#this request seems automated

[struggler2dark]

"In order to protect our users from spam, we've decided to make your account completely fucking useless. Enjoy being only able to rt, dumbass. now please give me $8.00"

[gardenwons]

LET ME IN, PLEASE🥛

SYNOPSIS As the new doorman for the shabby apartment complex, you learn quickly to recognize imposters until eventually a cunning doppelganger entered the building—also making its way in you.

PAIRINGS: doppelganger!jungwon x doorman!reader

WARNINGS: smut with plot, dom!jungwon, making out, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praising, blood, lowkey mean won(?)

A/N: loosely based on "that's not my neighbor," was vv in love w/ the milkman pls he's a sweet boy and it was supposed to be seung but jw my love it is!

5 minutes till the end of shift.

And in the past few hours of your shift, the scene at the checkpoint remained tense yet controlled. Behind the desk, you tapped away as you await the next individual on the list. Hours had been spent meticulously weighing each resident’s reasons and paperwork, a task heavy on your shoulders each time.

You were startled by the sudden creak of the door, which swung open to reveal a tired-looking man. His eyes betrayed his exhaustion, yet he managed a weary smile as he approached the window. "Hello, here’s my ID," he said, placing it on the counter with an air of casualness, his gaze drifting away as he stifled a yawn. His hair, tousled beneath a hat that hinted at his profession.

You inspect his ID with a mix of weariness and curiosity. He seems new? you wonder to yourself, but quickly push the thought aside. "Entry request, please?" you ask, meeting his already fixed stare with a gentle smile as he hands over the necessary paperwork. "Ah, yes... forgot about it, sorry" he mutters apologetically. You accept the documents, scanning them carefully before glancing over to your left. "You’re not on today’s list?" you observe, noting a slight raise of his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "I'm supposed to be there? Probably an error" he mutters, his response prompting a hint of suspicion in your gaze.

Cautiously, you check his phone number and attempt to dial it. "I'm sorry, sir, but you must be on the list to be let–" Before you can finish, he interrupts, addressing you by name. "___?...right?" he questions, his lips forming a tight line as he pleads, "I'm really tired today. If you could just be a sweetheart and–" Suddenly, the phone rings, and you hastily pick it up, your heart skipping a beat as you hear the voice on the other end. "Hello? Jungwon speaking–" The realization hits you– how can the man in front of you look undetectable? His eyes lock onto yours as he blurts out, "Fuck." It's clear he knows he's been caught.

Shaking uncontrollably, you were on the verge of dialling the emergency number when he suddenly slammed his fist against the window, causing you to let out a scream. "Don’t make this hard for me now, angel" he said, his tone surprisingly gentle despite his earlier aggressive action. The encounter with this doppelganger was unlike anything you had experienced before – simultaneously strange and alluring, perhaps due to the handsome facade he wore, and god did he wear it well.

"Let me in or..." he trailed off, a glimmer of malice and lust flickering in his eyes as his lips curled into a smirk. "-I’ll let myself in." Despite the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and the undeniable surge of attraction coursing through your body, you pressed the emergency button. Watching as the metal wall descended, separating you from him. Jungwon's curses echoed loudly from behind the barrier as you continued to dial the D.D.D.

"You have contacted the D.D.D. A group of agents has been sent to your building" the automated voice informed, bringing a momentary sense of relief as you awaited assistance. But his next words shattered that peace. "You know I could kill them all and still get through to you, hm?" he taunted over the metal barriers, causing your heart to race even faster. "Or maybe that’s what you wanted?” Jungwon sighed, clenching your thighs together as you heard him chuckle. “Sweet girls like you shouldn’t play games like this" he scolded with a tsk, following with “It does however, make me want to devour you more”

Huddled in your seat, you listened as the agents rushed in, screams filling the air for what felt like an eternity. For what seemed like so many agonizing minutes later, silence fell upon the room. Trembling, you called out, receiving no response. With caution, you deactivated the emergency button, watching as the metal wall retracted, revealing a gruesome scene before you. Jungwon stood amidst the lifeless bodies of the yellow-suited agents, his back heaving with exhaustion. Blood covered his face and hands, dripping onto the ground.

Unable to find your voice, you watched in horror and awe as Jungwon approached your window, his eyes softened, ruby painted hands clasped together in a pleading gesture as he begged, "Please, I... I didn't mean to. I just wanted to go in." His lips formed a pout, his eyes glossy, yet his face was streaked with blood. Hat nowhere to be found, his hair was ruffled, with some strands sticking to his blood-stained face, "I know i messed up, just let me make it up to you inside" he continued pleading, his lips curving into a genuine smile as he sensed your resolve wavering. Despite the firmness in your stance, his appearance – bloodied, hair tousled, voice filled with desperation stirred something within you, whether you had a clear head you knew the heat was getting to you down there. He gestured toward the green button, the one that would unlock the door, his gaze unwavering as he directly addressed you. "Press that for me, please?" he instructed, as if your better judgment didn't matter. And at that moment, it didn't. 

You found yourself slowly reaching for the unlock button, his presence casting a mesmerizing spell over you. "Ah, that’s my girl" Jungwon praised, his words sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. Yet, beneath his seemingly genuine appreciation, there lurked a sinister undertone, evident in the chuckle that escaped him as the doors clicked open.

Without hesitation, he winked at you and slipped inside, leaving you feeling breathless and foolish. "What have I done?" you muttered to yourself, but before you could fully grasp the weight of your actions, the door to the office swung open behind you. Turning, you found yourself face to face with the bloodied man once again, his eyes fixated on you like a predator sizing up its prey. A chill ran down your spine as he licked the stain of blood from his lips. "Can’t just leave without giving my girl a reward, can I?" he teased, his voice dripping with a dark promise.

As you instinctively reached for the nearest makeshift weapon, Jungwon's eyes rolled with a playful smirk. "Aren’t you adorable? If I wanted you dead, I would've done so earlier" he teased. Jungwon’s words hung heavy in the air as he advanced towards you, his expression softening into that same endearing pout.

"You've done so well for me, angel" he cooed, his arms enveloping yours, causing your heart to race as his scent enveloped you—metallic from the dried blood and musky, intoxicating in its allure. Leaning in, his hair falling gently over his eyes, he fixed his gaze on you, seeming to see right through you, transparent in your vulnerability.

"I could be yours, please let me in" he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, waiting for your consent.

Without hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling him sigh contentedly against you. His hand slid to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he gently pulled you closer. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm path in their wake. Gripping your hair, he tugged on it, drawing a moan from your lips.

