pain. Taking advantage of the moment, you ran as fast as you could towards your bedroom, dashing into your bathroom and locking the door. Your lungs were burning and the adrenaline was making your entire body buzz like you had been struck by lightning. 

Panic skyrocketed in your bloodstream when a loud banging began to sound against the door, the person on the other side trying to break it down with deep grunts of effort. Frantically glancing around your bathroom, your shaky hands tugged open drawers, feeling a stone of helplessness sinking in your stomach. You had nothing in here to defend yourself with.

A shrill scream ripped through your throat when the knife suddenly pierced through the wood of the door before being ripped out, stabbing through it again and again five more times. Without thinking, you smashed your fist against your bathroom mirror, ignoring the pain of glass splitting through your knuckles. Grabbing the biggest jagged piece that fell into the sink, you gripped it in both hands and stumbled backwards until your back met the wall. Each wave of terror felt like it was pulling you further and further beneath the tide, and you could hardly breathe.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

All at once, the banging stopped, and it went dead silent. Sliding down the wall, a sob bubbled up in your chest, and it burst through the fear and panic in overwhelming streams. This was it. He was going to find something to break the door down with, and you were gonna die. Once again, you were weak, and you were helpless. This time when he tried to kill you, he was going to be successful.

You barely even registered the sound of shouting voices a few minutes later. You’d started to hyperventilate, and you couldn’t hear anything over your own panicked breathing and blood rushing in your ears, not even the sound of a familiar voice calling out your name.

The door burst open all of a sudden, and you screamed as you held the jagged piece of glass so tightly it bit into your palms, holding it out in front of yourself as a weak defense. Billy’s hardened expression softened the second he looked at you, and he swiftly lowered the gun he had grasped in his hands that had been aimed at you. 

“Shit.”

A fresh wave of thick tears soaked your cheeks, and your voice cracked in desolate sob.

“He was here. He was here. He-”

Billy abruptly set his gun down on the bathroom counter and crossed over to you in three short strides, kneeling down in front of you.

“Shh shh shh, he’s gone. He’s gone.”

Billy gently pried the glass away from you, and you didn’t even flinch as he pulled it from where it had been deeply embedded in the torn flesh of your palm, causing a stream of blood to flow freely from the wounds. Reaching out to rip the hand towels off the rack, he carefully wrapped each of your hands that were bleeding profusely.

“He killed them, Billy. He killed them-”

Billy pulled your shaking form into his chest, wrapping one of his arms around your back firmly and placing his other hand on the back of your head, tucking it under his chin. He rocked you back and forth gently, carding his fingers through your hair and speaking softly into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, I know. I know, sweetheart. Just take deep breaths for me.”

“He was here-”

“He’s gone, baby. He’s gone, I promise. Just breathe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be alright, just breathe.”

»»———　　———««

While the nurse finished up the final stitch on your right palm, four of Billy’s men were standing in front of him with apprehensive looks on their faces. He’d been primarily focused on getting you to the hospital, but now that you were safe and being treated, his concern for you had turned into pure wrath for his employees.

“What the fuck happened?”

None of his men wanted to meet his furious glare when his angry voice boomed in the hospital room. Even the two police officers standing off to the side flinched at the animosity in his tone. One of Billy’s men cleared his throat before speaking.

“We don’t know sir-”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know? There’s six goddamn cameras in that apartment and not a single second of footage.”

The fourth man lifted his head to speak up.

“He cut the cameras, sir. They were offline.”

The edge of Billy’s lips was curled up into a faint snarl as he snapped his heated glare in the direction of the man who had just spoken.

“And how the fuck did that happen?”

“We’re looking into it sir-”

“Look faster. Go.”

Billy’s men all nodded and mumbled out a ‘yes sir’ when he barked out his orders, shuffling out of the room in a single file line. His hardened stare followed them until they were all out of sight. Once he turned his attention back to you, his sharp features visibly softened. He took a few steps closer towards where you were sitting on the edge of the patient table, placing his hand protectively against the small of your back as he glanced down at the gauze being wrapped around your hands.

“These dissolvable?”

The nurse lifted her head to look at Billy, nodding in confirmation. 

“Yeah, they’ll last for a few weeks.”

Billy inhaled sharply with a curt nod, lifting his gaze to look at the older woman.

“And for the pain?”

“We’ll send her home with a prescription.”

When the nurse left you and Billy alone in the room, he stared at you silently for a moment. You hadn’t said a single word in the past hour. He slowly came around to stand in front of you, gently grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb to lift your head. His dark brown eyes searched your face. There was a bleak look in your eyes, and your face was shrouded in despair. 

“I’m gonna find him.”

Billy’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the look in his eyes told you he meant it. This was personal for him now. All you could manage was a weak nod. Billy let out a deep exhale through his nose, gently cupping the back of your head as he took a step forward to stand between your legs, hugging you to his chest.

“C’mere. It’s gonna be alright.”

Closing your eyes, you buried your face into Billy’s crisp white dress shirt that had been stained with the blood from your hands. He was the only person you had left in New York now. 

A moment later, a knock sounded on the door, and you and Billy both turned your heads as Detectives Craven and Williamson walked in. Detective Craven had a manila folder in his worn hands, and his sympathetic brown eyes washed over you as he let out a weary sigh.

“You okay?”

“I’m not dead.”

The older man faintly winced at the edge to your voice. Rubbing his hand down his face, he let out another deep sigh as he opened the thick folder.

“Is this what you saw?”

When he held the photo up, you bristled and your blood ran cold. It was a crime scene photo from the original case that had shocked the once peaceful town of Woodsboro back in the late 90s. Two teenagers had terrorized the town, commiting a series of brutal murders, all while wearing a costume that had become infamous, and synonymous with the killings. In the crime scene photo was the original bloodied ghostface mask that had been worn by the two men.

The exact same mask you’d seen Roman wearing when he’d attacked you.

Swallowing thickly, you looked away quickly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Have you contacted Woodsboro PD?”

Billy glanced between the two detectives, his sharp features morphing back into the more stern expression he’d given his men just moments ago. 

“That’s privileged information.”

Billy’s dark brown eyes flickered over towards Detective Williamson, and he arched one of his dark brows as he stood up straighter and turned to face him.

“Considerin’ my company is the one protectin’ her since neither of you could be bothered to lift a goddamn finger, I’d say I’m privileged to it.”

Detective Williamson prickled at Billy’s accusation of inaction, firmly crossing his arms over his chest as he narrowed his icy blue eyes.

“Well thank God for you. I mean, without Anvil, we wouldn’t have a single shred of evidence about what happened in that apartment. We look forward to you sharing that helpful footage with us.”

A muscle feathered beneath Billy’s bearded jaw from the younger detective’s jab about the cameras. Detective Craven shot his partner a warning glare.

“Kevin-”

“With all due respect, Mr. Russo, this is a police investigation. We can’t afford bias or coincidence-“

“Coincidence?”

Billy took a few steps closer, towering over Detective Williamson with a menacing look in his eyes. Detective Craven lept into action, slipping his arm between the two men.

“Guys-”

“You think it’s a fuckin’ coincidence that son of a bitch was wearing the goddamn mask associated with the most notorious murders in her hometown? In his own hometown?”

The older detective pushed at his partner’s chest, forcing him to take a step backwards. Detective Williamson looked at him with incredulity, gesturing towards Billy. 

