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rodentluvrr · 3 months ago

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A helping hand

Pairing: Law x reader Summary: When you're rushing to submit your university application on the last possible day, an unexpected encounter with a tall, tattooed surgeon at a hotel makes everything a bit less/more complicated. CW: Anxiety, procrastination, swearing, college mentioned Word count: 3k+ words Tags: Modern AU, romance, enemies to lovers lowkey, slow burn, humor, surgeon/medical A/N: YOU FREAKS IM BACK‼️‼️ This fic literally happened to me in real life like it's inspired from personal experience —well, unfortunately without the Law part—but it felt like something straight out of a movie/fanfic and it NEEDED to exist out there. Anyway so if any of you want a continuation perhaps....it could turn into a series????😏 I had so much fun writing the dialogue between law and reader. Hope u enjoyyy. Let me know what u think :)

Returning from a short vacation at your parents’ house should have been easy. But today, it felt unbearable. The heat was suffocating, the city streets felt endless, and none of it compared to the real problem at hand—the fact that today was the deadline for your university application.

You had plenty of time. You knew this was coming. And yet, you spent the past week lounging on your parents’ couch, ignoring the looming deadline in favor of doing absolutely nothing. Now, in a desperate attempt to salvage your future, you were running through the city, searching for any open internet café.

Most were closed. They had small hordes of nerdy teenage boys loitering around, waiting for them to open and idly waste the afternoon on video games. When you asked, they shrugged, saying the cafés wouldn’t open for at least another hour.

You didn’t have an hour.

Panic clawed at your throat as you checked the time. If you didn’t register for your third year, you’d be disqualified—or, at the very least, your life would become infinitely more complicated. Your stomach twisted at the thought. Every step you took through the crowded streets felt heavier, more hopeless. You weren’t going to make it.

Then, you saw it. A hotel. It wasn’t fancy—probably a budget-friendly place for travelers passing through. It was your last hope.

You pushed through the glass doors without thinking, zeroing in on the man behind the reception desk. He had been talking to someone when you entered, but their conversation stopped the moment you rushed forward. You didn’t even spare the other man a glance. You didn’t have time for that.

The receptionist listened to your rushed, panicked explanation and, to your surprise, nodded in understanding.

“Actually, the hotel has a computer room available. You can use it,” he said.

Relief flooded you. “Thank you—seriously, thank you.”

He led you to the room, and the moment you stepped inside, your heart sank. It was small, cluttered, barely more than a glorified storage closet. And the computer—God, the computer looked ancient, a relic from the 90s covered in dust.

But you didn’t care.

You sat down, powered it on, logged in, and started filling out your information. Everything was going fine. Until the screen suddenly froze.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“No, no, no. Fuck- You have to be kidding me.” This cannot be happening right now. Someone must’ve cursed you. How could you be so unlucky?

Frantically, you clicked the mouse. Nothing. You pressed a few keys. Still nothing. The whole system had locked up.

Swearing under your breath, you stormed back to the reception. “The computer froze. Can you help?”

The man frowned, following you back into the room. He sat at the desk, clicking a few things, but it was clear he had no idea what he was doing. The more he fumbled, the worse you felt.

Then, sighing in defeat, he stood. “I’ll ask someone.”

You barely paid attention as he left the room and called out into the lobby. “Law?Do you know anything about computers? Come help.”

Heavy footsteps approached. A second later, another man entered the room. It was the man the receptionist had been talking to when you came.

And just like that, your stomach flipped for an entirely different reason.

He was tall. His presence filled the room instantly, suffocating in an entirely new way. He barely glanced at you as he moved toward the desk, but in that fleeting moment, you took in everything. Dark eyes. Tattoos, sprawling up his arms and chest, creeping beneath the open collar of his shirt. And his hands—his fingers were long, marked with the word DEATH, and it was ridiculous, truly ridiculous, how your mind wandered for a second too long about what those hands would feel like around your throat. Something about his presence made it hard to look away.

Your body felt too warm. You blamed the heat.

He sat in front of the computer, working quietly. He moved with precision, like he already knew the problem before even touching the keyboard. The other man had to return to the reception desk, leaving you two alone in the small room.

Then, without looking up, he asked, “What’s your name?”

His voice was deep. Slow. You hated that it sent a small shiver down your spine.

You told him.

He finally glanced at you, shaking your hand. His grip was firm, warm fingers enveloped your hand.

“Trafalgar Law,” he said simply.

You raised a brow. “That’s a mouthful.”

“You can just call me Law.”

Your fingers slipped from his, but he didn’t move away, still focused on the computer.

“So,” he said, “what exactly were you trying to do here, young lady?”

Young lady? You bristled.

“Trying to submit my college application,” you muttered, arms crossing.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Left it for the last minute, didn’t you?”

You scoffed. “Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Perfect.” Your irritation flared. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know anything about you.

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head before his eyes flicked back to you. “What are you even doing here, anyway? You don’t look like a tourist.”

You shifted, hesitating for a moment before answering. “I was visiting my parents. But I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”

His smirk faltered—just for a second, so quick you almost missed it.

“I could say the same about you,” you added, tilting your head.

His smirk widened just slightly. “I’m here for a medical convention.”

That caught your attention. You blinked. “Wait—you’re a doctor?”

His gaze met yours, unreadable. “Surgeon.”

You didn’t know why that information made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the way he said it. Or the way he was still looking at you, like he was waiting for something.

The computer’s screen was dark now. The man—Law—tried to turn it back on, but nothing happened. Neither of you spoke.

He held your gaze for a second too long, as if deciding something. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked out. You were left with only the hum of the old computer.

You exhaled sharply.

What the hell was that?

Before you could make sense of the moment, he returned—this time carrying a sleek, modern laptop. He set it down on the desk in front of you, flipping it open with one hand.

“Use this,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“The hotel’s computer is ancient. You’re wasting your time.” He leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. “Use mine.”

You hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered.”

His tone was dismissive, like you were wasting his time by questioning him. Rolling your eyes, you sat down and pulled the laptop closer. It was fast, responsive—so much better than the dinosaur of a computer you had been struggling with.

You started typing, fully aware of his presence hovering nearby.

After a minute, you glanced at him. “Are you just gonna stand there?”

“In case you need help.”

You scoffed. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on university applications too?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “No, but considering you waited until the last second to do this, I’d say you could use some supervision.”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t need supervision.”

“Debatable.”

Your fingers tightened around the mouse, and you forced yourself to focus on filling out the application instead of arguing with him. But it wasn’t easy, not when you could feel his gaze lingering, watching your every move.

After a minute, you glanced up, noticing the tattoos creeping out from under his sleeves.

“Seriously?” you said, cocking an eyebrow. “Trying to look mysterious with all that ink? You think that makes you intimidating?”

His eyes flickered to his tattoos before returning to yours. There was something a little smug about the way he smirked. “Maybe I like it,” he said, a glint of challenge in his voice. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

You laughed, leaning back slightly in the chair, eyeing him. “Oh, I’m sure you think it makes you look all tough. But what’s the deal with all of it? Some kind of ‘bad boy’ aesthetic you’re going for?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, unamused. “It’s not about looking tough. It’s about expression. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Expression, huh?” You smirked, your fingers moving faster over the keyboard, trying to focus. “Looks more like a cry for attention to me.”

His lips curled into a darker smile, the playful tone shifting into something more intense. “Maybe I want people to notice. Maybe I don’t care if you understand.”

“Yeah, I bet. Probably trying to distract everyone from your actual personality,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’ve got some deep, brooding backstory to go along with all this art?”

He gave you a flat look, but the smirk never fully left his lips. “If I did, I wouldn’t be sharing it with someone who can’t even bother to apply to university on time.”

Your head snapped up, eyes flashing. “Oh, you’re gonna bring that up again?”

He shrugged, uncaring. “What can I say? I’m just pointing out the obvious. You seem like the type to talk a big game but can’t back it up when it matters.”

“You’re full of yourself, huh?” You leaned forward, looking directly at him. “Maybe you’re just mad because you’re too busy getting tattoos to actually have any real emotions. Trying to hide behind your ink?”

His eyes narrowed, an edge to his voice now. “You don’t know shit about me.”

You couldn’t help the challenge that rose within you. “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly seem like the type to open up to anyone.”

The tension between you grew, charged and thick, but neither of you looked away. The air was filled with a sharp sort of energy, the kind that made everything feel slightly out of control.

He broke the silence first, his tone still steady but carrying an edge. “What makes you think I want to open up to you?”

You shrugged, lips curling into a taunting smile. “Maybe because you're not as tough as you act. You’re just scared of someone seeing through your bullshit.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his gaze flicking over your face like he was sizing you up. Then, without a word, he turned his attention back to the laptop and leaned against the desk again, his posture rigid, as if you’d pushed him too far.

For a few beats, neither of you said anything.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with something unspoken.

Then, he spoke. “You said you’re leaving in a few hours?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My bus is later today.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, but he didn’t move. If anything, he seemed to settle in, as if this was exactly where he intended to be.

Curiosity got the better of you. “So, what exactly do you do?”

He glanced at you, then exhaled through his nose, almost like he wasn’t planning to answer. But after a beat, he did. “I’m a surgeon. I told you, didn’t I?”

Your hands paused over the keyboard. “…Wait, seriously?”

“No, I’m lying for fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no mistaking the flicker of surprise that crossed your face. So he wasn’t lying? He didn’t seem much older than you—mid-to-late twenties, maybe—and yet, a surgeon? That explained the quiet confidence, the sharp, assessing way he looked at things.

“Huh.” You returned to typing, still processing the thought. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What does?”

You hesitated, then smirked slightly. “That you act like you know everything.”

He chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “I don’t act like I know everything.”

“You kinda do.”

“And yet, I was right about you needing help.”

“Wait,” you said, still reeling from the revelation. “How old are you, anyway?”

He paused, clearly considering whether he should answer. “Twenty-six,” he finally said.

You frowned. “And you’re already a surgeon? That’s… impressive.”

He didn’t seem to care much about the praise. “It’s just a job. You’re the one who’s in university, right? What are you studying?”

You stopped typing for a moment, taken off guard by the question. “Psychology,” you said, not quite sure why you were suddenly sharing so much with him. “I’m thinking about specializing in clinical psychology or maybe counselling. Something to help people.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious now. “That’s noble. But it’s not an easy path.”

You smirked. “Well, if it’s worth doing, it was never meant to be easy, right?”

He looked at you, his gaze softening for a second before he turned his attention back to the laptop. “True. But it can be frustrating. Surgery is like that too—people think it’s all glory, but it’s hard. It takes more than just knowledge. There are lives on the line every day.”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, especially not from someone who was actually living it. “Sounds intense.”