His lips continued their journey down your neck, each kiss growing more intense as his grip tightened on your hair, drawing you closer to him. Jungwon’s breath was hot against your skin, his mouth teasing the sensitive spots just below your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He adored the way your body reacted to him, the subtle arch of your back, the soft gasp that escaped your lips, it all fueled his desire. His other hand slipped down your side, fingers grazing over your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their graze.

As his lips found their way back to yours, his kiss became more demanding, his tongue slipping past your lips in a heated dance with yours. The taste of him so metallic, dark, and utterly intoxicating—clouded your senses, making it impossible to think clearly, to think logically. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Jungwon pushed you against the wall, his body pressed firmly against yours, the heat between you both intense. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Jungwon broke the kiss, panting slightly as he gazed down at you with a mix of adoration and hunger in his eyes. "You feel so good, sweet angel" he murmured, his voice thick with lust as his hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of your pants. He gave you a wicked smile before slipping his hand beneath the fabric, finding your most sensitive spot with ease. His fingers moved with expert precision, thrusting in your walls, drawing out moans from you as he leaned in to kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in his touch, the innocent people already forgotten as the intensity of your connection left you breathless and wanting more.

Jungwon's fingers moved with a skilled rhythm, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His lips trailed along your jawline, nipping gently at your skin as he worked you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building within you, your breathe coming in shallow gasps as his touch became more insistent, more demanding. He seemed to sense the exact moment when you were about to tip over the edge, pulling back slightly just to tease you, watching with dark, lustful eyes as you writhed in his arms, desperate for release.

A loud smack echoed through the room as his hand connected with your ass, his eyes glaring down at you. "Patience, angel" he whispered, his voice low and husky, filled with a dark amusement. He relished in your need, the way your body responded so eagerly to his touch. Maybe this was just as delicious as eating flesh. His thumb brushed over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you, making your knees buckle as he held you up against the wall. "I want to see you fall apart for me" he growled, his voice thick with desire as he pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss deep and consuming.

With a final, skilled flick of his fingers, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax, your body shaking against his as you moaned his name. Jungwon watched with a satisfied smirk as you came undone in his arms, his hand never stopping its movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body. When you finally came down from your high, he gently removed his hand, bringing it up to his lips as he licked his fingers clean, eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

With a sudden, forceful grip, Jungwon spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold metal desk. His breath was hot against your neck as he yanked your skirt up, not wasting a moment before tearing away the thin fabric covering your core. "You're mine, aren't you?" he growled, his voice rough and filled with a dark hunger. You barely had time to respond before he thrust into you with no warning, filling you completely, the sharp pain mixing with pleasure as your body adjusted to his size.

"Fuck, you take me so well" he groaned, his hips snapping against you with a brutal pace, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Each thrust was hard, merciless, and deep, driving you forward on the desk. His hand found your hair again, yanking your head back as he leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "You're going to take every drop of me, let me fill you up until you're dripping with me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the rough edge to his voice only heightening the intensity of the moment. Jungwon’s pace was relentless, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His grip on your hair tightened, pulling you back further as he forced you to arch, the angle driving him even deeper. "Good angel" he praised, though his tone carried a mocking edge, a smirk can be heard through it. "You love this, don't you? Being fucked like this, knowing I could fill you up right now” You could only moan in response, the overwhelming sensations rendering you speechless. The slickness of your arousal mixed with the occasional streak of blood from where his nails had dug into your skin, a reminder of the rawness of the situation. Jungwon’s other hand moved to grip your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you intensely. "Say it" he commanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to be filled, bred by me."

Your body was trembling, barely able to hold on as you gasped out the words he wanted to hear. "I want it" you managed to choke out between moans. "I want you to fill me up please" the coherent you would have pushed him away, clearly realizing this wasn’t even the real Jungwon.

A satisfied growl rumbled from his chest as he picked up the pace, slamming into you with enough force to make you see stars. "That’s right, angel" he groaned, his grip tightening as he drove you both towards the edge. "Take all of me. You’re going to be so full of me, there won't be any doubt who you belong to."

With a final deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he released into you. The warmth of his seed filling you sent you over the edge, your body shaking around him as you climaxed, your cries of pleasure bouncing in the room. Even as the waves of pleasure washed over you, Jungwon stayed inside, his hands still gripping you possessively.

Breathless and spent, he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, his voice soft but firm. "I knew you would taste so sweet" he murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, his lips lingering on yours as he whispered, "And now... you're mine, angel." He stepped back, his eyes filled with dark satisfaction, the taste of you still on his lips as he gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leave. You watched him go, your body still trembling, cum dripping down you legs as your mind swirled with a mixture of fear, confusion, and disturbing attraction. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone with the echoes of your own rapid breathing and the scent of him still clinging to your skin.

You slumped against the wall, trying to make sense of what had just happened, the reality of it slowly sinking in. You knew you should feel horrified, disgusted even, but all you could think about was the way he had made you feel, the dark, consuming passion that had ignited between you two. It terrified you, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, a pull that had led you to do the unthinkable. As you slowly gathered yourself, your heart still racing, one thought lingered in your mind: this was far from over.

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@ilovejungwonandhaechan

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@uwudaizy @geraldsmochi

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@enhypenlovre @jwonistic

@denleave1088 @seongiewon

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[strayingawayy]

counterpoint chemistry...

...the one where you and chan turn a debate into a flirting match

you’re in the middle of a very serious academic debate.

or at least, it was serious before bang chan decided to turn it into his own personal rom-com.

"automation is creating a dangerous overreliance on technology," you argue, voice steady, eyes locked on your actual opponent and not on the annoyingly attractive man smirking at you from across the room. "people are losing problem-solving skills, critical thinking, basic human interaction-"

"basic human interaction?" chan interrupts, tilting his head. "you and i seem to be interacting just fine."

your jaw tightens. "academically, bahng. stay on topic."

"i am on topic," he counters, leaning slightly on his podium. "your whole argument is about losing human connection, but here we are, connecting. seems a little counterintuitive, don’t you think?"

his teammates snicker. your teammate visibly facepalms. the moderator sighs deeply, as if regretting every decision that led to this moment.

you take a steady breath. "you're missing the point. this isn't what the motion is about."

"or maybe," he says, tapping his fingers, long and slender and adorning a simple bracelet, against the podium, "you just don’t like that i have a point."

your eyes narrow. "oh, please. the only point you have is the one you’re trying to make about yourself."

he grins. "if you think i’m that self-absorbed, why do you pay so much attention to me?"