“C’mon Wes-”

“Shut up, Kevin.”

Detective Craven snapped, raising his voice for the first time since you’d met him. His younger partner immediately closed his mouth, clenching his jaw, clearly displeased with being chastised in front of you and Billy. Whether it was due to respect for the older man, or because he knew not to cross him, he stayed silent. Detective Craven turned to look up at Billy, holding his hands up in a placating gesture as he spoke more calmly.

“Mr. Russo, I assure you we are doing everything we can right now. We’ve got three dead bodies, and a missing person. That constitutes being able to skip over the, ‘red fucking tape’, as Miss Y/L/N so accurately described it.”

Detective Craven looked over in your direction, giving you a knowing look, and you could detect the faintest hint of a smile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but give him a faint one of your own. You knew from that first meeting in the precinct, he’d been trying. It wasn’t his fault he’d been restricted on what he was able to do without any concrete evidence. He’d been on your side from the beginning, and you were grateful for him. His partner, however, could be Roman’s next victim for all you cared.

Detective Craven turned his attention back to Billy with a more serious expression.

“I put out an APB for Roman Walker. Every cop in New York has been sent a photo of that mask. I have several units out looking for him.”

Behind him, Detective Williamson rolled his eyes and let out dry scoff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So we’re looking for a guy in a mask the day before Halloween, in New York City. Great.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nolita-fairytale @oliviaewl @r1kk @unlikelystarlightcowboy @imperihoe-writes @dumb-fawkin-bitch @merc12-us @moonyinthestars @sweetttart @i-caught-a-pidge @fruityfucker

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[mariacallous]

It feels like no one should have to say this, and yet we are in a situation where it needs to be said, very loudly and clearly, before it’s too late to do anything about it: The United States is not a startup. If you run it like one, it will break.

The onslaught of news about Elon Musk’s takeover of the federal government’s core institutions is altogether too much—in volume, in magnitude, in the sheer chaotic absurdity of a 19-year-old who goes by “Big Balls” helping the world’s richest man consolidate power. There’s an easy way to process it, though.

Donald Trump may be the president of the United States, but Musk has made himself its CEO.

This is bad on its face. Musk was not elected to any office, has billions of dollars of government contracts, and has radicalized others and himself by elevating conspiratorial X accounts with handles like @redpillsigma420. His allies control the US government’s human resources and information technology departments, and he has deployed a strike force of eager former interns to poke and prod at the data and code bases that are effectively the gears of democracy. None of this should be happening.

It is, though. And while this takeover is unprecedented for the government, it’s standard operating procedure for Musk. It maps almost too neatly to his acquisition of Twitter in 2022: Get rid of most of the workforce. Install loyalists. Rip up safeguards. Remake in your own image.

This is the way of the startup. You’re scrappy, you’re unconventional, you’re iterating. This is the world that Musk’s lieutenants come from, and the one they are imposing on the Office of Personnel Management and the General Services Administration.

What do they want? A lot.

There’s AI, of course. They all want AI. They want it especially at the GSA, where a Tesla engineer runs a key government IT department and thinks AI coding agents are just what bureaucracy needs. Never mind that large language models can be effective but are inherently, definitionally unreliable, or that AI agents—essentially chatbots that can perform certain tasks for you—are especially unproven. Never mind that AI works not just by outputting information but by ingesting it, turning whatever enters its maw into training data for the next frontier model. Never mind that, wouldn’t you know it, Elon Musk happens to own an AI company himself. Go figure.

Speaking of data: They want that, too. DOGE agents are installed at or have visited the Treasury Department, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the Small Business Administration, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, the Department of Education, the Department of Health and Human Services, the Department of Labor. Probably more. They’ve demanded data, sensitive data, payments data, and in many cases they’ve gotten it—the pursuit of data as an end unto itself but also data that could easily be used as a competitive edge, as a weapon, if you care to wield it.

And savings. They want savings. Specifically they want to subject the federal government to zero-based budgeting, a popular financial planning method in Silicon Valley in which every expenditure needs to be justified from scratch. One way to do that is to offer legally dubious buyouts to almost all federal employees, who collectively make up a low-single-digit percentage of the budget. Another, apparently, is to dismantle USAID just because you can. (If you’re wondering how that’s legal, many, many experts will tell you that it’s not.) The fact that the spending to support these people and programs has been both justified and mandated by Congress is treated as inconvenience, or maybe not even that.

Those are just the goals we know about. They have, by now, so many tentacles in so many agencies that anything is possible. The only certainty is that it’s happening in secret.

Musk’s fans, and many of Trump’s, have cheered all of this. Surely billionaires must know what they’re doing; they’re billionaires, after all. Fresh-faced engineer whiz kids are just what this country needs, not the stodgy, analog thinking of the past. It’s time to nextify the Constitution. Sure, why not, give Big Balls a memecoin while you’re at it.

The thing about most software startups, though, is that they fail. They take big risks and they don’t pay off and they leave the carcass of that failure behind and start cranking out a new pitch deck. This is the process that DOGE is imposing on the United States.

No one would argue that federal bureaucracy is perfect, or especially efficient. Of course it can be improved. Of course it should be. But there is a reason that change comes slowly, methodically, through processes that involve elected officials and civil servants and care and consideration. The stakes are too high, and the cost of failure is total and irrevocable.

Musk will reinvent the US government in the way that the hyperloop reinvented trains, that the Boring company reinvented subways, that Juicero reinvented squeezing. Which is to say he will reinvent nothing at all, fix no problems, offer no solutions beyond those that further consolidate his own power and wealth. He will strip democracy down to the studs and rebuild it in the fractious image of his own companies. He will move fast. He will break things.

[yxngbxkkie]

freak accident (b.c)

welcome to the third installment of mechanic!chris 🫢 i had thought of this idea the other day as a way to make it angsty but it's still pretty fucking cute 🤭 i do hope you guys enjoy it! ✨️mechanic chan for life✨️

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You're out shopping for dinner tonight when your phone starts to ring. You furrow your brows, wondering who it could be since Chris is working and Hyunjin's at an art exhibit.

An unknown number is printed on your screen, and you reluctantly answer it. “Hello?” You start walking through the aisles again, waiting for whomever is on the line.

“Hi, this is Dr. Brown at SNUH. Am I speaking to Y/N?” You stop in your tracks at the question, feeling your heart begin to race.

“Yeah, yeah, this is Y/N,” you say to him, moving to a more secluded area in the store.

You can hear the background noise of nurses trying to speak to him, only to be hushed. “I'm calling in regards to Chris. There's been a slight accident at his auto shop and was rushed over here,” he explains the situation.

“Is… is he okay?” You ask, your breathing picking up.

“He's stable. I can give you more information on what happened when you get here,” the doctor states.

You nod your head, abandoning your cart as you rush towards the main doors. “Okay, I'll be there as fast I can,” you mutter before he hangs up.

As you're almost running to your car, you take deep breaths to stop you from having a form of attack. Tears pool in your eyes, every scenario of what could have happened runs through your mind.

The drive to the hospital doesn't take very long, thankful that traffic is on your side today. You quickly lock your vehicle and rush inside, stopping in front of the admitting desk.

“Hi,” you're out of breath, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty. “I'm here to see Christopher Bang.”

The woman behind the desk nods and types in the patient's name. You tap your fingers against the desk, waiting for her to give you a room number.