“It is. But you learn to manage it. You have to.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was lost in thought. “That’s why I’m here, actually. A medical convention. I mentioned it earlier.”

You blinked, still processing what he had said. “A medical convention? Here?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s in the city for a couple of days. Most of it is boring, but it’s part of the job.”

You couldn't help but laugh a little. “It sounds like the kind of thing you’d be more interested in than, I don’t know, enjoying the city.”

He gave a rare, genuine smile. “Maybe. But I’m not really here to sightsee.” He looked at you again, his expression softening for just a second. “I don’t usually get time to myself, honestly. The job’s demanding.”

There was an unexpected vulnerability in his words, and for a moment, you saw a side of him you hadn’t expected.

Before you could respond, your screen flashed—confirmation. Your application had been successfully submitted.

Relief crashed over you. “Oh my God. I did it.”

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. It was done. You wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of your own procrastination after all.

Law glanced at the screen, then back at you. He seemed disappointed. Time passed too quickly. “Guess you got lucky.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just let me have this win?”

“If you wanted a win, you shouldn’t have cut it this close.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, but before you could fire back, he pulled out his phone and handed it to you.

You blinked at it. “…What?”

“Your number.”

Your breath caught for a second.

He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t even looking at you, as if this was just an afterthought to him. But the way his fingers gripped the phone—just tight enough to betray the fact that maybe it wasn’t as casual as he made it seem—told you otherwise.

You raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

He finally met your gaze again, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Damn him.

With a small huff, you took the phone from his hand and started typing.

Law watched as you typed in your number, his arms crossed, expression unreadable. When you handed the phone back, you couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your lips.

“You’re planning to call me? See me again?”

He scoffed, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Oh? Then why’d you ask?”

His jaw tightened for half a second—so quick you almost missed it. Then, with a slow shrug, he muttered, “Maybe I like to keep an eye on people who make dumb decisions.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Right. Because procrastinating an application is a crime now?”

Law tilted his head slightly, studying you. “It’s reckless. But I guess you enjoy living on the edge.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you glanced at the time and felt the reality of your departure settle in. Your bus would be leaving soon.

Pushing your chair back, you stood up, adjusting your bag. “Well, guess I should get going.”

He cleared his throat, as if dismissing the moment, and straightened up. “Anyway, I guess it’s good you’ve got this sorted. You’ve got your bus to catch and all.”

You stared at him, unsure of why you suddenly didn’t want to leave. Something about the conversation—about him—was making you rethink everything.

You hesitated, before speaking. “Yeah. I’ve got to go. But… thanks for the laptop. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes followed you closely. “No problem. Just don’t make a habit of waiting until the last minute next time.”

You shot him a look, but he was already watching you with that unreadable expression again, dark eyes glinting with amusement.

He didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t move, either.

For a man who had spent the last 45 minutes teasing and judging you, he looked… hesitant.

His fingers tapped against his phone in an irregular rhythm, like his body was betraying the indifference he was trying to project.

You tilted your head. “What? No sarcastic comment? No parting words of wisdom?”

He exhaled through his nose. “…Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

There was a pause, a hesitation so thick you could almost touch it. Then, just as you turned toward the door, you caught the slightest movement—his fingers twitching, like he was about to reach out. But he didn’t.

You bit your lip.

Something about the way he held himself, rigid and unreadable, sent a strange, conflicting feeling through you.

You took a step forward, then stopped. Looking back at him, you said goodbye.

You turned back toward the exit, feeling his gaze still burning into you as you walked away.

You left, but that feeling didn’t. Something about the way he’d been so close, his gaze lingering, made you hesitate for just a second.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if you’d ever see him again.

#fanfiction #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #law x oc #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law x you #one piece x oc #one piece x reader

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lazeecomet · 7 months ago

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The Story of KLogs: What happens when an Mechanical Engineer codes

Since i no longer work at Wearhouse Automation Startup (WAS for short) and havnt for many years i feel as though i should recount the tale of the most bonkers program i ever wrote, but we need to establish some background

WAS has its HQ very far away from the big customer site and i worked as a Field Service Engineer (FSE) on site. so i learned early on that if a problem needed to be solved fast, WE had to do it. we never got many updates on what was coming down the pipeline for us or what issues were being worked on. this made us very independent

As such, we got good at reading the robot logs ourselves. it took too much time to send the logs off to HQ for analysis and get back what the problem was. we can read. now GETTING the logs is another thing.

the early robots we cut our teeth on used 2.4 gHz wifi to communicate with FSE's so dumping the logs was as simple as pushing a button in a little application and it would spit out a txt file

later on our robots were upgraded to use a 2.4 mHz xbee radio to communicate with us. which was FUCKING SLOW. and log dumping became a much more tedious process. you had to connect, go to logging mode, and then the robot would vomit all the logs in the past 2 min OR the entirety of its memory bank (only 2 options) into a terminal window. you would then save the terminal window and open it in a text editor to read them. it could take up to 5 min to dump the entire log file and if you didnt dump fast enough, the ACK messages from the control server would fill up the logs and erase the error as the memory overwrote itself.

this missing logs problem was a Big Deal for software who now weren't getting every log from every error so a NEW method of saving logs was devised: the robot would just vomit the log data in real time over a DIFFERENT radio and we would save it to a KQL server. Thanks Daddy Microsoft.

now whats KQL you may be asking. why, its Microsofts very own SQL clone! its Kusto Query Language. never mind that the system uses a SQL database for daily operations. lets use this proprietary Microsoft thing because they are paying us

so yay, problem solved. we now never miss the logs. so how do we read them if they are split up line by line in a database? why with a query of course!

select * from tbLogs where RobotUID = [64CharLongString] and timestamp > [UnixTimeCode]

if this makes no sense to you, CONGRATULATIONS! you found the problem with this setup. Most FSE's were BAD at SQL which meant they didnt read logs anymore. If you do understand what the query is, CONGRATULATIONS! you see why this is Very Stupid.

You could not search by robot name. each robot had some arbitrarily assigned 64 character long string as an identifier and the timestamps were not set to local time. so you had run a lookup query to find the right name and do some time zone math to figure out what part of the logs to read. oh yeah and you had to download KQL to view them. so now we had both SQL and KQL on our computers

NOBODY in the field like this.

But Daddy Microsoft comes to the rescue

see we didnt JUST get KQL with part of that deal. we got the entire Microsoft cloud suite. and some people (like me) had been automating emails and stuff with Power Automate

This is Microsoft Power Automate. its Microsoft's version of Scratch but it has hooks into everything Microsoft. SharePoint, Teams, Outlook, Excel, it can integrate with all of it. i had been using it to send an email once a day with a list of all the robots in maintenance.

this gave me an idea

and i checked

and Power Automate had hooks for KQL

KLogs is actually short for Kusto Logs

I did not know how to program in Power Automate but damn it anything is better then writing KQL queries. so i got to work. and about 2 months later i had a BEHEMOTH of a Power Automate program. it lagged the webpage and many times when i tried to edit something my changes wouldn't take and i would have to click in very specific ways to ensure none of my variables were getting nuked. i dont think this was the intended purpose of Power Automate but this is what it did

the KLogger would watch a list of Teams chats and when someone typed "klogs" or pasted a copy of an ERROR mesage, it would spring into action.

it extracted the robot name from the message and timestamp from teams

it would lookup the name in the database to find the 64 long string UID and the location that robot was assigned too

it would reply to the message in teams saying it found a robot name and was getting logs

it would run a KQL query for the database and get the control system logs then export then into a CSV

it would save the CSV with the a .xls extension into a folder in ShairPoint (it would make a new folder for each day and location if it didnt have one already)

it would send ANOTHER message in teams with a LINK to the file in SharePoint

it would then enter a loop and scour the robot logs looking for the keyword ESTOP to find the error. (it did this because Kusto was SLOWER then the xbee radio and had up to a 10 min delay on syncing)

if it found the error, it would adjust its start and end timestamps to capture it and export the robot logs book-ended from the event by ~ 1 min. if it didnt, it would use the timestamp from when it was triggered +/- 5 min

it saved THOSE logs to SharePoint the same way as before

it would send ANOTHER message in teams with a link to the files

it would then check if the error was 1 of 3 very specific type of error with the camera. if it was it extracted the base64 jpg image saved in KQL as a byte array, do the math to convert it, and save that as a jpg in SharePoint (and link it of course)

and then it would terminate. and if it encountered an error anywhere in all of this, i had logic where it would spit back an error message in Teams as plaintext explaining what step failed and the program would close gracefully

I deployed it without asking anyone at one of the sites that was struggling. i just pointed it at their chat and turned it on. it had a bit of a rocky start (spammed chat) but man did the FSE's LOVE IT.

about 6 months later software deployed their answer to reading the logs: a webpage that acted as a nice GUI to the KQL database. much better then an CSV file

it still needed you to scroll though a big drop-down of robot names and enter a timestamp, but i noticed something. all that did was just change part of the URL and refresh the webpage

SO I MADE KLOGS 2 AND HAD IT GENERATE THE URL FOR YOU AND REPLY TO YOUR MESSAGE WITH IT. (it also still did the control server and jpg stuff). Theres a non-zero chance that klogs was still in use long after i left that job

now i dont recommend anyone use power automate like this. its clunky and weird. i had to make a variable called "Carrage Return" which was a blank text box that i pressed enter one time in because it was incapable of understanding /n or generating a new line in any capacity OTHER then this (thanks support forum).

im also sure this probably is giving the actual programmer people anxiety. imagine working at a company and then some rando you've never seen but only heard about as "the FSE whos really good at root causing stuff", in a department that does not do any coding, managed to, in their spare time, build and release and entire workflow piggybacking on your work without any oversight, code review, or permission.....and everyone liked it

#comet tales #lazee works #power automate #coding #software engineering #it was so funny whenever i visited HQ because i would go “hi my name is LazeeComet” and they would go “OH i've heard SO much about you”

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everythingblackblack · 2 months ago

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KAISHIN INCORRECT QUOTES

Kaito: While you were sending me to hell, believe it or not, at that moment I thought you were very attractive and I said to myself, "I can't let that beauty go."

Shinichi: WHAT DID YOU DELETE, STUPID?

Kaito: That's it, dominate me. I love you.

Kid: I love you. <3 Shinichi: Really? Why? Kid: I love you, that's all. You want to know everything, damn it.

Kid: We shouldn't see each other so often. Shinichi: Why? Are you bored of me yet? Or are we going too fast? Kid: It's just that I don't have any more clothes. <[ Notes: My headcanon is that Shinichi is very jealous and doesn't know how to flirt. ]>

Shinichi: Are you a painter? Or is it because your dad is a work of art?

Shinichi: Wait a second… Shinichi: No! I didn't mean that! I mean… I'm not saying your dad isn't a work of art! Or that he's gay! Shinichi: ...