"i don’t."

"really?" he raises a brow. "because every time i talk, your eyes go straight to me."

"that’s called participating in a debate, bang. gets me the point you lose every time you're being stupid."

"that’s called being interested," he fires back.

you clench your jaw. "in proving you wrong."

he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "you’re fun when you’re all riled up."

"and you’re turning this debate far too personal," you mutter, flipping through your notes. "if i wanted to waste my time, i’d debate a brick wall."

"but a brick wall wouldn’t flirt back," he quips, eyes twinkling.

"oh, so you admit this is flirting?" you shoot back, raising a brow, a slight smirk adorning your lips. you got him.

his grin falters for a second, no, half a second too long. "wait. no, that’s not-"

"moderator," you say smoothly, turning away from him, "i'd like to formally request that my opponent get deducted points for flirting instead of debating."

the moderator looks exhausted. "if i start deducting points for flirting, we'll be here all night."

"can we please be here all night," chan mutters under his breath.

you turn to glare at him. "i heard that."

he smirks, completely unapologetic. "good."

your teammate groans. "can we please just finish this debate before one of you confesses?"

"i'm waiting on them," chan says, nudging his chin toward you.

"in your bloody dreams," you fire back.

his smirk softens, just slightly, in a way that makes your heart stumble over itself.

"you have no idea."

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 (Squid Game) x Reader...a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

..a kiss for Dae-Ho in a rush of adrenaline

You hadn't really thought about finding an ally in this awful place. Honestly you thought the desperation that filled the sad dorm every night would make everyone here focus on only looking out for themselves. But amongst the darkest times there is always a glimmer of hope in the kindness of others, and the Squid Games were no exception. After only the first game you found yourselves falling in with the previous winner Gi-Hun and the team of friends he seemed to so effortlessly gather around him. One of your teammates in particular seemed to have the innate ability to keep the lights of hope on in your heart when they could have so easily been extinguished - Dae-Ho.

The awkward former marine had been the first to offer you a seat with them, dusting off one of the metal steps you perched on as if he was pulling out a chair at a nice restaurant. It was easy to feel safe around him; his strong arms always settling him in the seat beside you, his kind eyes seeking reassurance you were okay as the games progressed, and his sweet smile telling you this situation would be over soon enough, even though you had no reason to believe him. The two of you were clearly drawn to each other as you entered the game of Mingle, Dae-Ho swearing on his life to keep you close no matter what. But with each passing round the crowd got more aggressive and desperate, the sea of frantic bodies pulling you apart in its current, even as you fought to stay together. After each round you managed to find each other again, only to be grabbed by different groups in the next round and left desperately hoping and praying you both would emerge safely when the doors unlocked again.

"Hold onto my hand." He said firmly as you reunited for the final round, a renewed intensity in his eyes knowing that he only needed to keep you safe for one more torturous minute of this terrible game. "In-ho thinks it will be two per room next, so I promise, me and you are going to be safe." He tried to sound confident, but even in the dim lights you could see his eyes were glistening on the edge of tears as he clung to your hand and braced himself for the wheel stop.

"Groups of Two!" The automated game voice called out for above, and suddenly you felt your whole body getting heaved upwards, the ground below you moving faster than you thought possible from this strange new angle. As you saw the spinning platform disappear from your view, your hands clung desperately to the shape moving at full pelt below you, everything happening in such a blur you couldn't make sense of it.

You heard a door slam and lock, and finally the same strong arms that had made you feel welcome in this strange, scary place gently lowered you back to your feet from where you had been resting over Dae-Ho's shoulder.

"I wasn't taking any chances that time." He laughed out with a nervous smile when he saw your awestruck expression. Rather than risk losing you in the crowd again, he'd just held you tightly and ran as fast as he could to the first free room, never looking behind him because he knew he had everything needed with him.

You stared up at his bashful grin, his head shaking apologetically for the rough way he had handled you, feeling the sheer weight of the situation finally sink in. You were safely through another game. Because of him.

"We're safe! You kept us safe!" You cried out excitedly, your heart hammering in your chest at the realisation, your skin tingling with electricity where his hand still rested lightly on your back until he was sure you wouldn't fall.

"I told you I'd keep you safe." He said simply, offering you a small smile that felt so sincere you couldn't stop yourself from crashing your lips against it. Your hands reached over his shoulders to thread through his long black hair, desperately pulling him closer as if in this moment you two were the only people here. Like you would always be safe if you could stay this close.

Not losing a moment Dae-Ho arms wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground as he dragged you closer, diving into your kiss like it offered him salvation from your solemn surroundings. His teeth nipped against your bottom lip clumsily, all hungry desperation and making the most of every second, shutting out any noise from outside your little room; your little sanctuary, a place where everything would be okay.

As the lock on your door clicked open you both reluctantly parted, unsure if anything so sweet could exist in the rest of this foresaken place. Dae-Ho spoke first, goofy smile plastered across his face where once a worried grimace had been.

"We should go vote to leave, and then maybe I could buy you dinner with my winnings?"

[heelix1r]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 DON’T BE SHY … COME CLOSER 🌾

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ don’t be shy, jungwon just wants to take some pictures with you. won’t you join him?

bela is typing . . . oh to be in forced proximity with yang jungwon…

jungwon x f!reader | drabble | romance | no established au

masterlist | guidelines | requests OPEN !

like this order? check out my recently opened coffee lounge to make your own order to-go ;)

jungwon + romance + forced proximity + “are you blushing?”

you heard distinct chattering from inside the photobooth you were passing by on your way to the claw machines. by the time you turned the corner, you were startled to see jungwon standing on the side, crossing his arms lightly as he rolled his eyes at the commotion coming from the inside. he laid eyes on you, and his expression softened.

“so that’s where you guys were headed off to,” you retorted with a chuckle. “i was wondering how i could’ve lost all seven of you.”

“it was jake’s idea,” he said, tapping on the photobooth with his hands. “but i lost rock-paper-scissors with jay since we both entered the booth last. so now i just have to wait here.”

you heard a muffled “almost done!” from sunoo inside the booth.

“but never mind that,” jungwon said, pushing himself from the photobooth, placing his hands in his pockets. “where were you headed? or were you just looking for us?”

“oh no.” you shook your head. “i gave up five minutes ago, i was going to leave you guys for dead. i wanted to check out the claw machines.”

jungwon shook his head as he saw heeseung’s foot step outside of the booth, presumably preventing himself from falling out. the both of you could hear fragmented bickering about who got to be in the front, faces being smushed in, and an onslaught of swearing, laughing, and yelling that seemed to have no end. you gave each other a knowing look—jungwon definitely was the lucky one by staying out of there.