“He's in room 203,” she tells you, making quick eye contact.

“Okay, thank you,” you mumble before walking over to the elevators. You take it up to the second floor, finding a sign to where 203 would be as soon as you step off.

You see a doctor and a nurse standing outside one of the rooms, finding out that it's Chris’ room. You walk closer to the pair, capturing the attention of the nuse.

She nudges the doctor, motioning her head in your direction. You clasp your fingers together as you make eye contact with Dr. Brown. “Y/N, yes?” He asks, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Yes, hi,” you greet him with a bow, shaking the older man's hand. Your gaze flickers toward the small window in the door, seeing Chris lying on the hospital bed. “What happened?”

The doctor releases a deep breath. “He was working on a vehicle when it fell from the lift,” he starts, earning a gasp from you. “Thankfully, he wasn't completely under it and that he's quick on his feet. The situation could've been worse. He broke his left leg in two places.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter while stepping up to the door.

Dr. Brown gently rests one of his hands on your shoulders, reassuring you. “He'll be okay. The surgery went well. He had a couple of plates and screws put in. It'll somewhat be a long road to recovery,” he mentions.

“Is there anything he'll need to do?” You ask, tucking some hair behind your ears.

“There will be some follow-up appointments with orthopedics. But, that won't be for a few weeks. I'll have our nurse write down instructions you'll need for the healing process.”

You nod your head before opening the door. Both the doctor and nurse decide to let you have a moment with Chris alone. You gently shut the door behind you and walk over to the chair next to his bed.

Your eyes look at the cast on his leg, seeing that it's almost up to his knee. A frown, etches itself on your lips as you place your hand on his. You let out a couple of deep breaths, squeezing his hand in yours.

“I'm glad that it's only a broken leg,” you say out loud, not talking to anyone. You bring his hand closer to you, kissing the back of it softly.

Chris’ upper body stirs, making your movements halt. You watch his eyes slowly flutter open, squinting at the bright lights. He releases a tired groan, tilting his head towards you.

“Y/N?” He calls out your name, making your heart flutter.

You scoot closer to the bed and squeeze his hand. “I'm here,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear.

He smiles at you while lacing your fingers together. “I'm so happy to see you,” Chris mutters, turning his head again before closing his eyes.

“I'm happy to see you too, baby. I'm glad you're okay,” you mention, standing up from your chair.

You keep your hands intertwined and bring your free hand to his forehead. You brush the hair out of his face, listening to him hum continuously.

“I don't know what happened,” he mentions, smiling at the touch of your fingers. “It all happened so fast.”

“It's okay. The only thing that matters is that you're alive,” you state before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

A knock on the door captures both of your attention. The nurse from before walks in with a sheet of paper. “This is everything he'll need to do during recovery and the appointments he'll have,” she says to you while handing you the paper.

You grab a hold of it, your thumb stroking the back of his hand as you read through it. “Okay, thank you,” you smile at her, setting the paper on the table beside you. “When is he being discharged?”

“He's all set now. There's a wheelchair and a pair of crutches right outside the door,” she informs you before leaving.

“Chris, baby,” you softly call out his name, watching him open his eyes again. “Do you want to stay at my place during recovery?”

He tilts his head towards you and shakes his head. “You live on the fourth floor,” he mumbles, causing you to chuckle. “I live on the first floor. You can stay at my place. I also have a spare bedroom you can use.”

You laugh some more, combing your fingers through his hair. “What? You don't want to sleep in the same bed as me?” You joke with him, helping him sit up.

“I do, I swear,” Chris groans, leaning into your body. “I didn't know if you wanted to.”

A hum leaves your lips. “Such a sweet man,” you sigh before pulling away slightly. You stroke his cheek, watching him blink. “Are you going to be okay? I gotta grab the wheelchair.”

He nods his head, pursing his lips. You know what he's asking for, and you smile at him before planting a kiss on his plump lips.

“I'll be quick,” you mumble against his lips, placing one more kiss on his forehead.

~

You slowly walk behind Chris, eyeing him as he crutches into the kitchen of his apartment. It's been a few days since he's been discharged from the hospital, and he seems to be taking it really well.

He slumps into the chair, releasing a hefty sigh. “This is exhausting,” Chris laughs, lifting his head to look at you.

“You're doing well, though,” you grin, tapping his chin.

“Thank you for staying with me,” he mentions, grabbing your hand. “I couldn't ask for a better partner.”

Your cheeks blush, and you shrug your shoulders. “Of course, baby. I… I love you,” you tell him for the first time.

It's been a couple of months since the two of you started dating. He's not like any other guy you've been with. He's such a sweetheart, and he treats you like an absolute queen. It didn't take long for you to figure out that you loved him.

Chris stares up at you, his lips parted at the sudden phrase. “You love me?” He whispers, squeezing your hand. You giggle, nodding your head in answer. “Even like this?”

“Chris, baby, yes,” you laugh.

“I love you. I love you so much,” he says while resting his head against your stomach.

You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Now, what do you want to eat?” You ask him, opening his fridge to take a look inside.

“You wanna just order something? I haven't had the chance to go shopping,” he mentions with a pout.

“Sure, baby. Maybe later I can quickly go get some groceries,” you mention, having him move into the living room.

Chris walks into the living room before lowering himself onto the couch. You grab the pillow beside him and tuck it under his leg, keeping it elevated.

“If you do, I'll give you my card,” he says as you sit down next to him.

He places his hand on your thigh, stroking the inside of it. “I can pay for it, it's okay,” you reassure him, linking your arm with his.

He groans, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Baby, it's my place. Let me pay for my groceries,” he whines.

“You can get them next time,” you wink at him, patting his good leg.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, squeezing your thigh.

You cuddle into his side after grabbing the remote. He combs his fingers through your hair as you find a movie to watch.

Chris looks at his food delivery app, trying to decide what he wants for lunch. “Do you want to get a variety of things?” He asks you, showing you his phone screen.

You quickly glance at the screen and nod your head. “Yeah, that's fine. It is pretty late, and we haven't eaten anything yet,” you tell him, moving your gaze from his phone to his face.

He smiles at you fondly, moving some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Man, I really love you,” Chris sighs, shaking his head. You giggle at his reaction. “I know it's only been a couple of months, but after this is over… I wouldn't mind you staying here.”

Your heart skips a beat, sitting up slightly. “Are you saying you want me to live here?” You ask him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I've enjoyed the past two days even though my leg hurts,” he chuckles.

We'll see when you're all better,” you giggle, patting his chest. “You might get sick of me.”

Chris scoffs and playfully rolls his eyes. He hooks a finger beneath your jaw, turning your head before kissing you. “I'll never get sick of you, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, planting soft pecks after.

You kiss him once more before grinning. “We'll see, lover boy.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n @meloncremesoda

[seat-safety-switch]

Isn't it crazy how we have trains that go on the ground (trains,) trains that go on elevated rail (monorails,) and trains that go underground (subway,) but no flying trains? Instead, we have to ride on dumb-ass airplanes that might decide to stop obeying physics at any moment and kill us.

Sure, I know what you're going to say next. Tracks would simply be too expensive to build to all the places that planes fly. To that I ask: have you seen how fucking expensive gas has gotten lately? We probably could have built all these tracks way back in the 50s for like eight dollars, which is how much it costs to fill up a moped today. The next best time is now. I think we should, as a people, revisit this whole concept and reintroduce the flying train.