Shinichi: Honey, we won't be able to see each other today.

Kaito: Wasn't I supposed to meet your mom today? You're hiding me because I'm a thief, aren't you? Kaito: FORBIDDEN LOVE IS WHISPERED IN THE STREETS, BECAUSE WE ARE FROM DIFFERENT SOCIETIES.

Chikage: Hey! Stop crying, you're keeping me awake. Kaito: LEAVE ME ALONE! Chikage: Stop messing around, I told you I was an idiot and you didn't listen, now you have to put up with it. Kaito: You complain instead of comforting me.

Kaito: What happened? Shinichi: I have a problem. Kaito: Which? Shinichi: I have a biochemical process in the hypothalamus due to the secretion of dopamine. Kaito: What????? Shinichi: ... Shinichi: That I'm in love with you… Okay? Kaito: Really?? Shinichi: Yes...

Kaito: Honey, I'm going to sleep. Good night. <3 Shinichi: Have sweet dreams. <3 Shinichi: I see you online and I'll break your cell phone.

Shinichi: Jealous? Of what? You're mine. If he comes near you, I'll kick him. He should be careful.

Kaito: I'm bored, Bro. Shinichi: Which one, bro? I'm your boyfriend.

Shinichi: Answer me or I'll start getting high.

Shinichi: Honey, Who is Saguru? Kaito: A childhood friend, why? Shinichi: Because three days ago I went to your house, your mom showed me a picture of you with three kids, and there was this guy Saguru. So I started investigating and saw that you have him on Facebook and that he reacts to your pictures with a lot of hearts. So I went to his profile and saw that you also react to his pictures and share the same memes as him. You even tag him in posts. Look, he's so cool. You don't even tag me in a stupid post like "tag your boyfriend and he owes you something," and you tag him in everything. Do you like him? Because if you like him, I don't care because I'm going to kick his ass. Screw that fucking idiot! What does he think? I'm with a guy who hacks Facebook accounts, and I'm already logged into both. I deleted him from your friends list, and on his account, I posted that he's a boyfriend-stealing asshole, because he really is. Shinichi: I love you, baby.

Ran: Hi!!!

I saw your ad that you were looking for a boyfriend haha!!

My friend wants a boyfriend lol.

I came to get his application.

He's a good guy, he doesn't smoke but he does drink

And he's very attentive.

He doesn't usually shower, but when he goes out to see his partner, he showers and dresses nicely.

He works and he smells good when he showers.

He's kind of an idiot because he's so full of love.

I don't like him but as a boyfriend, he shows you off.

Kaito: I'll wait for you and be very patient, because I love your mentality.

I love you, even though I can't see you, can't be by your side.

I feel you with me and I want to be with you.

Kaito: I made us a drawing. Shinichi: Marry me.

Kaito: I wouldn't trade you for anything. Shinichi: Still a fucking mess? Kaito: You're my fucking mess, only mine, and I love it.

Toichi: Hey, is that damn drunk I saw with your boyfriend drunk?

Kaito: Yeah, he's my boyfriend, and he's not a drunk.

Toichi: Ahhhh

Toichi: How the hell not?

Toichi: Yeah, I've seen him throw bottles.

#magic kaito #kaishin

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sexydreamgirl · 6 days ago

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Advice on starting an loa blog?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Here are my top tips as an experienced law of assumption blogger:

There are three qualities you absolutely need in order to run a law of assumption blog: 1. patience 2. empathy 3. MORE patience. If you're posting content that centers around application, naturally people will come to you to ask questions if they don't understand or need advice. Questions may range from trauma dumping to hate to disagreement and beyond. If you don't have the qualities mentioned, you may want to reevaluate.

GET ALL OF YOUR INFORMATION FROM NEVILLE! Having a platform is such a huge responsibility, that's why it’s so important to be mindful of what you’re sharing with your followers (especially when it comes to the law of assumption) You don't want to unintentionally spread misinformation, limiting beliefs or both. Refrain from regurgitating information from another person if you don't understand it. Neville will always be your safest bet!

Tied to the previous point, be wary of your sources. Be careful what you learn from others and carefully evaluate whether or not you choose to share that with your followers. Keep their best interest at heart.

Stand out from other blogs. There might be a million posts on states, living in the end, fulfillment, etc. but you may be able to articulate yourself in a way that will help make it click for somebody else, you never know! Don’t sell yourself short by thinking that just because there are already plenty of posts out there that you don’t need to make one yourself.

If you’re comfortable with it, speak from experience. It can cultivate a sense of trust and relatability to your followers and you’ll help them learn from your mistakes.

Make friends in the community! It’s always great to rant to somebody else about running a blog and even having somebody to address your doubts if you ever have any. We're like a little family in a way, so don't be shy to socialize!

Create a connection with your followers. Get to know the wonderful people that follow you and if you’d like, you can always ask them for feedback on what to post next. They'll always be your best guide when it comes to what to post next.

Think about what you wish you could’ve read as a beginner if you ever need to come up with post ideas.

You’ll receive the same questions over and over again, be patient or set up a FAQ so you don’t lose your patience.

Watch how you convey your message and don’t lose sight of your moral stance when you answer questions. You’ll probably get a controversial or problematic one at some point, advise as best as you can but if you’re feeling conflicted you can simply delete the question. If you don't know how to answer, be honest (this applies to any question).

Set boundaries/guidelines with your followers and cherry pick your asks. Be clear about what you do and do not allow people to send you. Helping people can be taxing at times, never sacrifice your time or comfort and don’t do anything you don’t want to do.

If needed, taking a break is always an option. If you’re ever overwhelmed or experiencing burnout from making posts or answering questions, do not hesitate to log off. Your well being always comes first.

Remember that you’re under no obligation to help people and not everyone can be helped. Some people struggle more than others, it’s not your fault nor is it your problem. You're doing this for free (I think), after all. Don’t feel guilty if you can’t help.

Have fun! The community is full of so many diverse and lovely people and being part of it can be such an enriching experience. Running a blog is a hobby not a job so make it as enjoyable for you as possible!

Lastly, know that your bff Hera is here for you if you ever need anything ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ :༅｡♡｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ Happy blogging!

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year ago

Text

The Good In You (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Chapter Summary: Dex keeps his distance like he was ordered to, but not so far he can't keep an eye on her.

Genres/Warnings: small self inflicted wound (literally a paper cut lol), fluff, angst

Words: 2.6k

Tags: @danzer8705 @reblog-reblog666 @pcrushinnerd

Ao3 Link

Dex sat quietly at his desk, an untouched cup of black coffee in front of him, the screen of his computer buzzing in the silence of the office. No one ever came to the office as early as he did. It wasn’t a requirement to come in early—Dex just couldn’t find it in himself to sleep. He rubbed his eyes and adjusted himself in the uncomfortable office chair. Only a few other people were at the Bureau this early, and she wasn’t one of them.

Down the hall, just on the right side, was her exam room. Her name was posted on the outside of the door with the title “In House Nurse” underneath. Dex had been keeping a close eye on her recently after the events at the bar unfolded. A comfortable distance, hidden in plain sight. He mostly paid attention whenever he saw someone enter her room—especially if it was Beckett.

He gripped his pencil a little tighter and stiffened in his seat whenever he saw Beckett walk by. Hattley had ordered Dex, in private, to keep his distance from Beckett, as a way to keep the peace in the office. Dex wanted to scoff at her right there—since when was he the problem? Beckett was the one who paraded around like he owned the Bureau, paraded around like no one could not like him. But it was Dex who had to keep his distance?

Sure.

So Dex did as he was told—kept his distance, but never too far out of sight. Never too far to keep an eye on her.

His fingers twitched over the keyboard as his attention was drawn to the FBI’s database built into every computer. Only certain level agents had clearance to navigate the application, and Dex was one of them. He swiveled the mouse a few times, contemplating his next moves, until ultimately his impulse won him over and he clicked the application to log in.

He can search for anyone and any place with their database. Dex wasted no time in typing her name in the engine. He leaned forward on the desk and hunched his shoulders to cover the screen. Even though there wasn’t anyone else near him, he felt the urge to keep what he was doing hidden.

The system loaded for a few seconds until all the matches with her name popped up. When he saw a picture of her after the fourth click, he opened her file.

Originally from Upstate New York, she graduated from a small-town high school and went to Columbia University School of Nursing. She lives just outside of Hell’s Kitchen at a nice apartment complex not too far from Dex’s. Her family still lives upstate, so it’s just her in the city.

Dex continued to scroll through her file, curiosity getting the better of him. He’s confident he hasn’t even blinked yet from all the information he was taking in about her. She worked at Metro-General before becoming a nurse at the FBI. She was there for only two years. She’s been at the FBI only half a year. Dex can’t remember the first day she started—he often ignored the new people who started at the FBI because he didn’t see a point in conversing with them if it would never get farther than just being coworkers. But he does remember the first time he had to see her in her room. Friendly, smiling, kind. She offered numerous attempts at conversation that Dex didn’t take up. He remembers sitting quietly and letting her work on him. He preferred it that way, but now, he tried to engage with her whenever he was in her room. That was the most he could do. Try.

He clicks out of her file as he hears the doors of the Bureau open. It was nearly eight in the morning, so people were starting to arrive at the office. Looking over his shoulder, he sees her among the small crowd of employees walking in. Something coats his chest at the sight of her: anxiety.

She’s walking with her head down until she looks up from her phone and sees Dex sitting at a desk with a small smile on his face. She immediately lightens up at the sight of him and smiles, making a beeline to come talk to him. Dex takes a deep breath and takes one last look at his computer to make sure all the windows are closed.

“Good morning, Agent Poindexter,” she beams, and Dex is amused by how she has so much energy this early in the morning, while everyone else who walked in behind her practically dragged their feet—even him, when he first got here.

“Good morning, __,” Dex leans on the desk with his elbows to speak to her. “How are you?”

“I’m doin’ alright. You?”

“Same,” Dex said.

“You’re here early,” she notes and adjusts her tote bag on her shoulder. “Do you get to leave early too?”

“No,” Dex shakes his head. “Doesn’t work like that. Honestly, I couldn’t sleep so I figured I could get a head start on the day.”

“I understand,” she nods, looking away from him. Dex watches her break eye contact. He tries not to let his FBI training get in the middle of his interactions with her, but when someone breaks eye contact the way she did just now, it means she’s nervous to talk to him. Why would she be nervous?

“Did you uh—get coffee on your way in?” Dex asks her softly, a way to make her not feel nervous.

She meets his eyes again, and this time it’s Dex who feels uneasy. “I didn’t. I was going to brew a fresh pot here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dex waves his hand. “I’ll make it for you and bring it to your office.”