“well, i’ll come join you,” he mused, nudging his head over to the claw machines. “i bet what you’re doing is a lot more productive than whatever they’re doing.”

“good idea.” you had resigned yourself to taking the lead, and jungwon was more than happy to follow suit. by the time you two had your backs to the photobooth, everything that happened next was too quick for you to process.

in a flash of whirring movements, you yelped at the feeling of your arms being grasped—jungwon’s grunt mirrored your surprise as you watched the other boys chase the two of you down, forcibly pushing you into the photobooth. you and jungwon stared at each other amidst processing their unfiltered laughter. you could hear an employee scolding them to keep it down.

“what are you guys doing?” jungwon asked, his face showing more concern over everything else.

“take some pictures!” riki called out from the outside. “you two are the only ones who didn’t get to, so jay threw in a few more won for you guys to do. see you later!”

it was hard to miss their parading footsteps fade into the distance. you turned to the bright, inviting screen, giving you the option of the standard 4-picture portrait mode.

then it hit you.

you were alone in a close space with yang jungwon.

your body tensed up immediately at the realization, taking in the subtlety in the way his shoulder was pressed against yours. you could smell his cologne—it was faint, but you knew it was his. the only sound that filled your shared silence was the automated voice coming from the booth, inviting the both of you to choose some filters.

you were startled at the sound of jungwon clearing his throat. both of you turned towards one another slowly, your eye contact with him moving back towards the screen.

“we could just take some normal photos,” he offered nonchalantly. he even slouched ever so slightly after he tinkered with the options. “or some silly ones. have any ideas in mind?”

think, think, think.

jungwon, jungwon, jungwon.

“we could,” you mumbled quietly, very intentionally avoiding his gaze. you stared straight in front of you, as if the screen magnetized your vision. or rather, jungwon was repelling it.

repelling it would be far from the truth.

“y/n, that was not an answer.” you pressed your lips together as you heard his voice contort with confusion. “nonchalant or silly? or a mix of both?”

“silly,” you blurted out, your eyes still glued to the screen. “yeah, that would be a good idea.”

jungwon didn’t respond. as a matter of fact, you realized he didn’t reach out for the screen either. he sat there in silence.

“y/n,” he said after a few moments. “look at me.”

you obliged. to your horror, you saw a glint of a smirk stretch across his lips, watching intently as his body leaned in closer to yours, closing the distance between the two of you ever so slightly.

you were in complete shock. jungwon’s stare had you pinned, frozen like a deer in headlights. and as he approached your face even closer with his, you knew you were completely busted. his face was so close, you felt him breathing on your skin. your noses were nearly touching.

he broke the silence once more. “are you blushing?” he hums, that foxy grin appearing without remorse.

you whip around in an attempt to distance yourself from him, as if it would save your dignity. “no,” you answered (a little too forcefully). “i am not. it’s just the screen. there’s… there’s strawberries all over the filters.”

there were no strawberries on the screen. dork.

jungwon chuckled softly. you watched his hand approach the booth screen, starting the countdown abruptly.

“if you’re not blushing, then,” he mused, “then we can move on to being silly, right?”

as if directly on cue, you felt fingers pinching your cheeks in, turning your face towards him. he had a knowing smirk on his face as he gently squished the skin of your cheeks. you knew that he knew that your face was abnormally hot.

before you could protest, the first shutter went off.

you pushed his fingers away, “that was uncalled for!” you exclaimed, wailing your arms. “how dare—”

click. there goes the second picture.

you turned to the camera in horror, and jungwon bursted out into a fit of laughter as you realized how little time you had left.

the camera caught your horrified stare. click.

there was no fighting this. jungwon was playing with you and getting a laugh out of it. mustering what courage you had, you turned back to jungwon within the few seconds you hand, cupped his face, and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. you heard him gasp as the final click went off.

at last, the photo booth was wishing the two of you farewell. you hardly processed that you had just willingly kissed jungwon’s cheek for the sake of the photos, and by the looks of it, jungwon wasn’t really processing it, either.

“two can play at that game,” you muttered, reaching out for the curtain to leave.

but before you could, jungwon nearly pounced on your hands, shooing them away from the curtain, and briskly moving themselves down to cradle your hips. your head whipped around and your eyes met jungwon’s, your faces inches apart.

“was that you being silly?” he asked, his voice low.

that crimson heat forced its way back up to the skin of your cheeks, much to your dismay. “what would you do if i said no?” you whispered.

he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, his fingers tightening around your waist. he pulled you closer, your bodies now pressed against once another.

“i wouldn’t let you leave this booth,” he replied.

as a sharp inhale entered your mouth, both of you were startled out of your trances as a loud banging could be heard from the door.

“are you done yet?” sunghoon asked from the outside. “we’re hungry and out of tickets. hurry up!”

“coming!” you yelled out quickly, composing yourself enough to hastily push the curtain to the booth to the side, allowing the light to display your close proximity with jungwon.

sunghoon had turned around and walked to the rest of the group as you slowly made your way out. but before you could step completely out of the booth and back into the arcade, jungwon grasped your wrist.

you whirled around and saw his facial expression in full view. you felt your breath hitch at how intensely he stared at you, his eyes observing you closely.

this isn’t over, he mouthed to you.

with a huff, you exited the photobooth completely, taking the two sets of photos. when jungwon got out, you gave him his.

he looked at the set of four photos, smiling knowingly as he pressed a soft kiss to it.

“we’ll get back to this later,” he said to you. and by the looks on his face, you knew he was telling you the truth.

the two of you met up with the group before walking out. you couldn’t help but keep peering at the photos you two took together.

you were definitely blushing now.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sandra Newman’s “Julia”

The first chapter of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four has a fantastic joke that nearly everyone misses: when Julia, Winston Smith's love interest, is introduced, she has oily hands and a giant wrench, which she uses in her "mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines":

https://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100021.txt

That line just kills me every time I re-read the book – Orwell, a novelist, writing a dystopian future in which novels are written by giant, clanking mechanisms. Later on, when Winston and Julia begin their illicit affair, we get more detail:

She could describe the whole process of composing a novel, from the general directive issued by the Planning Committee down to the final touching-up by the Rewrite Squad. But she was not interested in the finished product. She 'didn't much care for reading,' she said. Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces.