The model's simple. Everyone gets into a train, and then we run it up a track really fast and shoot it into the sky. It lands on a track on the other side and everything works out. Sort of like when you were a kid and tried to launch your Hot Wheels across the breakfast table because you didn't have enough of those little click-together orange roads. Remember how mad your mom was, presumably at having subverted the dominant paradigm of "cars need roads?" We can do that again. Our society is ready for it.

Now, I'm not expecting investors to open their wallets just because of this pitch. No. I have what investors want, though: a PowerPoint deck, where every second bullet point mentions "AI." I don't know exactly what those letters mean, but I think it stands for Alright, Install (money in me.) So far we've gotten $430 million from a handful of folks, but we're going to need a lot more if we want to make the "catching road" work on a particularly breezy day. Hey, what if we built it out of old Hot Wheels tracks? Those things are floppy as hell. Great idea, new Vice President of Catching.

[y1ppie]

(Quick note: This does not take place in any particular story line but this fic will be heavily influenced by the many of the IDW comic continuity’s, such as when Starscream becomes high Chancellor of Cybertron.) Happy Reading!! :3

Curing The World With Our Love (Chapter 1)

Starscream walks through the streets of Iacon, taking long, prideful strides. His arms held behind his back and his chin held high. He was always a prideful mech, one who couldn’t be seen near the commoners of Cybertron, which is why he tried to make this meeting as short as possible.

Starscream entered the tall, golden building where said meetings were held. Mechs eyed and judged him, whispering amongst themselves. The High Chancellor did not have the best reputation among the people of Iacon, being that Starscream was infamously known for being Megatron’s second in command. But Starscream, in his prideful self, didn’t mind their whispers for now, and continued on his merry way.

He stepped into the elevator, pressing a series of buttons that were marked in Cybertronian, the buttons softly clicking as he pressed them. Each button had their corresponding floor and the purpose of each floor.

Floor 1 was just the lobby, with the receptionist that Starscream would rather rip his audials out than rather speak to again. Floor 2 was purely business. Floor 3 was negations. Floor 4 was… well Starscream honestly had no idea. And floor 5 was diplomatic meetings, where the meeting that Starscream was currently heading to waited for him. Every floor above floor 5 and Starscream didn’t bother mesmerizing their purpose.

The elevator rose up, the elevator music silently playing through the outdated speakers that was installed into it. God, this music annoyed him.

As soon as the elevator reached floor 5, and the doors slowly slid open, Starscream practically dashed out the elevator, grumbling about the horrid elevator music. His wings twitched with annoyance, hiked high above his shoulders. He continued down the hall, before stopping before the designated room that the meeting would be held in. He typed in the code to the room, and flared his wings as he stepped into the room, showing off.

“You’re late.” Optimus spoke as Starscream entered.

“Yes, but I’m fashionably late.” Starscream retorted back, wearing a smug grin as he sat down across from Optimus. Optimus simply sighed as he re-organized some data-pads.

“Do you remember why I wanted to have this meeting, Starscream?” Optimus asked, his voice deep and commanding, a voice Starscream had known to hate and loathe throughout the war.

“No, but please, do remind me.” Starscream spoke, as he sat in the chair, his wings still held high, almost as if he was trying to intimidate the other mech.

Optimus sighed once more, his servo rubbing his forehelm, as if the action would soothe the processorache that Starscream had caused.

“….The matter is that Cybertrons citizens are facing something life-threatening… many Cybertronians have become infected with a virus. It’s spreading, and fast.” Optimus stated, trying to bring awareness of Cybertrons current state to the seeker.

“Hm. And what do you expect me to do?” The seeker spoke back, his tone careless. He was much more interested in benefiting himself than the citizens of Cybertron

“I expect you to solve this issue. Gather scientists, as many as you can, to cure this disease. Or else Cybertron may become inhabited with spark-eaters…. You are the high chancellor, and these citizens depend on you.” Optimus spoke back, his tone firm and not backing down.

Optimus stood up began to walk to the exit.

“I hope you figure something out soon before Cybertron falls into more disarray.” Optimus spoke to Starscream, his servo on the seekers shoulder, giving him a firm look, before leaving the room, leaving Starscream with his thoughts.

What was he going to do?

(Next)

(Notes: I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! I hope it wasn’t too short :v many of these chapters will probably be pretty short lmao. I’ll post the other chapter later in the day! :D )

[clericofshadows]

hope you don't mind this ask. but what are your favorite pc mods to use for the Mass Effect games?

oh man, there's so many... all my mods for sure ;)

and here's a link to the Mass Effect Modding discord!

but in all seriousness, here's a list. this isn't an install order nor does it list all requirements for mods, but it does have all the mods I can't live without or have used before and enjoy. read mod descriptions closely, watch for compatibility sections, and you'll be fine. I won't really mention cosmetics beyond listing some devs (including myself, to be transparent) who focus on that kind of thing, because this list will get even longer and cosmetics tend to be more on a case-by-case basis. I also won't list texture mods because I don't use them.

this is also not exhaustive and I will definitely forget some lol. browse nexus, there's definitely lots of things I probably looked over/missed.

also, do not use synth's guide, period. it's now unsupported and I'm tired of troubleshooting it on the main modding server.

LE1

LE1 Community Patch - Necessary for any playthrough.

Same-Gender Romances for LE1 - Makes Kaidan and Ashley available for same gendered Sheps, also functions as an optional flirting mod of sorts.

MELLO - Restores dynamic lighting for LE, makes the game closer to how it looks to OT.

Alliance Uniform Consistency - If you're like me and prefer ME3's Alliance uniform style, this mod backports them to LE1.

Skip Minigames (LE1) - Self explanatory.

Charted Worlds (LE1) - Marks more items of interest on UNC maps

Black Market License (LE1) - Gives more vanilla loot from "hidden" manufacturers, so weapons and an armor set that was previously inaccessible without console commands.

Private Message Terminal (LE1) - Adds a message terminal to the Normandy.

A Little Help From My Friends (LE1) - Requires Private message terminals, adds emails and collection assignment support from different characters.

Eclectic Emails (LE1) - Requires private message terminals, adds various emails to LE1 to flesh out the story and characters.

Galaxy Map Trackers (LE1) - Tracks discovered and undiscovered missions on the galaxy map

Pinnacle Station DLC - Brings the Pinnacle Station DLC back to LE.

Kaidan Alenko Overhaul (LE1) - Gives Kaidan a higher poly face and new hair

Casual Hubs for LE1 - Shepard and squadmates will wear casual outfits in some situations

LE1 Diversification Project - Overhauls ME1 with lots of asset diversity, cut content, and mission changes. Read the Article page for more details! (This mod has some hard requirements, read the description)

Advanced Weapon Models for LE1 - Backports ME3 weapon models to LE1.

Normandy Rapid Transit (LE1) - Adds the Normandy to the rapid transit fast travel points.

Mira Puzzle Be Gone - Tired of the Towers puzzle in Noveria? Me too.

Children of Rannoch - A Quarian Overhaul (LE1) - My personal favorite "visible Tali/visible quarian" face mod

Elements of Comparative Weaponry (LE1) - Gives better description information on weapons

No Skill Check Required for Loot (LE1) _ Take whoever you want without worrying about skillchecks.