She smiles, holding his eye contact. “Well, okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. Dex watches as she walks away and into her exam room. His first task of the day wasn’t what he was supposed to do: it wasn’t to prep files and do investigative work. None of that mattered to him. What mattered was bringing her a fresh cup of coffee and knowing it was a job well done when she smiled at the sight of him holding it for her in the doorway.

◎◎◎

The rest of the day was easy for Dex to get through until Beckett came in and immediately shifted the energy of the office, specifically for Dex. Beckett practically waltzed in, glad to see Dex sitting at his desk following orders to keep a distance, while it was fair and free for Beckett to do as he pleased. Dex’s fingers twitched over the pencil he was holding, gently tracing the pencil tip over the pad of his thumb.

He directed his attention to his screen again and clenched his jaw. Even the sound of Beckett talking was enough for Dex to become incredibly annoyed. He hears him jeering with other agents, making small talk—it’s all just noise to Dex. It’s not until he catches Beckett’s eyes by mistake that an icy feeling coats his heart. Beckett glares at him right before knocking on her door.

Dex swallows hard as she opens the door and lets him inside. The door closes, and Dex lets out the breath he was holding. His heartbeat is in his ears and he shuts his eyes to calm himself down. Control the rage. The rage doesn’t control you. Dex wasn’t sure what Beckett’s motive was, but he knew it couldn’t be good. He wants to find her immediately and ask if she’s all right, if Beckett did anything to her in private, and the anticipation of their meeting ending almost drives Dex into a frenzy.

After a long five minutes, Beckett finally exits her exam room, looking less than pleased, to Dex’s delight. Dex can’t go in there right away though—he has to play his cards right to not look suspicious. Beckett disappears down the hallway and outside the Bureau, seemingly leaving for a meeting.

Dex doesn’t want to make it obvious that he watched that interaction unfold, and he doesn’t want her to think he’s been watching her office all day. He can’t just go to her office and ask what Beckett wanted. He needs an excuse. Dex searches the desk for anything he could use to give himself a small wound to see her, but finds nothing other than pencils and papers.

He takes a piece of paper and looks around to ensure no one’s watching. Under the desk, he slides the edge of the paper over his left pointer finger and cuts his skin open. Hiding the grimace on his face, Dex crumbles the paper and throws it in the trash. The small cut on his finger stings as air meets the open wound, drawing a small amount of blood. It was juvenile, but enough to get him to go to her room for a bandaid.

Dex gets up from his desk and walks consciously to her door. It was half open, and she was sitting at her desk looking at her computer. Dex knocks on the door softly.

“Dex,” she greets with a smile, “what’s up?”

Dex blushes and looks away sheepishly. “I may have a serious injury that needs to be checked out.” He holds up his finger and the laugh that emits from her is enough to calm him down.

“A paper cut? Goodness, we’ll have to have that checked out immediately. Close the door,” she jokes as she stands up to meet him. Dex shuts the door behind him and holds up his hand for her to examine. He watches her behind his hazel eyes and sees the feigned concern on her face. She holds his hand in hers and holds his finger up to the light.

“This will require some serious surgery. Wash your hands at the sink.”

Dex stands over the sink as she reaches up into a cabinet to fetch a bandaid for him. Dex takes a seat at the exam table and she walks over to him, opening the bandaid.

Before she puts the bandaid on him, she holds his finger again and inspects the cut that is perfectly in the middle of his finger. Dex is a puddle inside, feeling her holding his hand in concern. It seems she’s not joking like she was before and was worried about the cut. He can’t remember the last time anyone ever showed that much concern, even over a small paper cut.

“You gotta be careful handling those files,” she meets his hazel eyes and says in a low voice. “They may be small, but paper cuts have a mighty sting.”

“I know,” Dex shrugs, “they do hurt.”

She gently wraps the bandaid perfectly around his finger, holding his hand carefully in hers. When she’s done, she places his hand against his chest and smiles.

“All set.”

"Thank you,” Dex smiles in return, not wanting to leave but also not wanting to remain this close to her. She retreats slightly to give him room to get up but he doesn’t move.

“How’s your day going?” She asks, another attempt at conversation.

“Almost over,” Dex replies. “You?”

“Same,” she nods. “I’m happy you came by. A better visitor than I had before, just between me and you.”

Dex is somewhat relieved she brought up Beckett first. It’s really what he came in here for, to find out what it was he wanted. “Nurse-patient confidentiality,” Dex jokes. “Uh, what was it he wanted anyway?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “He asked to be my date for the gala in a few weeks.”

“The gala?” Dex asked, furrowing his brows. Then it dawned on him slowly. “Oh, right. The annual gala.” It didn’t occur to him at first because every year, Dex ignores the invite and doesn’t go. It’s a way to thank the agents and staff for all their hard work the year prior with fancy drinks and food, hosted at a banquet in the city. Frankly, Dex’s worst nightmare. To be stuck in an environment shaking hands with people he hardly knew, putting on a facade the whole night. Sure, he could’ve gone in the past and sat at a table with Nadeem, but Nadeem had his wife and Dex wasn’t too excited to third-wheel an event. He never had a reason to go.

Work was work. Why should he be awarded for simply doing his job?

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Well, what did you say?”

“I said no, of course. I don’t ‘date’ coworkers. And I especially wouldn’t go to that with him.”

“But you are going?” Dex asks her.

She nodded. “Yeah. It sounds fun. Are you going?”

Dex immediately shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, I don’t see myself going to that. I’ve never been.”

“Of all the years you’ve worked here you’ve never attended?” She asked incredulously.

Dex shook his head softly. “No.”

“Well, I for one love an excuse to get dressed up and eat free food, so I’m going. And I think I’d love to have you to hang out with me there.”

Dex smiled to himself, wishing it were easy for him to consider something like this. He might consider it, just for her. He must’ve been silent for a while and avoiding looking at her because she speaks again.

“I only feel close with you and Nadeem,” she admits, “we could all sit at the same table. If we can choose.”

“Nadeem will bring his wife,” Dex tells her, a way to make an excuse for this reality to not happen, even though deep down he wants to.

“So?” She smiles, “we’ll have a big table.”

“Other agents will probably have plus ones,” Dex tries to reason again.

“So then why don’t you be mine?” She asks in return. “Then the ratio won’t be awkward.”

Dex smiles and looks away from her again.

He just can’t do it.

“I thought you said you don’t date coworkers.”

“It’s not a date,” she corrects, “just a plus one as a friend.”

Friend.

“I don’t think I’m going,” Dex tells her honestly—regretfully. “I’ve never gone and I don’t know if it’s my scene.”

The look of disappointment that crosses her face is almost enough for Dex to feign more pain to stay in her office and make it better but ultimately, it isn’t. He’s beginning to like the idea of whatever it is she has in mind of who he is, but he’s not sure he can live up to it. He can’t risk more disappointment. But what he does know is that she’s the person he’s been searching for recently. Someone who does see something in him, even though he doesn’t entirely understand what that may be.

“Okay, Dex,” she sighs in defeat, “but just know I’ll still be looking for you there.”

He smiles as he gets up from the exam table. Their time together is almost up, for now, and the day is almost done. He already can’t wait to see her tomorrow, as annoying as that feeling of hope is.

◎◎◎

That night in bed, after tossing and turning and unable to sleep, he opens his email for the Gala’s RSVP. Dex’s thumb hovers over the “Going” button, and it goes back and forth over the “Can’t Make It.”

But just know I’ll still be looking for you there.

While it’s not a guarantee he will show up to the gala, Dex clicks the “Going” button and sighs in relief, a hopeful feeling growing deep in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he could be that person she thinks he is.

#daredevil #bullseye #wilson bethel #ben poindexter #benjamin poindexter #dex #the good in you #ben poindexter x reader #ben poindexter x you #IM SORRY FOR THE WAIT BUT IT IS HERE

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akijooo · 1 month ago

Text

Don’tCloseMountain

Streamer Don’tCloseMountain thought he’d just gained a generous new subscriber — until the donations turned unsettling, and the sender turned out to be someone he never expected to return.

Mo Guanshan never expected to stream full-time.

Sure, gaming was something he'd always enjoyed, and yelling at strangers online came more naturally than filling out job applications. But if you told him a year ago that losing yet another job — his third that year — would push him to become "DontCloseMountain," a small but steadily growing Twitch streamer, he'd have laughed and gone back to folding uniforms at the dry cleaner.

Yet here he was. Living off noodles, hoarding free samples of everything in the market, and stringing together just enough subscribers and pity donations to barely get by.

His setup was not anything extraordinary: a secondhand monitor with a fading line across the middle, a scuffed gaming headset, and a webcam he always tilted slightly upward to hide the clutter of his apartment.

His audience wasn't huge, but they were loyal — enough to fill his chat box with emojis and inside jokes, especially when he went on his trademark rants mid-game.

"Mountain, you gonna rage-quit again or what?" a user called SpaghettiMom typed during one particularly bad run of Apex.

"Not today, Satan," Guanshan muttered into his mic. "I'm chill."

He wasn't. But he smiled anyway, half sarcastic, half entertained by the chat's roasting. Streaming gave him something close to routine. An escape. And on some nights — when his kill count was high and the chat was buzzing — it almost felt like he was winning at life.

Almost.

The problem was, winning didn't pay rent.

Guanshan was scraping by. His Twitch earnings couldn't cover his electricity bill, let alone rent. He'd applied to a dozen jobs last week and hadn't heard back from any. The weight of it settled between his shoulder blades every time he leaned over his desk. Every night he closed his eyes to sleep, he did math in his head — calculating how many subs it would take to survive, how long until his landlord kicked him out.

Then one night, something unusual happened.

He was mid-stream, halfway through a sleepy late-night streaming when it popped up on screen:

$500 donation from 69tian.

His mouse froze. His heart skipped, too.

"Uh... okay," he said, blinking at the alert like it might disappear. "That's... not a typo?"

The chat blew up.

SpaghettiMom: WHOA user700: Yo who is 69tian?? littlechili: MOUNTAIN YOU SUGAR BABY NOW?? catchaser: LUCKY AF

Guanshan scratched the back of his neck. "Well. Damn. Thanks, uh... '69tian'? That's a... name."

He chuckled awkwardly, trying not to look directly at the name for too long. It was clearly a joke — a reference to something crass and juvenile — and yet there was something about it that made his scalp prickle.

It wasn't just the number or the smirk-inducing username. It was how it appeared. Sudden. Silent. Very weird.

Still, five hundred dollars was five hundred dollars.

That night, he didn't sleep much. He kept checking his Twitch page, refreshing the donation logs just to make sure it wasn't a scam. But it was real. The money processed. Cleared. Landed in his account.

And the next day, he streamed again — not because he wanted to, but because for the first time, it felt like there's something to look forward to.

The next few days, Guanshan kept seeing the name pop up in his donation alerts.