I always assumed Orwell was subtweeting his publishers and editors here, and you can only imagine that the editor who asked Orwell to tweak the 1984 manuscript must have felt an uncomfortable parallel between their requests and the notional Planning Committee and Rewrite Squad at the Ministry of Truth.

I first read 1984 in the early winter of, well, 1984, when I was thirteen years old. I was on a family trip that included as visit to my relatives in Leningrad, and the novel made a significant impact on me. I immediately connected it to the canon of dystopian science fiction that I was already avidly consuming, and to the geopolitics of a world that seemed on the brink of nuclear devastation. I also connected it to my own hopes for the nascent field of personal computing, which I'd gotten an early start on, when my father – then a computer science student – started bringing home dumb terminals and acoustic couplers from his university in the mid-1970s. Orwell crystallized my nascent horror at the oppressive uses of technology (such as the automated Mutually Assured Destruction nuclear systems that haunted my nightmares) and my dreams of the better worlds we could have with computers.

It's not an overstatement to say that the rest of my life has been about this tension. It's no coincidence that I wrote a series of "Little Brother" novels whose protagonist calls himself w1n5t0n:

https://craphound.com/littlebrother/Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother.htm

I didn't stop with Orwell, of course. I wrote a whole series of widely read, award-winning stories with the same titles as famous sf tales, starting with "Anda's Game" ("Ender's Game"):

https://www.salon.com/2004/11/15/andas_game/

And "I, Robot":

https://craphound.com/overclocked/Cory_Doctorow_-_Overclocked_-_I_Robot.html

"The Martian Chronicles":

https://escapepod.org/2019/10/03/escape-pod-700-martian-chronicles-part-1/

"True Names":

https://archive.org/details/TrueNames

"The Man Who Sold the Moon":

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

and "The Brave Little Toaster":

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212

Writing stories about other stories that you hate or love or just can't get out of your head is a very old and important literary tradition. As EL Doctorow (no relation) writes in his essay "Genesis," the Hebrews stole their Genesis story from the Babylonians, rewriting it to their specifications:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/41520/creationists-by-e-l-doctorow/

As my "famous title" stories and Little Brother books show, this work needn't be confined to antiquity. Modern copyright may be draconian, but it contains exceptions ("fair use" in the US, "fair dealing" in many other places) that allow for this kind of creative reworking. One of the most important fair use cases concerns The Wind Done Gone, Alice Randall's 2001 retelling of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind from the perspective of the enslaved characters, which was judged to be fair use after Mitchell's heirs tried to censor the book:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntrust_Bank_v._Houghton_Mifflin_Co.

In ruling for Randall, the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals emphasized that she had "fully employed those conscripted elements from Gone With the Wind to make war against it." Randall used several of Mitchell's most famous lines, "but vest[ed] them with a completely new significance":

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/F3/268/1257/608446/

The Wind Done Gone is an excellent book, and both its text and its legal controversy kept springing to mind as I read Sandra Newman's wonderful novel Julia, which retells 1984 from the perspective of Julia, she of the oily hands the novel-writing machine:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/julia-sandra-newman?variant=41467936636962

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both Wind Done gone and Rosenkrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. For Winston, the world of 1984 is totalitarian: the Party knows all, controls all and misses nothing. To merely think a disloyal thought is to be doomed, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnicompetent Party will sense the thought and mark you for torture and "vaporization."

Orwell's readers experience all of 1984 through Winston's eyes and are encouraged to trust his assessment of his situation. But Newman brings in a second point of view, that of Julia, who is indeed far more worldly than Winston. But that's not because she's younger than him – it's because she's more provincial. Julia, we learn, grew up outside of the Home Counties, where the revolution was incomplete and where dissidents – like her parents – were sent into exile. Julia has experienced the periphery of the Party's power, the places where it is frayed and incomplete. For Julia, the Party may be ruthless and powerful, but it's hardly omnicompetent. Indeed, it's rather fumbling.

Which makes sense. After all, if we take Winston at his word and assume that every disloyal citizen of Oceania is arrested, tortured and murdered, where would that leave Oceania? Even Kim Jong Un can't murder everyone who hates him, or he'd get awfully lonely, and then awfully hungry.

Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

Julia is also perfectly positioned to uncover the vast blank spots in Winston's supposed intellectual curiosity, all the questions he doesn't ask – about her, about the Party, and about the world. I love this trope and used it myself, in Attack Surface, the third "Little Brother" book, which is told from the point of view of Marcus's frenemy Masha:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531/attacksurface

Through Julia, we come to understand the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Party as fumbling sadists. The Thought Police are like MI5, an Island of Misfit Toys where the paranoid, the stupid, the vicious and the thuggish come together to ruin the lives of thousands, in such a chaotic and pointless manner that their victims find themselves spinning devastatingly clever explanations for their behavior:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/3662a707-0af9-3149-963f-47bea720b460

And, as with Nineteen Eighty-Four, Julia is a first-rate novel, expertly plotted, with fantastic, nail-biting suspense and many smart turns and clever phrases. Newman is doing Orwell, and, at times, outdoing him. In her hands, Orwell – like Winston – is revealed as a kind of overly credulous romantic who can't believe that anyone as obviously stupid and deranged as the state's representatives could be kicking his ass so very thoroughly.

This was, in many ways, the defining trauma and problem of Orwell's life, from his origin story, in which he is shot through the throat by a fascist: sniper during the Spanish Civil War:

https://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/soldiers/george-orwell-shot.html

To his final days, when he developed a foolish crush on a British state spy and tried to impress her by turning his erstwhile comrades in to her:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list

Newman's feminist retelling of Orwell is as much about puncturing the myth of male competence as it is about revealing the inner life, agency, and personhood of swooning love-interests. As someone who loves Orwell – but not unconditionally – I was moved, impressed, and delighted by Julia.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

[donjuaninhell]

How I ditched streaming services and learned to love Linux: A step-by-step guide to building your very own personal media streaming server (V2.0: REVISED AND EXPANDED EDITION)

This is a revised, corrected and expanded version of my tutorial on setting up a personal media server that previously appeared on my old blog (donjuan-auxenfers). I expect that that post is still making the rounds (hopefully with my addendum on modifying group share permissions in Ubuntu to circumvent 0x8007003B "Unexpected Network Error" messages in Windows 10/11 when transferring files) but I have no way of checking. Anyway this new revised version of the tutorial corrects one or two small errors I discovered when rereading what I wrote, adds links to all products mentioned and is just more polished generally. I also expanded it a bit, pointing more adventurous users toward programs such as Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr and Overseerr which can be used for automating user requests and media collection.