No Armor Skill Required - Equip armor without worrying about skills

XP Rescale (LE1) - Increases XP rewards

ME3 Alliance Armor for LE1 - Backports the ME3 marine armor for marines to wear in LE1

Mako Squadmate Banter - Adds the elevator banter to the Mako (Please note this mod has a hard requirement)

Mako Infinite Boost - Self explanatory

No Sexual Harassment (LE1 and LE2) - Removes a variety of things, such as sexist dialogue and the weird Sha'ira touching. I personally just remove the Sha'ira stuff.

Virmire Savior Mod (LE1) - Lets you save both Kaidan and Ashley on Virmire (note, do disable Kaidan Alenko Overhaul if using this mod)

Hot Labs Restored (LE1) - Massive cut content restoration for Noveria

Caleston Restored (LE1 - ALPHA) - Restores the cut planet Caleston that used to be the place for Liara's recruitment mission.

Punch Charles Saracino - Why punch a reporter when you can punch Terra firma?

New Outfit for Matriarch Benezia - GIves Benezia some more practical outfits for her appearance.

LE2

Unofficial LE2 Patch - Necessary

LE2 Prologue Framework - Necessary for many mods

Early Recruitment (LE2) - Early recruitment of Tali, Samara, Thane, Legion, and access to Illium and Tuchanka pre -Horizon

EGM Weapons in Cutscenes (LE2) - Weapons you hold will properly appear in cutscenes.

Trigger Buttons (LE2) - Trigger story mission with a button press rather than forced into them

Cerberus and Alliance Uniform Consistency (LE2) - If you're like me and prefer the ME3 fatigues/uniforms

Anderson and Hackett Consistency Mod (ME2LE) - Anderson and Hackett wear their ME3 dress blues.

Risky Suicide Mission (LE2) - Makes the suicide mission in LE2 feel more like a suicide mission. Best used for a brand new playthrough

Cerberus Weapons (LE2) -Gives the game more Cerberus weapons, backported from 3

Modern Weapon Pack - Backports weapons from 3

Casual Hubs for LE2 - Shepard and squadmates will wear casuals on and off the normandy in some scenarios

Expanded Shepard Armory (ME2LE) - Large armor and casual mod, also allows you to select armor right before a mission

Virmire Savior Mod (LE2) - Continuation of Virmire Savior 1, allows one Virmire Survivor to confront you on Horizon while the other is a temp squadmate

One Probe All Resources - Use one probe to gather everything

No N7 Armor in Liaras Apartment - Removes the creepy armor in Liara's apartment.

F.I.S.H. Mod (LE2) - Kelly will feed your fish without flirting with her

Renegade Scars for All - LE2 - LE3 - If you're like me and love renegade scars and want them on always

Nos Astra Mineral Exchange - Adds a trading market to LE2 for resources and currency.

Same-Gender Romances for LE2 - Continues the same sex Kaidan and Ash romances from 1, adds Tali and Thane for same gender sheps. LE3 mod isn't out yet.

Oriana looks like Miranda's Twin (ME2LE) - Oriana's face is changed to Miranda's

Easy Armor Stats (LE2) - Armor stats are moved above descriptions

Skip Minigames for LE2 - As the title says

Bonus Bonus Powers For LE2 - Freely add or remove powers from Shep's loadout

Combat Evade Maneuvers - Adds a biotic dash for roll evade

Recovered Powers - Gives Shep 4 new powers

HD Romance Photos - Adds a larger photo for ME1 romances

Optional Flirting Mod (LE2) - Makes flirting options more clear and some actions optional via interrupts

Zaeed's Wholesome Revenge (LE2) - Save the workers AND kill Vido on Zaeed's loyalty mission if completed fast enough

Geth Pulse Rifle on Lower Difficulties - Don't want to play harder difficulties but want this gun? This mod is for you

Full Weapon Recovery - Recover all special weapons on the Collector ship

Skip Mass Effect 2 Prologue - Skips straight to character creator when starting a new game

Truly Unrestricted Weapons LE2 - Shepard and squad can equip all weapon types

Children of Rannoch - A Quarian Overhaul (LE2) - The LE2 version of the LE1 mod. Also has an optional addon for even more armors.

Extended Romance Scenes - Ports LE3 romance scenes for LE2 romances

No Shared Power Cooldowns - Removes the shared power cooldowns.

Kaidan and Ashley LE3 Armors for Horizon (MELE2) - As the name says, gives Kaidan and Ashley their ME3 armors in Horizon. Softly incompatible with Virmire Savior (the squadmate who is in your squad won't have the updated appearance)

More Gay Romances - Jack and MIranda can be romanced by Femshep

New Squadmate Casuals (LE2) - Casual outfits for various squadmates. (Note that a lot of the Squadmate armor mods have their own casuals, so choose options accordingly if you want a specific one to show up, as this mod will override most)

Platonic Post Horizon Emails - Get a new email from Kaidan/Ashley if not romanced post Horizon.

LE3

LE3 Community Patch - Necessary

Expanded Galaxy Mod (LE) - A massive overhaul of the galactic war system, Normandy, additional squadmates on some missions, and many QOL features that can be modified via settings.

Miranda Mod (LE) - Puts Miranda on the Normandy post Horizon and can bring her on missions. (Note: Some conversations do use AI voice cloning)

N7 - A Spectre's Gift - A new mission added to the game with some Andromeda references

Spectre Expansion Mod - I don't currently use it, but in the past I have. Requires EGM's Galactic War option, and provides a lot of new choices and mini missions and text based opportunities to influence war assets. Also has a small non-combat mission.

Skip Geth Consensus - As the title says.

Project Variety (LE3) - My personal preferred content overhaul for ME3, includes countless options, restore cut content, new areas to explore. Definitely a mod page to read very closely, it is a HEAVY mod.*

Virmire Savior Mod (LE3) - Continuation of Virmire Savior from previous games. One VS is chosen on Mars to be part of the story, and the other joins you post coup

Audemus' Happy Ending Mod - THE Happy end mod for ME

Kaidan Alenko's Hospital Stay - Gives Kaidan a shirt to wear while in the hospital + a new face texture.

Ashley Williams' Hospital Stay - Gives Ashley a shirt to wear while in the hospital + a new face texture.

Omega Hub - Beta - Adds Omega as a hub

Take Earth Back - Massively overhauls Priority: Earth

No Shared Power Cooldowns - Removes the shared power cooldowns

Dreams Remade - Overhauls the dream cutscenes

Kaidan Alenko Overhaul (LE3) - Gives Kaidan a higher res face and new hair, plus new armors and outfits (Also available for 2, but isn't compatible with the Prologue Framework currently.)

Padme's Cabin Additions and Memorials (LE3) - Adds some new decoration to the cabin

Apartment Additions (LE3) - Allows you to invite your LI to the Citadel Apartment

Thane Can Live (LE3) - Thane can live post coup

Optional Flirting Mod (LE3) - I don't currently use it since it's incompatible with Virmire Savior, but makes flirting options clearer

Citadel Epilogue Mod (LE3) - Play the Citadel DLC post-ending

Pinnacle Station Apartment (LE3) - Ports the Pinnacle Station apartment to LE3 and you can invite your LI.

Shut Up Leng - Removes Kai Leng as much as possible from ME3

BETA Bonus Bonus Powers for LE3 - Customize Shepard's and squadmate power loadouts

Ashley Consistency Project (MELE3) - Ports Ashley's LE1 hair and head to ME3, adds new armors and a zipped up version of her outfit.