69tian has donated $100. 69tian has gifted 20 subs to chat. 69tian: nice kill, Mountain.

It was the first time the dono sent a chat — a simple message attached to a $200 tip. The message lingered longer than the money in his head.

It was flattering. And eerie.

Guanshan wasn't used to this kind of attention. He wasn't the hot guy with a ring light and a charming smile. His streams weren't polished. He swore too much, his lighting sucked, and sometimes he got too real about his life on air.

But whoever 69tian was... they liked it. Or him. And he may never understood why they do.

And before he knew it, Guanshan was looking forward to seeing the name in chat. He'd start streams with a glance toward his alerts tab, pretending he wasn't hoping for it.

He told himself it was gratitude. Just gratitude.

One late-night steram, Guanshan received a different type of message.

It wasn't public this time. It was a whisper — a private Twitch DM.

69tian: Hope the money helps. I'd like to ask for something in return.

Guanshan stared at it.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He had no idea what to reply.

DontCloseMountain: What kind of something?

There was a pause. A long one.

69tian: Nothing weird. Just say my name out loud in stream sometime.

Guanshan leaned back in his chair.

"What the hell..." he muttered under his breath.

He didn't respond right away. Didn't want to encourage it. But he also... didn't stop streaming. And 69tian didn't stop donating. The requests, when they came, were subtle. Harmless, almost. Compliment the chat. Show your face more. Read a comment in your real voice, not your "streamer" voice.

Harmless.

So why did it feel like hands pressing lightly against the back of his neck every time the name appeared?

It was one of those nights where the silence outside was louder than the sound in his headset.

The game music had long faded into background noise. Guanshan had played through three rounds of Valorant and rage-quit twice. His energy was low, his voice hoarse from shouting at his screen, and the lag in his internet was pissing him off more than usual.

He glanced at his viewer count: 73. Not bad for a Wednesday night. The chat, though, had slowed. People were bored. And so was he.

He yawned into the mic. "Alright, chat, let's switch it up. I'm not in the mood to shoot anymore heads tonight. Let's talk."

Messages rolled in like a tide.

Chevy19: Ayyy chill stream SpaghettiMom: Finally Jianjian: Story time? user700: Ask us stuff too

He leaned into his mic. "Okay. You can ask me anything. Just don't get weird about it."

The chat exploded.

Jianjian: Favorite food? ChickenAss: First kiss? Sheisangry: Are you single? Babygirl: What's your type tho SpaghettiMom: Don'tCloseMountain has a secret gf confirmed?

He rolled his eyes. "Single. And none of your damn business," he muttered with a grin. "Next question."

Then, from a username he recognized immediately:

69tian:Ever been in love?

Guanshan's cursor froze over his stream dashboard. He could've ignored it. Could've laughed it off. But for some reason... he didn't.

He leaned back, stared at the screen, and for a moment, he forgot the 73 people watching. Forgot the notifications. Forgot the spotlight.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean..."

The words stuck, rusty and dry. But they came anyway.

"There was someone," he admitted. "Back in high school."

The chat paused for half a beat — then flooded in again.

SpaghettiMom: OMG story time user700: Tell us more Jianjian:What happened Babygirl: Was it serious??

He let out a breath, almost laughing at himself. "Nah. It wasn't anything. Just... someone."

He kept his voice casual, tried not to let the warmth reach his ears.

"He was one of those people that made everything feel like a dare. Annoying, flirty, impossible to read. He teased me all the time — called me stupid names, tried to get under my skin. And he did. Every damn day. Thought I hated him for a while."

The memory came back stronger than expected — the smirk, the glint in his eyes, the way he said "Don't close Mountain," every time Guanshan snapped at him.

That's where the username came from. He'd typed it out as a joke once. Then it stuck.

"I didn't hate him," he said, quieter now. "I think I was... obsessed. In a dumb, teenage, confusing way. It never went anywhere. He disappeared after graduation. Haven't really heard from him ever since. But he did leave me this PC that I use up to today."

He let that hang in the air. No names. No details.

Just a fragment of something half-dead, buried deep.

The chat buzzed, but he didn't read it right away. His eyes were blurry. And then suddenly,

69tian has donated $1,000.

His heart skipped.

He sat up straighter. "What the hell?"" he muttered, lips dry.

Then came the message attached:

69tian: That was a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it.

He stared at it. For a long time. He couldn't believe his eyes. He thought that this 69tian guy had a lot of money to waste on a low life streamer like him. It was surreal.

Guanshan couldn't shake the feeling for the rest of the night. Something in him shifted — something warm, anxious, a little sick. He ended the stream early, blaming lag, and lay awake in bed with his phone face-down on the pillow beside him.

Why now? Why this?

And how the hell did one viewer — one dono — have this much power over him?

The next day, curiosity won.

He messaged them.

DontCloseMountain: Hey. Who are you?

No response for a minute. Then:

69tian: 69tian. But you can call me whatever you want.

Guanshan scowled at the response. The way he messages really remind him of a certain someone. Someone that still kind of lives in the back of Guanshan's mind.

DontCloseMountain: Seriously. What do you want from me? You've been donating tons to me. I am thankful but I think it's too much. 69tian:I just want To hear and watch you. That's all.

Another message popped up before he could react.

69tian: Here's a number. Burner phone. Call me.

Guanshan stared at the digits on screen. Something in his gut twisted. He tapped the number into his phone. It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Click.

Silence.

"...Hello?" he asked, cautious.

There was no answer. Just soft static.

Then his phone buzzed.

Text from Unknown: Just keep speaking. I like your voice.

It was the weirdest call of his life. He hung up after five minutes. Blocked the number. Tried to shake it off.

But he didn't stop streaming.

And 69tian didn't stop donating.

One night, Guanshan was editing clips in the dim glow of his dual monitors, the only light in his apartment coming from the flickering screen and the dull hum of the city outside. His headphones hung loosely around his neck, faint echoes of audio edits playing softly as he trimmed timelines and tweaked cuts.

Then the screen flickered.

Just for a second.

A brief distortion—almost like static—ran across both monitors. He paused, brows knitting together.

Then it flickered again. Longer. Sharper.

He frowned and instinctively reached for his mouse. Nothing moved. The cursor was frozen dead center.

His stomach sank.

And then — the camera light turned on.

A sharp, green dot in the dark.

Click.

"What the fuck?" Guanshan muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He stared at the light, confusion mixing rapidly with dread. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but nothing responded. Not escape. Not Ctrl+Alt+Del. Nothing.

Suddenly, a window bloomed open on his screen.

Discord.

His Discord.

He hadn't opened it.

He hadn't touched a thing.

The app loaded itself sluggishly, almost like it was dragging something with it from the bottom of the digital abyss. And then a call launched — video.

The caller ID: 69t_backup

Guanshan's heart dropped into his stomach. His breath caught in his throat.

69t? 69tian?

No. Impossible.

And yet — there it was.

The call connected.

And the screen lit up.

Not with an icon. With an empty camera feed.

“What the actual fuck?” Guanshan whispered, his voice trembling.

No response.

Until the screen behind the video call flickered again, revealing something layered beneath the Discord window.

Photos. Screen grabs.

Of Guanshan.

From tonight.

From seconds ago.

Him editing. Him frowning. Him confused.

The final one — him staring in horror at the screen.

Guanshan’s blood turned to ice.

He didn’t hesitate — he lunged toward the plug and yanked it out from the wall with every ounce of force he had.

The monitors went black. The fan in the CPU clicked to a halt.

But then behind him, he heard a soft chime.

Bing.

From his phone.

Still lit. A message notification from a number he didn’t recognize.

Unknown number: You shouldn’t have done that, Mo Guanshan.

For the next two days, Guanshan didn't stream. Didn't even open his PC. He would sleep with one eye open if he could.

He turned off every notification, unplugged his webcam, and stuffed it in a drawer like it had teeth. He refused to touch Discord. Every time his phone buzzed with a burner number, he ignored it — until the same number texted.

Unknown number: You still drink black coffee with two sugars. Unknown number: Meet me at Wanhua Café. 9PM. I'll be at the back."

No name. No push. Just that.

Guanshan stared at it for a full minute. He had enough of this 69Tian. No amount of donations could compare to the horror he felt that night - and today, he planned to put an end to it. He brought a pocket knife with him and grabbed his coat.

Guanshan’s pulse thudded in his ears as he stepped out of the café, scanning the empty street. The night air bit into his skin, neon signs flickering dimly above the cracked pavement. His hand tightened around the knife. Each step toward the alley made his heart pound harder.

That message from the unknown number — it kept echoing in his head. He had to end this. Whatever this was.

A shuffle behind him made him spin around, blade raised.

A figure stepped out of the shadows — tall, familiar, annoyingly casual. His face was half-hidden, but Guanshan recognized that presence instantly. His chest clenched.

“Stay back. I’ve got a knife!” he warned.

The figure didn’t move.

“I said, stay the hell back.” His grip tightened.

But in one fluid motion, the man stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. The knife fell from Guanshan’s hand like it was nothing.

“Long time no see, Don’t Close Mountain,” the voice drawled.

Guanshan froze. The neon above flickered, finally revealing the bastard’s face — He Tian.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Guanshan growled, yanking his arm back. “You’re the one behind this crap? You’ve been messing with me for weeks?”

He Tian smirked, cocky as ever. “I like to think of it as… watching over you.”

“I ought to stab you with your own damn ego,” Guanshan snapped. “You think this is funny? You scared the hell out of me! You think showing up like some cryptic stalker erases whatever nightmares you planted in my head?!”

He Tian shrugged, the smirk faltering just a bit. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Guanshan muttered.

There was a pause. He Tian looked away for a second, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know how to come back. I didn’t know if I could. So I just… kept my distance. Donated to your stream here and there. It was the only way I could still see you without... crossing a line.”

“Oh, and this isn’t crossing the line?” Guanshan scoffed, gesturing wildly between himself and He Tian with the knife.

He Tian winced. “Okay, fair. But when you started talking about that love story on stream…” He exhaled. “I got greedy. I saw the opening from there. I wanted back in.”

Guanshan stared, chest tight. “You could’ve just messaged me, you moron.”

“I thought you’d ignore me,” He Tian admitted, voice quieter now. “It’s been a long time. You’ve always been good at shutting people out.”

Guanshan narrowed his eyes. “Okay, then riddle me this — how the hell did you get into my PC?”

He Tian blinked. “...Borrowed access?”

“Borrowed?!” Guanshan’s voice shot up. “You went through my personal files and you’re calling it borrowing?!”

“I didn’t snoop too much,” He Tian said quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I just wanted to see if… if I was still in there somewhere.”

“And?”

“Well…” He Tian gave a crooked smile. “You kept a folder. With my pictures. Cute ones, too.”