So then, what is this tutorial? This is a tutorial on how to build and set up your own personal media server using Ubuntu as an operating system and Plex (or Jellyfin) to not only manage your media, but to also stream that media to your devices both at home and abroad anywhere in the world where you have an internet connection. Its intent is to show you how building a personal media server and stuffing it full of films, TV, and music that you acquired through indiscriminate and voracious media piracy various legal methods will free you to completely ditch paid streaming services. No more will you have to pay for Disney+, Netflix, HBOMAX, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Peacock, CBS All Access, Paramount+, Crave or any other streaming service that is not named Criterion Channel. Instead whenever you want to watch your favourite films and television shows, you’ll have your own personal service that only features things that you want to see, with files that you have control over. And for music fans out there, both Jellyfin and Plex support music streaming, meaning you can even ditch music streaming services. Goodbye Spotify, Youtube Music, Tidal and Apple Music, welcome back unreasonably large MP3 (or FLAC) collections.

On the hardware front, I’m going to offer a few options catered towards different budgets and media library sizes. The cost of getting a media server up and running using this guide will cost you anywhere from $450 CAD/$325 USD at the low end to $1500 CAD/$1100 USD at the high end (it could go higher). My server was priced closer to the higher figure, but I went and got a lot more storage than most people need. If that seems like a little much, consider for a moment, do you have a roommate, a close friend, or a family member who would be willing to chip in a few bucks towards your little project provided they get access? Well that's how I funded my server. It might also be worth thinking about the cost over time, i.e. how much you spend yearly on subscriptions vs. a one time cost of setting up a server. Additionally there's just the joy of being able to scream "fuck you" at all those show cancelling, library deleting, hedge fund vampire CEOs who run the studios through denying them your money. Drive a stake through David Zaslav's heart.

On the software side I will walk you step-by-step through installing Ubuntu as your server's operating system, configuring your storage as a RAIDz array with ZFS, sharing your zpool to Windows with Samba, running a remote connection between your server and your Windows PC, and then a little about started with Plex/Jellyfin. Every terminal command you will need to input will be provided, and I even share a custom #bash script that will make used vs. available drive space on your server display correctly in Windows.

If you have a different preferred flavour of Linux (Arch, Manjaro, Redhat, Fedora, Mint, OpenSUSE, CentOS, Slackware etc. et. al.) and are aching to tell me off for being basic and using Ubuntu, this tutorial is not for you. The sort of person with a preferred Linux distro is the sort of person who can do this sort of thing in their sleep. Also I don't care. This tutorial is intended for the average home computer user. This is also why we’re not using a more exotic home server solution like running everything through Docker Containers and managing it through a dashboard like Homarr or Heimdall. While such solutions are fantastic and can be very easy to maintain once you have it all set up, wrapping your brain around Docker is a whole thing in and of itself. If you do follow this tutorial and had fun putting everything together, then I would encourage you to return in a year’s time, do your research and set up everything with Docker Containers.

Lastly, this is a tutorial aimed at Windows users. Although I was a daily user of OS X for many years (roughly 2008-2023) and I've dabbled quite a bit with various Linux distributions (mostly Ubuntu and Manjaro), my primary OS these days is Windows 11. Many things in this tutorial will still be applicable to Mac users, but others (e.g. setting up shares) you will have to look up for yourself. I doubt it would be difficult to do so.

Nothing in this tutorial will require feats of computing expertise. All you will need is a basic computer literacy (i.e. an understanding of what a filesystem and directory are, and a degree of comfort in the settings menu) and a willingness to learn a thing or two. While this guide may look overwhelming at first glance, it is only because I want to be as thorough as possible. I want you to understand exactly what it is you're doing, I don't want you to just blindly follow steps. If you half-way know what you’re doing, you will be much better prepared if you ever need to troubleshoot.

Honestly, once you have all the hardware ready it shouldn't take more than an afternoon or two to get everything up and running.

(This tutorial is just shy of seven thousand words long so the rest is under the cut.)

Step One: Choosing Your Hardware

Linux is a light weight operating system, depending on the distribution there's close to no bloat. There are recent distributions available at this very moment that will run perfectly fine on a fourteen year old i3 with 4GB of RAM. Moreover, running Plex or Jellyfin isn’t resource intensive in 90% of use cases. All this is to say, we don’t require an expensive or powerful computer. This means that there are several options available: 1) use an old computer you already have sitting around but aren't using 2) buy a used workstation from eBay, or what I believe to be the best option, 3) order an N100 Mini-PC from AliExpress or Amazon.

Note: If you already have an old PC sitting around that you’ve decided to use, fantastic, move on to the next step.

When weighing your options, keep a few things in mind: the number of people you expect to be streaming simultaneously at any one time, the resolution and bitrate of your media library (4k video takes a lot more processing power than 1080p) and most importantly, how many of those clients are going to be transcoding at any one time. Transcoding is what happens when the playback device does not natively support direct playback of the source file. This can happen for a number of reasons, such as the playback device's native resolution being lower than the file's internal resolution, or because the source file was encoded in a video codec unsupported by the playback device.

Ideally we want any transcoding to be performed by hardware. This means we should be looking for a computer with an Intel processor with Quick Sync. Quick Sync is a dedicated core on the CPU die designed specifically for video encoding and decoding. This specialized hardware makes for highly efficient transcoding both in terms of processing overhead and power draw. Without these Quick Sync cores, transcoding must be brute forced through software. This takes up much more of a CPU’s processing power and requires much more energy. But not all Quick Sync cores are created equal and you need to keep this in mind if you've decided either to use an old computer or to shop for a used workstation on eBay

Any Intel processor from second generation Core (Sandy Bridge circa 2011) onward has Quick Sync cores. It's not until 6th gen (Skylake), however, that the cores support the H.265 HEVC codec. Intel’s 10th gen (Comet Lake) processors introduce support for 10bit HEVC and HDR tone mapping. And the recent 12th gen (Alder Lake) processors brought with them hardware AV1 decoding. As an example, while an 8th gen (Kaby Lake) i5-8500 will be able to hardware transcode a H.265 encoded file, it will fall back to software transcoding if given a 10bit H.265 file. If you’ve decided to use that old PC or to look on eBay for an old Dell Optiplex keep this in mind.