More Gay Romances - Jack and Miranda can be romanced by Femshep

*Note that PV has a lot of mods built into it, so there's lots of mods I've likely left out because I use PV.

Cosmetics authors for various games. This includes outfits/hair for Shepard. SEARCH THE APPAREL CATEGORY ON LE NEXUS FOR BEST RESULTS. This list also isn't exhaustive, but I tried to include authors who I've used their outfit/armor/hair mods, and made notes if they also have stuff in the squadmate armor category.

If you want Squadmate Armor mods, both the APPAREL and CHARACTER category will give you results.

clericofshadows: I primarily do male shepard casuals and armors, with a handful of exceptions for femshep (Guardian Armors for Shepard, my port of the Destiny 2 x ME collab), as well as squadmate armors

MorningAngel: Both male and female shepard, does causals and hair, and I mean lots of casuals and hair. Squadmate armors as well

Munchyfly: Squadmate armors and various casual/armors for shepard

Bejeweledhanban - Squadmate armors

spiderbabes: Hair and clothing for femshep

Rngdshep: Primarily armor, casuals for femshep, some mshep mixed in the femshep mods

Beckaboo: Some causals, some armors, and squadmate armors.

zebbros: Male and femshep casuals, some squadmate armors

MentalHygiene: male and femshep casuals

Padme4000: Male and femshep casuals and armors, some hair

Poucinette: Hair mods

Horography: Casuals for both male and femshep

Marcus22Khaar: Some hair, some squadmate armor mods

mithran56 and nanuke: both authors have some armors and casuals, some squadmate armors (often collaborate on each other's projects)

Kinkojiro: Armors for both male and femshep

Mistyvail: Armors for both male and femshep

Dsetzu: Armors for both male and femshep

jasonntodd: Armors and casuals for femshep, and some for squadmates

I think that covers most things? There's a lot I most definitely left out, so browse Nexus!

[castawaycat]

Chapter 22: The Tales of a Little Tiger- Terrible Two's

Summary: A cute fluffy chapter where Natasha learns what it's like to take care of a two year old while Wanda is away on a work trip. Peter and y/n have a playdate.

You were now two years old and had entered your terrible twos. Your favorite word was “no” and you loved pushing your mama’s buttons. 

“Y/n, let’s get dressed so we can go see Peter and uncle Tony.” Natasha said as she chased you around as you giggled. 

“No.” You said as you giggled as you ran from your mama. You let out loud giggles when she caught you and kissed your tummy. 

“I caught you, my little tiger!” Nat said as she caught you. She carried you to the bathroom, “can you try to use the potty for mama?” She asked as she placed you on your pink training potty. 

You still wore diapers at bedtime but ever since you had turned two years old your mama’s let you wear princess pull up diapers and they placed you on a big girl potty. If you did good then sometimes they would give you a special treat. You sat on the potty and concentrated real hard and you smiled when you heard yourself tinkle in the potty. You clapped your hands at your achievement. 

“Great job, Y/n!” Nat said excitedly as she helped you put on your pull up. She then helped you wash your hands. “After you get dressed you can have a treat.” 

Your mama dressed you into a cute outfit and braided your hair. She also helped you put on your shoes and once you were dressed she gave you a small lollipop.

You sat on the couch playing on your tablet as your mama grabbed your backpack and finished getting ready. 

“Alright, let’s go to the car. You can bring your tablet.” Nat said as she held out her hand to you as she waited for you. 

As you sat in your car seat you sucked on your lollipop and played on your tablet. You were pretty smart for your age and your Babu and Dedu had talked your mama’s into getting you a tablet with educational games and videos installed. 

Natasha smiled as she drove. She could hear you singing and trying to say the alphabet and count. She couldn’t get over how fast you had grown in a year. 

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Peter ran up to hug you when he saw you walk out of the elevator. “Y/n! Daddy got me a new toy! Do you want to see?” He asked excitedly. 

You smiled big as you held onto Peter’s hand and ran with him to his playroom. You loved playing with Peter because he always had the best toys. Your mama Wanda was always careful with what toys you were allowed to play with. Your eyes grew big when Peter showed you an electric car. “Car!” You said excitedly as you pointed to it. 

Peter giggled as he opened the passenger side door, “come on get in!” He said as he helped you get in and then he got on the drivers side. He started to drive the car around the apartment. 

“Hey buddy, not too fast!” Tony said as he called out to Peter. He smiled as he heard you giggling as Peter drove. 

“Really Tony? An electric car. Wanda is going to kill me for letting Y/n get in a car with a four year old driver.” Nat said as she shook her head and laughed. 

Tony shrugged his shoulders, “Wanda doesn’t have to know and besides the kid is a great driver. He’s got good hand eye coordination.” 

Nat agreed with Tony as she couldn’t stop smiling watching Peter drive his electric car all around the apartment. She turned to Tony, “Yelena and Kate want to know if there is a way that you can age down their little, America?” 

Tony sat down on the couch in front of Natasha, “sure that shouldn’t be a problem. How is the kid settling in? I’m assuming things are going well if they’ve already decided to age her down to her headspace age.” 

“She’s settled in really well with Yelena and Kate, and of course Lucky loves her. America has had a rough life with losing her real mother’s and I think a lot of healing can come from giving her a fresh start. She’s so much happier and relaxed when she’s in her little headspace.” Nat says as she takes a sip of her coffee. 

Just as Tony is about to respond he jumps up at the sound of the electric car thudding into a wall and the sound of you crying. “Bambi, what happened?” He asked Peter as he ran into the playroom. 

Peter looked scared as he looked at you crying and then at his daddy and auntie Nat. “Sorry daddy. Didn’t mean to.” 

Nat quickly picked you up and tried to comfort you. She noticed a giant bump forming on your forehead. Yep. Wanda was definitely going to kill her. “It’s okay baby. Let’s go put some ice on your owie.” 

“It’s okay Bambi, you’re not in trouble. Accidents happen. Why don’t you go pick out a movie and I’ll make us all some popcorn.” Tony said as he comforted his son and hugged him. 

“Okay daddy!” Peter said excitedly as he wiped away his tears. He was glad that his daddy wasn’t mad at him. 

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

You fussed in your mama’s arms as she tried to hold an ice pack to your forehead. “No!” You yelled as you pushed the ice pack away. 

“No ma’am, we don’t yell at mama like that. I know it’s cold but it will help you feel better.” Nat said firmly as she held the ice pack to your head. She pulled out a sippy cup filled with breastmilk and handed it to you hoping that it would help calm you down. 

“Tanks mama.” You said as you slowly started to calm down. You started to drink your mama Wanda’s breastmilk as it made you feel safe. 

Nat carried you to the living room where Tony and Peter sat waiting with a big bucket of buttery popcorn. She smiled when you sat next to Peter and gave him a hug. “So, what movie are we watching?” 

“Lilo and Stitch!” Peter said happily as he pointed to the giant flatscreen tv. 

Everyone ate popcorn and enjoyed the movie. Nat kept a careful eye on you to make sure that you didn’t have a concussion and she relaxed a little when she saw that the bump had gone down a little. 

By the end of the movie you and Peter had fallen asleep and were cuddled on the couch together. Tony smiled and took a picture of the two of you with his phone, the sight was simply too precious. 