Guanshan’s face burned. “I don’t—! That’s—! I—God, you’re the worst.”

“I know.” He Tian stepped forward, a little softer this time. “But I’m sorry. For everything. I just... I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

Guanshan stared at him, every part of him tense. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

He Tian grinned. “But I’m your pain in the ass.”

Guanshan raised an eyebrow, trying not to let his lips twitch. “You really have no shame.”

“Zero.” He Tian leaned in, brushing their fingers together. “Can I start over?”

Guanshan looked down at their hands, then back at him. “You pull this shit again, and I will make sure you regret it.”

He Tian smiled. “Deal.”

#he tian #tianshan #mo guan shan #19days #fanfiction #oneshot

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bettsfic · 3 months ago

Text

some of you may have noticed that i haven't posted a newsletter in a million years. there are many reasons for this and they're nearly all good ones, including making a lot of progress on a novel, exercising and eating well, organizing all my worldly possessions, and watching Succession.

aaaand i've been on the fence about something i've finally made a decision about:

after many, many years of hesitation, i've decided to create a paid publication.

this is separate from my main newsletter in part because 1) i may post more frequently, and 2) it's not the kind of content that i think people signed up for in my main newsletter.

you can think of it as

my lowkey writing-related newsletter: me as a coach/teacher/editor

my unhinged morning pages: me as a writer

over the years, a lot of people have asked for a way to support my writing and suggested that i get a Patreon. Patreon has never sat right with me though. Substack has many, many problems but after much research, i haven't found a suitable alternative that i'm ready to pull the trigger on. it takes a lot to move platforms, and one day i will, but that day is not today.

Unhinged Morning Pages (or "ump" as i've been calling it, because i love my ridiculous acronyms) is a grand experiment in posting my writing logs, original fiction, and personal essays that don't belong anywhere else.

my main newsletter is a far cry from what it started as, and i have more subscribers than i ever anticipated. the lkwrnl won't change at all; i'll still post monthly-ish craft essays along with news and announcements, and writing advice round-ups when applicable. it will remain free to read.

but now i have a sidestack that you can subscribe to for $7 a month (or $70 a year) where you'll get alllll the other stuff i don't post elsewhere and that i'd like to keep to a smaller audience and behind a paywall. although you can subscribe for free, i don't intend to post free content there.

those who sign up for a paid subscription can read the first chapter of the novel that has taken over my life, Heavy for Hire, about a shitty criminal who kidnaps a girl, lets her go, and then 8 years later becomes her bodyguard.

i posted this to lend some context to my writing log which i'll begin sharing next week, hopefully Monday. (ideally i'd like to post on Mondays. maybe not every Monday but i do have a lot of content to share.)

tomorrow i'll be publishing a regular newsletter (on my lkwrnl) about things i've learned after 5 years as a writing coach. plus OFIC Mag issue #11 drops! april is a very big month and i'm excited to join the world again after months as a hermit.

#ump #lkwrnl #h4h

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math-journal2 · 11 months ago

Text

<— x —>

Unit 10: Part 4

Application Problems

*each pic own problem

Exponents

Investment exponent problem

Increase of 1.35% interest per year

f(x) = a(1.0135)^x

Or a(1 + 0.0135)^x

Compound Interest

Always simplify the (1 + r/n) part

Will lose credit otherwise if equation is an answer

Exponent Normal

Exponent e^x

-Half Life

Newton’s Cucking Law of Cooling

Be very aggressive in labelling

It may look like this..

Or it may decide it wants to stab you and look like this

Key:

Determine known variables

Whatever is left is unknown

Unlike with Decibel and Richter test, you don’t need to keep 2 different equations in your head.

Think: PROCESS OF ELIMINATION

LOGS

Richter and Decibel (Lv2)

Richter Scale

2 things in mind

It’s a hot mess.

Remain calm, it’s like any other new equation. This takes time to sort out. Then you’re like AHA!

Note: 10^-4 on bottom

Variables set up:

Example 1: know mag, want strength ratio

m (sub 1) = magnitude of ocean

m (sub 2) = magnitude of city

I (sub 1) = intensity of ocean ??

I (sub 2) = intensity of city ???

Strengh ratio = ???

Equation: Richter scale and..

ratio of strength =

I (sub 1) / I (sub 2)

Strategy:

Want: strength ratio

Problem: no intensity #’s

Solution: solve for intensity

Later: solve for strength ratio

Example 2: know 1 mag + strength ratio, want other mag

m (sub 1) = magnitude of ocean ???

m (sub 2) = magnitude of city

I (sub 1) intensity of ocean ???

I (sub 2) intensity of city ???

strength ratio = #

Equations used: same + …

I (sub 2) = I (sub 1) * strength ratio

Then solve for m (sub 2) with that

Aka. Solve for easy stuff the work up

Solve for magnitude

Decibel

Example 1: 2 diff decibels, want ratio of intensity

B (sub 1) = sound of drill

B (sub 2) = sound of whisper

I (sub 1) = intensity of drill ??

I (sub 2) = intensity of whisper ??

Strength ratio = ???

Equation: normal one

Strength ratio = B[1] / B [2]

Strategy: Similar to richter scale

Think: what do I want

Then: what’s in my way

Last: how do I get past it

These are multi part problems that look overwelhming at first seeing all the missing variables. The key is solve what’s easy, then try the tricky stuff. Sometimes you can bs your way through these problems.

Note: 10^-12 is good for helping you find the intensity.

Note: solve what variables you can before popping in numbers.

Page 31

#precalc #pc1u6 #logs #exponent #solving exponents #solving logs #application problem #richter scale #newton’s law of cooling #decibel #continuous growth #compound interest

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math-journal · 1 year ago

Text

Log Application Problems

#algebra 2 #logarithms #log application problems #A2U3

0 notes

dirtyoldman-stories · 5 months ago

Text

IT guys are the Worst

"Working late? A voice calls from your office door?" Looking up you see the IT guy standing and smiling, "Heard you were having some computer issues, think I know the problem, have a moment?"

Uhh yea you respond and beging to step away from your computer. "No, no you drive" Just click the windows and the R button and type cmd You do and a blick box appears on your desktop. I hand you a sheeet of paper and say "Type this in, I would do it, but its a small command and it needs you to log in, sooo.. " You grab the paper and start typing, "why is the date from two weeks ago?" you ask "Oh nice catch most people dont notice that, we are backdating the application to review application imput starting that date." You see me smiling as what I said flew right over your head, and finish the command, and hit enter. Sure enough it prompts for your password and then the computer starts doing something as a blue bar starts filling from the left to the right. hearing an noise you look over at me feeding your shredded the paper I handed you,"Wha…" you start to ask before your computer beeps.

press button to being you read the message out loud, I say press the button glancing over you see me closing you door.

What the fuc… you mutter as tumblr launches on your desktop… you start pressing keys, any key to stop

Whats happen… and suddenly you realize it your tumblr feed as several of your favorite posts, chats, videos all start filling the screen.

I step around behind you. Oh my… You realize porn is not allowed on company computers, why, you will probably lose your job when I report this.

But you sputter, I never installed this on my computer, its just on my phone..

Having you stand I push the chair out of the way and use the keyboard and mouse I pull up a screen and point to installed date with your name next to it, you installed this two weeks ago.. I step back and you lean in to look closer and notice its the same date you used from the paper. "You did this you with that command I typed in!" and start trying to close windows

"What did you do!" angrly Just making your day, I repond quietly, and slide my hands around you to grop your tits. Your frozen, unsure what to do "Wha…" you sputter "I don…."

"Shhhh quiet kitten" I wisper in your ear. You installed that with my little command, but all the computer records will show it was installed two weeks ago. I was on vacation two weeks ago and never logged into the network.. No one will believe you."

You sputter and threaten to scream.. "Go ahead I respond, only you and me in the building, I made sure before I came by." and I pinch a nipple.. "Relax kitten, let it happen…keep your job, I can make it all go away, but only if you are a good girl." One hand reaches up to the keyboard and presses a key

A video you have enjoyed a lot is ready to play. One where a man fucks his secretary on her desk at work. "Your favorite video I believe" "how do you?"…. A press another button and another video is ready to play. As I findly your tits you feel a hard cock rub against your ass. "Be a good girl and press enter…"

The screen has two videos ready to play, your favorite and another with your face on it, laying in your bed. "I hijacked your phone a while back, and took this vidoe of you last night while you watched this porn. IT guys are the worst" I laugh "You are so lovely when you play with yourself, as you can see. Such a pretty little slut" I wonder what would happen if this was suddenly sent on accident as a live feed from your phone some random night.

My hands are still rubbing your now hard nipples. "Now, press enter and lets have some fun" and I grope both tits then play with your hard nipples.

your hand moves and the videos play.

The videos starts slow, whith the boss and secretary small talk, but right at this point he reached around and unbutton her pants. The imag eof you on the screen is licking her lips in anticipation "Don't fight it the boss wispers, you want a job tomorrow right" you realize I am whispering the dialog in your ear as well

You can see this is when you start touching yourself.

Be a good girl we say in unision and the pants slide down to the floor. "Look at the camera" the boss in the video telling her to look at her laptop camera to records the whole thing, I grab your hair and pull forcing your face to look up into your computer camera as you see the record red light another pop up and your face on the screen in real time. " I thought I would record this for my enjoyment later."

The screen has your face live, a recording of you masterbating to this video from last night and the video from Tumblr all at the same time.

As the boss drops his pants, you feel mine drop and my hard cock sliding along your ass "What a beautyful slut you are , getting fucked on your desk at work." the audio from the computer and my voice" Last night you have a wave of pleasure her as you head tilts back and eyse start to close.

In the video the boss slides his fingers into her cunt "Look how sloppy wet you are" we both say as my fingers slide into your cunt. You moan almost in unision with the secretary and the video of you last night.

"Must be your favorite moment" I say nearly laught an slide my cock inside you as the secratary starts to be fucked as well.

I match the video stroke for stroke and mimick the bosses lines as well, Every good girl You see your self today, matching the pleasure of last night. every condensinding comment You remember you were clos to cuming last night and you slowed you pace here, even when the boss accidently slips out and then slides back in, is copied. You are being fucked exaactly like your favorite video.

The boss and I ask "Are you glad you worked late?" and you find yourself responding in time with the video "yes sir" "What a good girl, so glad I hired you" wispered in your ear intime with the video.

The two videos show your face, obviously flushed and ready to orgasm. I start fucking harder pulling you hair and forcing you to face the videos.

You see yourself starting to climax in last nights video from last night and feel yourself going over the edge now. A couple more hard thrust from me and feel me filling you as I moan "Baby girl, I am cumming inside you" the feeliing of me throbbing inside pushes you off the edge and you cum hard as well.