Note 1: The price of old workstations varies wildly and fluctuates frequently. If you get lucky and go shopping shortly after a workplace has liquidated a large number of their workstations you can find deals for as low as $100 on a barebones system, but generally an i5-8500 workstation with 16gb RAM will cost you somewhere in the area of $260 CAD/$200 USD.

Note 2: The AMD equivalent to Quick Sync is called Video Core Next, and while it's fine, it's not as efficient and not as mature a technology. It was only introduced with the first generation Ryzen CPUs and it only got decent with their newest CPUs, we want something cheap.

Alternatively you could forgo having to keep track of what generation of CPU is equipped with Quick Sync cores that feature support for which codecs, and just buy an N100 mini-PC. For around the same price or less of a used workstation you can pick up a mini-PC with an Intel N100 processor. The N100 is a four-core processor based on the 12th gen Alder Lake architecture and comes equipped with the latest revision of the Quick Sync cores. These little processors offer astounding hardware transcoding capabilities for their size and power draw. Otherwise they perform equivalent to an i5-6500, which isn't a terrible CPU. A friend of mine uses an N100 machine as a dedicated retro emulation gaming system and it does everything up to 6th generation consoles just fine. The N100 is also a remarkably efficient chip, it sips power. In fact, the difference between running one of these and an old workstation could work out to hundreds of dollars a year in energy bills depending on where you live.

You can find these Mini-PCs all over Amazon or for a little cheaper on AliExpress. They range in price from $170 CAD/$125 USD for a no name N100 with 8GB RAM to $280 CAD/$200 USD for a Beelink S12 Pro with 16GB RAM. The brand doesn't really matter, they're all coming from the same three factories in Shenzen, go for whichever one fits your budget or has features you want. 8GB RAM should be enough, Linux is lightweight and Plex only calls for 2GB RAM. 16GB RAM might result in a slightly snappier experience, especially with ZFS. A 256GB SSD is more than enough for what we need as a boot drive, but going for a bigger drive might allow you to get away with things like creating preview thumbnails for Plex, but it’s up to you and your budget.

The Mini-PC I wound up buying was a Firebat AK2 Plus with 8GB RAM and a 256GB SSD. It looks like this:

Note: Be forewarned that if you decide to order a Mini-PC from AliExpress, note the type of power adapter it ships with. The mini-PC I bought came with an EU power adapter and I had to supply my own North American power supply. Thankfully this is a minor issue as barrel plug 30W/12V/2.5A power adapters are easy to find and can be had for $10.

Step Two: Choosing Your Storage

Storage is the most important part of our build. It is also the most expensive. Thankfully it’s also the most easily upgrade-able down the line.

For people with a smaller media collection (4TB to 8TB), a more limited budget, or who will only ever have two simultaneous streams running, I would say that the most economical course of action would be to buy a USB 3.0 8TB external HDD. Something like this one from Western Digital or this one from Seagate. One of these external drives will cost you in the area of $200 CAD/$140 USD. Down the line you could add a second external drive or replace it with a multi-drive RAIDz set up such as detailed below.

If a single external drive the path for you, move on to step three.

For people with larger media libraries (12TB+), who prefer media in 4k, or care who about data redundancy, the answer is a RAID array featuring multiple HDDs in an enclosure.

Note: If you are using an old PC or used workstatiom as your server and have the room for at least three 3.5" drives, and as many open SATA ports on your mother board you won't need an enclosure, just install the drives into the case. If your old computer is a laptop or doesn’t have room for more internal drives, then I would suggest an enclosure.

The minimum number of drives needed to run a RAIDz array is three, and seeing as RAIDz is what we will be using, you should be looking for an enclosure with three to five bays. I think that four disks makes for a good compromise for a home server. Regardless of whether you go for a three, four, or five bay enclosure, do be aware that in a RAIDz array the space equivalent of one of the drives will be dedicated to parity at a ratio expressed by the equation 1 − 1/n i.e. in a four bay enclosure equipped with four 12TB drives, if we configured our drives in a RAIDz1 array we would be left with a total of 36TB of usable space (48TB raw size). The reason for why we might sacrifice storage space in such a manner will be explained in the next section.

A four bay enclosure will cost somewhere in the area of $200 CDN/$140 USD. You don't need anything fancy, we don't need anything with hardware RAID controls (RAIDz is done entirely in software) or even USB-C. An enclosure with USB 3.0 will perform perfectly fine. Don’t worry too much about USB speed bottlenecks. A mechanical HDD will be limited by the speed of its mechanism long before before it will be limited by the speed of a USB connection. I've seen decent looking enclosures from TerraMaster, Yottamaster, Mediasonic and Sabrent.

When it comes to selecting the drives, as of this writing, the best value (dollar per gigabyte) are those in the range of 12TB to 20TB. I settled on 12TB drives myself. If 12TB to 20TB drives are out of your budget, go with what you can afford, or look into refurbished drives. I'm not sold on the idea of refurbished drives but many people swear by them.

When shopping for harddrives, search for drives designed specifically for NAS use. Drives designed for NAS use typically have better vibration dampening and are designed to be active 24/7. They will also often make use of CMR (conventional magnetic recording) as opposed to SMR (shingled magnetic recording). This nets them a sizable read/write performance bump over typical desktop drives. Seagate Ironwolf and Toshiba NAS are both well regarded brands when it comes to NAS drives. I would avoid Western Digital Red drives at this time. WD Reds were a go to recommendation up until earlier this year when it was revealed that they feature firmware that will throw up false SMART warnings telling you to replace the drive at the three year mark quite often when there is nothing at all wrong with that drive. It will likely even be good for another six, seven, or more years.

Step Three: Installing Linux

For this step you will need a USB thumbdrive of at least 6GB in capacity, an .ISO of Ubuntu, and a way to make that thumbdrive bootable media.

First download a copy of Ubuntu desktop (for best performance we could download the Server release, but for new Linux users I would recommend against the server release. The server release is strictly command line interface only, and having a GUI is very helpful for most people. Not many people are wholly comfortable doing everything through the command line, I'm certainly not one of them, and I grew up with DOS 6.0. 22.04.3 Jammy Jellyfish is the current Long Term Service release, this is the one to get.

Download the .ISO and then download and install balenaEtcher on your Windows PC. BalenaEtcher is an easy to use program for creating bootable media, you simply insert your thumbdrive, select the .ISO you just downloaded, and it will create a bootable installation media for you.