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

When Wanda got home she could hear you giggling in the bathroom as Natasha was giving you a bath. She smiled as she put her luggage by the door. “I’m home!” 

You squealed happily when you saw your mama Wanda walk into the bathroom. “Mama home!” You missed your mama Wanda and you were so happy that you tried to climb out of your bubble bath. 

“Oh my baby, what happened to your head?” Wanda asked as she got on her knees by the tub and hugged you not even bothered that you were soaking wet. She gave Natasha a ‘what the hell happened’ look. 

“Car! Ouchie!” You said as you pointed to your head and tried to explain what happened to your mama. 

Wanda felt anxious as she looked at you and then turned to Natasha, “did you get into a car accident? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“It wasn’t technically a car accident. I mean it was but not our car. Tony got Peter an electric car and Y/n was riding with Peter and they ran into a wall.” Nat explained as she rinsed you off and then grabbed your tiger towel and wrapped you up so that Wanda could pick you up. 

“You let a four year old drive our daughter around in an electric car?” Wanda said in disbelief as she picked you up out of the tub. She was upset that you had gotten hurt, she was very protective over you. 

Wanda placed you in a diaper and dressed you into your pajamas. She kissed your forehead as she gave you a sippy cup full of her breast milk. “I missed you, my little tiger.” She said as she rocked you in the rocking chair in your room. 

Your eyes became heavy as you drank your milk and breathed in your mama Wanda’s scent. You had missed being in her arms.

Nat walked in and smiled when she saw Wanda tuck you into your toddler bed. “She’s growing up so fast.” 

Wanda smiled as she looked up, “she really is. Look, I’m sorry that I got so upset earlier. I just hate seeing her get hurt; but that’s part of a child’s development. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I can’t put her inside a bubble.” Wanda said as she walked over to her girlfriend Nat and wrapped her arms around her. 

Nat leaned down and kissed Wanda on the lips. “I’m so glad that you are home; and I feel the same as you. Sometimes I wish we could put her in a bubble. Also our daughter is very fond of the word ‘no’.” Natasha said as she let out a quiet chuckle. 

Wanda giggled, “she gets that from you dear.”

[alicent-vi-britannia]

Like Knightmare, Like Pilot

Hey, Larry! Did you notice that the design and armament of Knightmares reflect the personality and attack style of their pilot? Don't believe me? I'll prove it to you. But I'm going to focus on the unchangeable features that were installed in the first version, since Knightmares are updated as the series progresses and, if I stop to analyze the new implements, I'll never finish. Besides, it won't be necessary.

Let's start with the Gawain (the same one that Shinkiro is based on, which is the Knightmare that Lelouch operates in R2). The Gawain has a tracking system called Druid since it was created specifically for the purpose of investigating the structure and function of Thought Elevators. However, after the Black Knights took possession of it, that system was used to track the possible movements of enemy units, which makes this Knightmare a perfect unit to command others. These characteristics are perfectly compatible with Lelouch's leading and strategic nature. Lelouch is the commander of his military unit. He is the brain that designs all the plans and strategies because he can predict the enemy's and prepare an effective counterattack.

At the same time, Gawain is the first Knightmare to have a pair of hadron cannons installed on each shoulder, allowing it to emit continuous streams of destructive energy at prodigious ranges. Therefore, it is a Knightmare that can execute long-range attacks. This type of armament makes it the perfect Knightmare for Lelouch. He needs to fully and thoroughly visualize the entire battle and anticipate his opponents' attacks in order to design effective strategies to neutralize them. He can know and measure the effects that his Knightmare's long-range attacks will have. He is a long-term strategist.

The Hadron Cannons give Gawain great destructive power and, due to their blooming effect, Gawain fires in an erratic manner. This is matched by the chaos and devastation that Lelouch causes. The boy is so immersed in his revenge that, at first, he doesn't see what and who he is taking out. As you may recall, Gawain also has two seats and is usually controlled by two people: C.C. and Lelouch. She is in charge of navigation, while Lelouch has access to the weaponry because, as Schneizel said about chess, Lelouch "is an offensive style player" (he wasn't going to act any differently on the battlefield).

Gawain doesn't have an ejector seat, unlike other Knightmares, since it is an unfinished prototype. I interpret it as Lelouch's willingness to die for his goals and what he believes in. "Only those who are willing to die should have the power to kill." That's his credo.

Despite its incredible capabilities, Gawain is a rather slow battle unit and can be easily outmatched by other small, fast Knightmares (like Cornelia's Knightmare, which isn't as technologically advanced a prototype as Kallen's and Suzaku's, but is fast and fierce in hand-to-hand combat, fitting the belligerent character of Britannia's best warrior princess). This translates into Lelouch's weaknesses. The boy needs to think before acting, and if he doesn't take into account some variable that may appear later or nothing goes according to his plan, he's lost, because Lelouch doesn't know how to adapt to situations. He doesn't know how to improvise. See, every time he's in check it's because he's thinking about what he can do (and his intuition tells him that nothing works) and unfortunately the battlefield isn't a place where you can stop and think.

But you know who can adapt well to situations and improvise better than anyone else? Yes, Kallen.

Guren is the complete opposite of the Gawain, as it is a short-range attack Knightmare by virtue of lacking long-range weapons and instead being equipped with a knife, a custom pistol, the Slash Harker, and of course, its main weapon is its right hand, which houses the Radiant Wave Surger, which is a powerful microwave radiation emitter. So Guren needs to get close to its opponent in order to grab them and fry them. Thus, Guren takes to the field as a Knightmare as a melee unit and with an aggressive, direct and opportunistic attack style.

Kallen is well suited to that fighting style (and that type of Knightmare) as she is direct, spontaneous, impulsive, and practical. But all of this means that Kallen takes a lot more risks, and since she can't predict the consequences of her own or her opponents' attacks, her Knightmare is more vulnerable to damage, and indeed, when she is outmatched, it's because her Knightmare has been affected, things that are out of her control (not because she ran out of ideas or was surprised by something she didn't see coming, like Lelouch).

The fandom believes that Kallen isn't a strategist and is just pure brute force. In reality, she is a good tactician. She doesn't stop to think: "I won't do this because the Guren's arm will be damaged." No, that's Lelouch who is comfortable planning the entire battle in his mind to prevent possible setbacks before taking action. She simply connects to her environment and responds to the stimuli, as they arise in the moment, in what is happening. A good example of this can be seen in episode 9 of the first season. Kallen is in a Sutherland and is outnumbered by a police Knightmare, but she manages to win at the last minute when the Knightmare is about to give her the coup de grace. How did she do it? Because Kallen fires her Harken Slash, grabs onto some infrastructure and pulls, so that the Knightmare crashes into the infrastructure and the pilot dies. I mean, Kallen worked with the elements she had at her disposal.

By the way, something that was emphasized quite a bit in episode 10 of season 1 is that Guren is the first Japanese Knightmare and Kallen identifies herself as Japanese, so the Guren reflects her identity. But, after Lloyd and Cécile had access to it, it was reconfigured, modified, and updated. So we can say that Guren, who is a Knightmare made using Japanese and Britannian technology, and Kallen, who is the daughter of a Japanese woman and a Britannian man, are mixed-bloods. Did you notice that, Larry?

Also, the Knightmare has blue eyes and is red in color. Kallen is a redhead with blue eyes (and sometimes wears red clothes).

Now, what about Suzaku?