I pull up your chair and let you sit, my cum dripping from your soaked cunt a couple of keystrokes and all the tumbler and videos dissapear.

As I pull up my pants, and start to open your door, I turn back "I'll be working late again next tuesday." I say smiling "should be an empty building. I will be up to inspect your computer again, its to bad that tumbler hasnt been cleaned off it so please wear something sexy." as I walk out the door.

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

Note

What would you think of maybe Thrawn x Reader on a camping trip to somewhere scenic and isolated? Maybe on vacation, away from the stresses of work? I'm definitely imagining Thrawn shirtless and chopping firewood, for some eye candy. Maybe like, half fluff/half spicy?

🥺 pretty please?

(my love as a gift, regardless of if you write this!)

Of course, anything for you my sweet ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

ThrawnxF!reader

Tags: Winter vacation, fluff, fingering

“Ch’acah, we have arrived.” Thrawn pats your thigh to wake you up.

You rise up in a jolt, still half asleep. You were so comfortable pressed against Thrawn's back, holding him tight on the speeder, his body's higher warmth still spreading to you past the thick leather jacket he wears.

You rub your eyes and wipe a bit of drool off your mouth and discover a wooden cabin under a thick layer of snow. Thrawn already jumped off the bike to get the luggages as you hug yourself to shield yourself from the biting cold. He was so warm…

“You are shivering, Vir. Let’s get inside.” He invites gallantly.

You jump on the ground, leafing through the bunch of keys you have. You haven't come here in decades, you almost forgot your grand aunt bought that cabin in the middle of nowhere.

You would have come in summer under a blazing sun but you saw how Thrawn's eyes were shining when you told him everything froze in winter in the region. You hoped for a resort near a beach for those vacation, but seeing him getting excited by the prospect of living through a cold climate for some weeks made you cave in, for your Chiss…

As much as Thrawn shows excitement of course, which is always in moderation.

But enduring the cold and wind is worth it if Thrawn gets something reminding him of his homeworlds.

You enter the key in the door and push the heavy block of wood to enter the modest abode. It is completely dark and cold. You search for a lightswitch on the wall until you find it and flip it.

Nothing.

You flip it again.

Still dark.

“We may have an electricity problem.” You annonce.

Thrawn puts the luggages down in the largest room, consisting of a kitchenette, a sofa, a double bed and a fireplace.

Real small cabin, you see.

You mingle with a heater mounted on the wall, to no avail.

“Let’s start the chimney.” Thrawn says. “Let’s get some light and warmth.”

You go around the cabin in search of the wood reserve, finding the ax in the meantime. You find back Thrawn securing the bike in the nightfall against a tree. You don’t know who would come lost themself in this forest to steal a speeder bike, but security first you suppose.

“No cutted logs, but I found the ax.”

He nods, standing up. He is only wearing his leather jacket while you're wrapped in the puffiest winter coat you ever saw, a heavy lana scarf and some gloves.

“I will see the wood, go collect some ice.” He instructs

“Why?” you tilt your head, blowing hot air on your hands.

“For the bath.” He says with a thin smile.

You take a hammer from the top case and a very large bucket. You wave at Thrawn as you go, looking at him chopping wood with application and venture a little bit deeper in the forest. If your memory serves you right there must be a lake not too far away…

You break the ice with the hammer and collect enough to fill the bucket. It is a really, really large bucket and it gets really, really heavy. You have all the pain in the world carrying it back to the cabin, especially with this hindering coat. You take double the time it took you to reach the lake to come back.

But you’re not disappointed, far from it.

Because when you finally reach the cabin, you raise your eyes from the heavy bucket to discover Thrawn, still cutting logs, bare chested and muscles glistening with a thin layer of sweat shining under the rising stars.

You are so surprised and enthralled you stop dead in your tracks, completely hypnotized by that scene. You cannot help but admire his form, his powerful muscles flexing so wonderfully under the new moonlight.

You remained silent, eyes wide open, arms holding on desperately on the heavy bucket that started trembling in your hands. He catches a glimpse of you mid swift, sliding a log in too with such force and power the two parts fly on the side. He lays down the ax to turn to you, gasping for air, his breath forming steamy clouds at his mouth. You see his large chest rising up and down rapidly and you imagine his heart beat racing in his rib cage.

You close your agape mouth with a gulp, shaking your head back to reality.

“I found ice.” You inform gingerly, trying to keep your eyes to his ember eyes and not his mouth watering chest and abdominals.

Maker… He is such an athlete! He has been carved by the gods in pure marble!

“Good.” He nods, already getting back his breath under control, “Put it in the chimney, we are going to melt it for the bath.”

You greet your teeth as you carry the bucket inside. Right behind you Thrawn gathered the wood he cut and places them in the fireplace. He starts the fire as you get rid of your heavy coat. You take one of the furry plaid and lay it on his naked shoulders, he raises his head to meet your gaze, a silent ‘thank you’ in his eyes.

“You’re going to catch a cold in this outfit.” You smile gently.

You just see a drop of sweat rolling from his pac to roll on his muscular stomach, making you gulp again. He doesn’t close the plaid over him, only holding the sides with the tip of his fingers, letting you appreciate his whole carved bust as he rises back on his feet. The red and yellow flames bounce beautifully on his deep blue skin, creating delightful tones and shades dancing on his skin. You breathe deeply through your nose, trying your best not to drool at that sight.

He turns his head to you, completely lost in your admiration of his body, and smiles thinly before booping the tip of your nose with his knuckle. You wince and wrinkle your nose in reaction, almost sneezing.

“I think we still have some hot cocoa in the thermos. You are shivering, Ch’acah.”

He invites you to sit on the sofa in front of the burning fire and brings the two cups and the thermos bottle, pouring you a cup of the fuming drink. As you blow on the steaming cup in your hand he sits beside you, throwing the side of the plaid over your own shoulders. You smile and snuggle against his warmer body with a sigh of contentment.

“I know you wished to go to the beach for those vacations.” Thrawn says after a very long moment of comfortable silence, “I am sorry, Ch’acah.”

You kiss his shoulder before laying your head on it.

“No need Thrawn. I saw how happy and interested you were in this location.”

“And I am thankful to you for accepting.” He brushes his cheek against the top of your head.

“If you are happy, it is good enough for me.” You assure, sighing contented as you finally started to warm up.

“We will go to that resort you saw, cheo vir, I promise you.”

“And we could come back here each winter, if you wish!” You propose.

“Thank you, love.” He kisses your hair tenderly.

You press yourself against his warm body, feeling his arm circling your shoulders, pressing you tighter against himself. You deeply inhale the natural musk of your Chiss with glee, letting it invade your lungs with great pleasure.

He is so, so warm…

And smells so, so good.

His thumb comes caressing the plump of your cheek softly.

“I love you, Thrawn.” You let escape in the softness and intimacy of the moment.

“I love you too, Ch’acah.” He responds with a melodious tone.

You sip your cups, letting the heavy and thick chunks of ice slowly melt in the bucket over the fire. He keeps caressing your cheek with his thumb, softly, lightly, tenderly…

You hear him purring lowly, feeling the waves through the skin of your cheek. You close your eyes, comfortable and relaxed.

“Do you like it here?” You ask.

“It is quite rudimentary, but yes. It brings back some soft memories.” He admits.

“Good, that’s what I wanted for you.” you press your cheek on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ch’acah. You take such good care of me.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes. His so beautiful crimson eyes.

“Because you do it too…” You whisper.

His fingers travel from your cheek to your chin, tilting it to give him a better access to your lips. He leans forward and captures them delicately, pressing sweet kisses on your lips, purring deeply at the sensual contact. In place of purring you moan for his ears, mewling alluringly for his pleasure.

He parts from you with a satisfied sigh, looking into your eyes. His face is stern and unreadable but his eyes are spilling love and adoration. He gently puts a strand of your hair behind your ear before taking your cheek in his palm. You mewl and snuggle against his warm palm.

“I could drown in your eyes.” He murmurs with his deep baritone voice.

“Your eyes set fire to my soul.” You respond.

He kisses your forehead lovingly.

“We should take the water off the fire before it boils.” He simply says, leaving your embrace.

He lets the plaid fall off his large shoulders like a cap in a regal movement, letting you admire his magnificently sculpted back and well defined shoulder blades. You feel your throat drying at that simple sight.

“Will it be sufficient?” You ask tilting your head.

“It is plenty.”

You hardly see how it is enough to fill a bathtub…

He seizes the heavy bucket, flexing his powerful biceps just for you and easily carry it to the ridiculously small bathroom.

This room is hilariously small.

There is no bathtub, not even a shower. There is only a larger than usual metallic barrel next to a crude, but serviceable toilet. Thrawn easily lift the bucket and pour the fuming water in the barrel, filling it up.

“Oh this is really, really rudimentary.” You concede.

“We will be a bit squeezed in here, but it will be quite… pleasant.” He turns to you.

Your gaze travel between the barrel to Thrawn, eyes round.

“You want us to take our bath together, in… this?”

“Will it be a problem?” He asks, opening his pants.

You purse your lips.

You hardly see how Thrawn could squeeze his large and tall body in this barrel, so your two bodies at the same time…

“Hum…”

“I thought it would be agreeable to bathe together, in each other's arms.” He presents his argument.

“I mean…” You hesitate.

You turn back to him to see him naked in all his glory and immediately avert your eyes, suddenly shy.

Which is quite weird, you've been seen naked more than once. And you always loved it, a lot!

You feel him come to press his naked form against your body, gently opening the buttons of your thick lana cardigan.

“Come bath with me, Ch’acah.” He whispers in your ear, making you shudder instantly.

You gulp, feeling your body temperature skyrocketing by the second. He pulls the cardigan off your shoulders gently, nibbling at your ear. You gasp at the touch of his breath on the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine and pussy. You bite your lips and take your shirt off while he unbutton your pants before pulling them down, letting you in your bra and tights. You fill his warm hands snaking their way back up your legs, caressing and squeezing the flesh as they rise.

This is not an alluring stocking but lana tights with extravagant colors and patterns as they tend to be. You hear a low chuckle behind you.

“I am sorry, you may have hoped for a thin shaded stocking.” You mumble. “I am sorry.”

“Not at all, Ch’acah. I know you cannot endure cold climates as well as I. These eccentric patterns and colors are also pleasant to see.”

“I was so cold on the ship.” You admit. “I needed a new layer.”

“I will make sure you remain warm during our stay.” He says lowly, darkly, seductively…

You feel his lips on your lower back brushing the thin sensitive skin like a butterfly, making you shiver again. He stands back to his full height and opens your bra expertly, with a snap of the hooks and his warm hands come forth and grabs your tits delicately. You breathe through your nose, mouth agape as he gently kneads the round mounds of flesh, before making your nipples roll between his master fingers, tugging on them softly.