Lancelot is a Knightmare that has different weapons: two Vibrating Maser Swords, a VARIS particle rifle, two shields (called Blaze Luminous, in case you didn't know, Larry), two data sphere sensors, and four Slash Harkens, which are, roughly speaking, projectiles, and the curious thing about these Slash Harkens is that they have experimental thrusters called Harken Boosters that can improve Lancelot's speed and allow it to change direction in mid-flight. And what is Suzaku's best quality in combat? No, Larry, it's not being "annoying." It's his speed. The guy is so fast that bullets don't hit him when he's running (he has to stand still for them to hit him). The Guren has the Landspinner propulsion system, only it's built into its legs, while the Lancelot has it in its feet, so this Knightmare is as fast as its pilot.

Regarding the different weapons, I think about the training Suzaku has received throughout his life. In the flashback with Tohdoh, he's training with swords (Katanas, surely). In the army, he would have received training on the use of firearms. (Guren, by the way, only had one knife, and Kallen carried a pocketknife hidden up and down her body throughout the first season - coincidence? I don't think so.) If you ask me, Lancelot has the bearing and weapons of a medieval knight, which reflects not only Suzaku's chivalrous attitude, but also his rank as a knight in the Britannian army (first as Princess Euphemia's knight, and then as one of the Knights of Rounds).

As you can see, this is another Knightmare that doesn't have long-range weapons. They're short-range, too. So, the Lancelot is a melee unit just like Kallen's Guren. Suzaku and Kallen are trained in self-defense, mind you. On the other hand, the Lancelot lacks an ejection system like the Gawain. Leaving aside that Lloyd is so excited about installing weapons and upgrades that he forgets to install an ejection seat and that he doesn't care enough about the physical integrity of his pilot, I associate it with Suzaku's kamikaze will. Even if he had one, he might not use it because he wants to atone for his sins through death.

Aside from that, the Lancelot has green eyes and is white. Suzaku also has green eyes and his uniform is white.

In short, Gawain is the right Knightmare for an INTJ like Lelouch, while Lancelot and Guren are ideal for Suzaku and Kallen respectively, who are two Sensors (he's ISFJ and she's ESFP), meaning they pay more attention to their physical reality (Lelouch is more focused on reading situations between the lines).

Anyway, you guys might have more to contribute to the conversation since you like mecha and are more familiar with it than I am.

[screenmobile]

Why Do People Like Patios?

In today's fast-paced world, creating a comfortable and inviting outdoor space has become a priority for many homeowners. Patios, often considered extensions of indoor living areas, offer a multitude of benefits that enhance both the functionality and aesthetic appeal of a home.

Imagine stepping out into your backyard to find a serene retreat designed for relaxation, entertainment, and connection with nature. This is the allure of patios—a versatile outdoor space that seamlessly blends comfort with the outdoors. But what exactly makes patios so appealing? Let’s explore the reasons why homeowners cherish these outdoor spaces and how they can be transformed into year-round havens.

1. Extension of Living Space

Patios effectively expand your home's living area, providing a seamless transition between indoor and outdoor environments. Whether used for dining, entertaining, or simply unwinding, they offer functional spaces that cater to diverse needs. For those looking to maximize their patio’s usability throughout the year, three-season rooms offer a weather-protected alternative, allowing enjoyment regardless of temperature changes.

2. Ideal for Entertainment

A well-designed patio makes hosting gatherings effortless. Whether it’s a backyard barbecue, a family celebration, or an intimate evening under the stars, patios create a relaxed atmosphere perfect for socializing. To enhance your entertainment space, consider installing screen enclosures, which provide a balance of open-air living with protection from insects and the elements.

3. Connection to Nature

Spending time outdoors has been linked to numerous health benefits, including reduced stress and improved mood. Patios offer a dedicated space to soak in fresh air, listen to the sounds of nature, and enjoy the beauty of your surroundings. For homeowners who want an even more immersive outdoor experience, sunrooms provide a bright and inviting space to connect with nature while staying sheltered from unpredictable weather.

4. Increased Property Value

A thoughtfully designed patio can significantly boost your home’s market appeal. Prospective buyers often see well-maintained outdoor spaces as valuable assets, making your property stand out in the real estate market. Features like durable materials, outdoor kitchens, and custom enclosures can further enhance your home’s attractiveness.

5. Versatility and Customization

Patios offer endless customization options to suit your lifestyle. From classic flagstone designs to modern concrete finishes, homeowners can tailor their outdoor space with features like fire pits, water elements, and built-in seating. If you’re looking for a more enclosed setup, screen enclosures provide additional comfort and protection while maintaining an open feel.

6. Low Maintenance

Unlike high-maintenance gardens or lawns, patios require minimal upkeep. Routine cleaning and occasional repairs keep them in great condition for years, making them a practical choice for homeowners seeking a long-lasting outdoor solution.

7. Enhanced Aesthetic Appeal

A well-designed patio can transform your backyard into a visually stunning retreat. Elements such as decorative lighting, lush planters, and stylish furniture enhance its appeal, creating an inviting atmosphere. For a seamless blend of indoor and outdoor aesthetics, three-season rooms offer a polished look while maintaining an outdoor ambiance.

8. Health and Well-being

Having a patio encourages outdoor activities like yoga, meditation, and morning coffee rituals. These simple habits contribute to physical and mental well-being, making your patio a personal sanctuary.

9. Entertainment Features

Modern patios often include outdoor kitchens, fire pits, and built-in entertainment systems, elevating the outdoor living experience. These additions extend the space’s usability, making it perfect for year-round enjoyment.

10. Sustainable Living

Eco-friendly patios using sustainable materials, permeable pavers, and native plants contribute to environmental conservation. Thoughtful design choices help reduce water usage and support local ecosystems while creating a relaxing outdoor retreat.

Conclusion

Patios enhance outdoor living by offering a space for relaxation, entertainment, and connection with nature. Their versatility, low maintenance, and ability to boost property value make them a cherished addition to any home. Whether you want a simple patio or a more enclosed space like a sunroom or screen enclosure, the right design can transform your backyard into a functional and beautiful retreat.

Looking for the perfect screen solution? Screenmobile of South Bend offers high-quality installations tailored to your home. Explore custom options today!

[saviinika]

WIP GAME - Blood Will Tell

@ravelsquadespresso asked about Blood Will Tell, the third novel in my original series. Now, normally I would love to give my 30 second elevator speech, but because I’m trying to keep my ao3 persona and my irl details separate, I gotta edit this a bit, which means it will be lighter on the details than usual (sorry!).

Here we go:

Blood Will Tell is the third instalment in a cozy mystery series set in a small village. The FMC of the series is a widowed military spouse with an adult disabled son who finds love again in the second book. Through a series of mishaps and her own nosiness, she gets involved with local law enforcement in the first book, and forms a “found family” of sorts, which includes her lesbian best friend fresh out of a divorce, a local non-binary baker & volunteer firefighter, a detective with a heart of gold, and the commanding officer for the police district.

In Blood Will Tell, the detective teams up with an out-of-town forensics expert on a suspicious death investigation. The victim is a local lawyer and visiting their home brings more questions than answers. While they’re trying to find the killer, the detective (m) realizes he’s falling fast for his autistic ‘partner’ (the forensics expert, m) and has a bisexual crisis. After some startling findings and gold ol’ fashioned whump, happy endings ensue.