“I love unclothing you.” He whispers again, “I know really well what I will found, but it is like I am rediscovering our body each time, like a new first time.” and he bites down your ear.

You yelp, to his pleasure.

“Come in with me, sweet thing.” He kisses your shoulder and leave you to enter the barrel.

Somehow, someway he does enter the barrel entirely, sitting down in the warm water, his legs wide apart to leave you space. He extends his hand to you invitingly.

You get rid off your tights and panties quickly and enter the fuming, hot water. Miraculously you manage to both fit in the barrel, squeezed against the other, but surprisingly comfortable nonetheless. Your back is pressed against his chest as you sit between his legs.

“How is it?” He asks.

“Hot.”

“Too hot?” He worries.

‘Against a body such as yours? It is scorching hot’ you think.

“It is agreeable.” You correct, getting comfortable against his chest.

You sigh of comfort, slowly relaxing in the fuming water.

“See? We could fit without any difficulties.”

“I wouldn’t have bet on it!” You retort.

He kisses the top of your head, pecking your hair, hugging your body tightly in his arms. He crosses his legs before yours, imprisoning you between his embrace completely.

“Lay on me, Ch’acah, I am warmer.” He invites.

You let your head fall back on his shoulder with a moan. One of his hands starts drawing circles on your arm while the other one sneakily traces its way on your stomach and goes south. He keep kissing your ear and temples as his hand keeps going until it scoops your sex in his palm. Air gets stuck in your throat as you feel him dressing down your cunt with his large hand. One single finger curls up, trailing your slit until it flicks your clit at the top. You immediately jolt back, and in doing so compress his cock between your two bodies. He hisses in return in pain and pleasure.

“I’m sorry!” You immediately present your excuses.

“Do.not.move.an.inch.” He orders. “Remain here.”

“O-Ok…”

He trails your slit once again, before going at it seriously, pushing past your folds and massaging your entrance with the pad of his finger.

“You are already gaping, I can feel you pulsing against my finger.” He notes satisfied.

“You are teasing me, of course I am going to react!” You defend yourself.

He adds a second finger at the circles he traces around your entrance, applying sweet pressures here and there, titillating your cunny from time to time. His fingers rise to your pearl and knead it thoroughly, adding pressure, making it roll, flicking it repeatedly. Your legs start trembling and you try to close them, but it only imprison his hand in place.

He licks your ear with his warm, wet tongue and a guttural growl. His second hand leaves your arm to caress and grope your breast, kneading it lovingly, weighting them in his hand, appreciating their roundness and fullness with a hum of approval.

His fingers go back south and one enters you, gently, letting your entrance time to embrace the girth of his digit. He pushes it further, knuckles deep and immediately grazes at your gummy spot, caressing it and crossing it without missing a beat.

You can feel all your south muscles contracting at the shockwaves of pleasure currently spreading in your body, squeezing his finger inside.

“That is the kind of reaction I enjoy…” He says amused and pleased.

To prove his point a second finger enters you deeply, stretching you wide open. His fingers are like his hands: large and long, and a trial to take in, but they give you so much pleasure they are worth any struggle. He spreads his fingers wide to stretch you more and more until your cunny muscles are at their maximum. Shuddering terribly, you hold on his arms for support.

“Can you take a third one, Cheo vir? For me…” He purrs deeply, enjoying himself tremendously.

Mouth agape, gasping, only a strangled moan escape you as an answer. He kisses your cheek and decide for you.

“Yes you can, sweet thing.”

And he pushes the third in. This time you are at your maximum. You are fully stuffed and feel your pussy compressing his three fingers tight, threatening to cut the blood flow in them.

“I love how your tight pussy always struggles to take what I offer you. Even fingers are too much… Somedays I wonder how you can take my cock in your sweet little cunt. But you always do. To my utmost pleasure.” He praises, licking your neck all the way up. “You are so good for me, Ch’acah, always pushing your limits to please me.”

He thoroughly massages your pussy as he speaks, caressing and stroking any hidden spots inside your pussy, sending powerful waves of pleasure in your core.

“I am so stuffed!” You manage to let out in a gasp.

“Are you?” He muses, “Already?” And he pushes his finger deeper until their whole length is inside.

You pant terribly, digging your nails in his arms. You are so stretched! So full! So filled! You cannot take anything more, it is impossible, you would explode in a million pieces!

“You are strangling my fingers so much, sweet thing.” He breathes lowly, “This is so… delectable.” You feel his hips moving behind you, his big, lengthy cock brushing your lower back from side to side, getting as much friction as he can.

He circles your G spot, scratching the itch and resumes the flicking of your clit, he is not one to neglect such an important aspect of womanly pleasure, quite the contrary.

You moan and mewl uncontrollably under his caress as he deep massage your pussy while licking and kissing your neck and shoulder.

“Maker!” You cry out.

You feel your pussy clenching and convulsing furiously around his large fingers while your nervous clit pulsates powerfully.

“Come for me, Ch’acah. Come hard for me...” He whispers seductively in your ear.

You come in a jolt, the pleasure suddenly exploding in your sex like fireworks forcing you to curl over yourself, but Thrawn holds you down with his mighty arm. Your eyes roll inside your skull and your toes curl deliciously as the fire spreads in your veins slowly to your nerves ending.

You tremble, but not of cold, but of pure, raw shock. The aftermath of your climax slowly subsiding, you relax bit by bit, relaxing easily in his arms with a sigh, slouching in his embrace.

“Thank you, Cheo vir.” Thrawn praises you, “You came hard and good. Just as I wanted.” He kisses your cheek again, purring loudly, so much you feel vibrations in your back.

As much as a hard, long warm shaft in your back…

Oh.

Oh…

He rolls his hips again, brushing his erection against your back gently with a hum. You slide your hand between your two bodies to stroke and caress him but he stops you.

“No. Leave it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask nicely. “You made me cum, I should reciprocate.”

“Not now.” He decides, pressing you tighter against him, “It is so nervous and sensitive like that, it is really pleasant.” He moves his hips back and forth gently, “I quite like it. Let me appreciate it a bit longer…”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay, @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn smut #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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vintageandroid · 17 days ago

Text

VintageAndroid fanfic full list

All my fanfic is, of course, on my AO3 as well. Please mind my tags & content warnings on AO3. I always update new chapters and babble about current/upcoming projects here under the tag #my fanfiction if you're interested, and I'm going to start doing specialty tags for ongoing fanfic updates.

I always welcome comments, questions, asks, whatever, here or on AO3 as applicable! (I would also welcome fanart but so far it hasn't come up lol.)

General Notes

Most of my fanfic is canon/oc or canon/reader fic, because I think it's fun. Most if not all of my OCs are over 30 and they are often AFAB nonbinary or GNC women. (My implied readers are often gender-neutral and non-specific in age as well.) There are lots of 20-something femme OCs, so if that's what you're looking for, I know you can find it! No problem with it being out there! But I don't feel moved to write any thus far. I'm writing for other horny older bitches.

Some of my fanfic does deal with dark themes or situations. I also love kinky stuff (including D/s, impact play, rough sex), and relationships that are probably not super healthy but are fun in a fictional narrative. If any of these things don't appeal to you, I encourage you to not read my stories.

I write for myself first and foremost, appealing to me and sometimes to my partner. I am self-indulgent, I am cringe, and I am having a blast.

(Speaking of, @inkstars1138 is not only my partner but also my beta-reader and loudest cheerleader. They also write fanfic so go check them out!)

I do not do requests but I do happily brainstorm with people and sometimes come out with more ideas than I want. As you do.

Ghost Band

On the Edge of the Knife

Primo/OC; 35 chapters (eventually); explicit

Father Primo Emeritus, having faked his death for the Ghost project, has spent the past several years as the head of a tiny Satanic church in a crumbling small town. A former resident of that town approaches him with an offer: human sacrifice to try to fix a few things in the world. As a bonus, with such a sacrifice, he could ask Satan to make his own world a little less lonely in his last few years.

Primo doesn't have any problem with human sacrifice. But as he coaches Eden towards the ritual, he does find himself reluctant for other reasons. But there are many ways to take a life...

Sacrifice-to-lovers (let's make this a thing Ghost fandom) involving slightly dubiously consensual D/s, kinky sex, a risotto-cooking ghoul, family of origin versus family of choice, and how no matter where you go you can't escape yourself—but sometimes, if you're lucky, you can find someone to love you exactly where you are. Ongoing!

Your Love, Bright as the Starlight

Copia/OC & V/OC; 35 chapters; explicit

Ministry tradition entitles the current touring Papa to a volunteer Sibling of Sin to relieve all that erotic energy after any ritual, with one major rule: no attachments from either side. Smut, forbidden relationships, healing, occasional ghoul shenanigans, intrigue, and two brothers trying to figure out how to be brothers...maybe. Complete.

Recovered Text Log

Copia/OC or reader; one shot; explicit-ish

While Frater Imperator is away to help with the tour, he and an unnamed partner attempt to sext. Exactly nothing goes to plan. Was written as a spin-off of Your Love but can stand on its own. Complete.

Papas' Favorite Toys (To Use On You)

various Papas/reader; 2 chapters; explicit

A list of headcanon thoughts on each papas' favorite sex toys to use with a partner. Chapter 1 consists of vanilla sex toy headcanons; Chapter 2 is dedicated to kink toys. Complete.

Dom!Copia Headcanons

Copia/reader; explicit-ish

Headcanons about how our nerdy awkward dork of a Copia can still successfully be a spectacular dom if you want.

X-Files

Stress Relief

Fox Mulder/reader; one shot; explicit

Your boyfriend Fox Mulder works too hard. Maybe you can help him with that. (Shameless blowjob fic.) Complete.

Your Boyfriend, Fox Mulder

Fox Mulder/reader; PG13 at most

A list of headcanons about dating Fox Mulder. Complete.

Batman

Echolocation

Bruce Wayne/OC; 26 chapters; explicit

Batman is just trying to put a corrupt businessman back in jail, but he's struggling to find the connection he knows exists between the new synthesized street drug and the businessman in question. His search for answers unveils a lot more than he expected. Like the reluctant psychic they've kept locked away…who knows a lot more than she's telling her keepers. Complex plot, romance, smut, angst with a happy ending. Complete.

No Interview Skills

gen; one-shot; all audiences

Gotham City's poor job market leads people to becoming masked supervillains, more often than should probably be the case. But sometimes, people can do better, if they're very lucky. Unnamed and ungendered POV character. (lol no one has read this one but I'm still really proud of it.)

Gotham City Resident Problems

gen; one-shot; all audiences

Headcanons list with a bit of a reader perspective of how much it probably sucks to live in Gotham as an ordinary citizen.

#oh god this took forever #my fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist

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