Once you've made a bootable media and you've got your Mini-PC (or you old PC/used workstation) in front of you, hook it directly into your router with an ethernet cable, and then plug in the HDD enclosure, a monitor, a mouse and a keyboard. Now turn that sucker on and hit whatever key gets you into the BIOS (typically ESC, DEL or F2). If you’re using a Mini-PC check to make sure that the P1 and P2 power limits are set correctly, my N100's P1 limit was set at 10W, a full 20W under the chip's power limit. Also make sure that the RAM is running at the advertised speed. My Mini-PC’s RAM was set at 2333Mhz out of the box when it should have been 3200Mhz. Once you’ve done that, key over to the boot order and place the USB drive first in the boot order. Then save the BIOS settings and restart.

After you restart you’ll be greeted by Ubuntu's installation screen. Installing Ubuntu is really straight forward, select the "minimal" installation option, as we won't need anything on this computer except for a browser (Ubuntu comes preinstalled with Firefox) and Plex Media Server/Jellyfin Media Server. Also remember to delete and reformat that Windows partition! We don't need it.

Step Four: Installing ZFS and Setting Up the RAIDz Array

Note: If you opted for just a single external HDD skip this step and move onto setting up a Samba share.

Once Ubuntu is installed it's time to configure our storage by installing ZFS to build our RAIDz array. ZFS is a "next-gen" file system that is both massively flexible and massively complex. It's capable of snapshot backup, self healing error correction, ZFS pools can be configured with drives operating in a supplemental manner alongside the storage vdev (e.g. fast cache, dedicated secondary intent log, hot swap spares etc.). It's also a file system very amenable to fine tuning. Block and sector size are adjustable to use case and you're afforded the option of different methods of inline compression. If you'd like a very detailed overview and explanation of its various features and tips on tuning a ZFS array check out these articles from Ars Technica. For now we're going to ignore all these features and keep it simple, we're going to pull our drives together into a single vdev running in RAIDz which will be the entirety of our zpool, no fancy cache drive or SLOG.

Open up the terminal and type the following commands:

sudo apt update

then

sudo apt install zfsutils-linux

This will install the ZFS utility. Verify that it's installed with the following command:

zfs --version

Now, it's time to check that the HDDs we have in the enclosure are healthy, running, and recognized. We also want to find out their device IDs and take note of them:

sudo fdisk -1

Note: You might be wondering why some of these commands require "sudo" in front of them while others don't. "Sudo" is short for "super user do”. When and where "sudo" is used has to do with the way permissions are set up in Linux. Only the "root" user has the access level to perform certain tasks in Linux. As a matter of security and safety regular user accounts are kept separate from the "root" user. It's not advised (or even possible) to boot into Linux as "root" with most modern distributions. Instead by using "sudo" our regular user account is temporarily given the power to do otherwise forbidden things. Don't worry about it too much at this stage, but if you want to know more check out this introduction.

If everything is working you should get a list of the various drives detected along with their device IDs which will look like this: /dev/sdc. You can also check the device IDs of the drives by opening the disk utility app. Jot these IDs down as we'll need them for our next step, creating our RAIDz array.

RAIDz is similar to RAID-5 in that instead of striping your data over multiple disks, exchanging redundancy for speed and available space (RAID-0), or mirroring your data writing by two copies of every piece (RAID-1), it instead writes parity blocks across the disks in addition to striping, this provides a balance of speed, redundancy and available space. If a single drive fails, the parity blocks on the working drives can be used to reconstruct the entire array as soon as a replacement drive is added.

Additionally, RAIDz improves over some of the common RAID-5 flaws. It's more resilient and capable of self healing, as it is capable of automatically checking for errors against a checksum. It's more forgiving in this way, and it's likely that you'll be able to detect when a drive is dying well before it fails. A RAIDz array can survive the loss of any one drive.

Note: While RAIDz is indeed resilient, if a second drive fails during the rebuild, you're fucked. Always keep backups of things you can't afford to lose. This tutorial, however, is not about proper data safety.

To create the pool, use the following command:

sudo zpool create "zpoolnamehere" raidz "device IDs of drives we're putting in the pool"

For example, let's creatively name our zpool "mypool". This poil will consist of four drives which have the device IDs: sdb, sdc, sdd, and sde. The resulting command will look like this:

sudo zpool create mypool raidz /dev/sdb /dev/sdc /dev/sdd /dev/sde

If as an example you bought five HDDs and decided you wanted more redundancy dedicating two drive to this purpose, we would modify the command to "raidz2" and the command would look something like the following:

sudo zpool create mypool raidz2 /dev/sdb /dev/sdc /dev/sdd /dev/sde /dev/sdf

An array configured like this is known as RAIDz2 and is able to survive two disk failures.

Once the zpool has been created, we can check its status with the command:

zpool status

Or more concisely with:

zpool list

The nice thing about ZFS as a file system is that a pool is ready to go immediately after creation. If we were to set up a traditional RAID-5 array using mbam, we'd have to sit through a potentially hours long process of reformatting and partitioning the drives. Instead we're ready to go right out the gates.

The zpool should be automatically mounted to the filesystem after creation, check on that with the following:

df -hT | grep zfs

Note: If your computer ever loses power suddenly, say in event of a power outage, you may have to re-import your pool. In most cases, ZFS will automatically import and mount your pool, but if it doesn’t and you can't see your array, simply open the terminal and type sudo zpool import -a.

By default a zpool is mounted at /"zpoolname". The pool should be under our ownership but let's make sure with the following command:

sudo chown -R "yourlinuxusername" /"zpoolname"

Note: Changing file and folder ownership with "chown" and file and folder permissions with "chmod" are essential commands for much of the admin work in Linux, but we won't be dealing with them extensively in this guide. If you'd like a deeper tutorial and explanation you can check out these two guides: chown and chmod.

You can access the zpool file system through the GUI by opening the file manager (the Ubuntu default file manager is called Nautilus) and clicking on "Other Locations" on the sidebar, then entering the Ubuntu file system and looking for a folder with your pool's name. Bookmark the folder on the sidebar for easy access.

Your storage pool is now ready to go. Assuming that we already have some files on our Windows PC we want to copy to over, we're going to need to install and configure Samba to make the pool accessible in Windows.

Step Five: Setting Up Samba/Sharing

Samba is what's going to let us share the zpool with Windows and allow us to write to it from our Windows machine. First let's install Samba with the following commands:

sudo apt-get update

then

sudo apt-get install samba

Next create a password for Samba.

sudo smbpswd -a "yourlinuxusername"

It will then prompt you to create a password. Just reuse your Ubuntu user password for simplicity's sake.

Note: if you're using just a single external drive replace the zpool location in the following commands with wherever it is your external drive is mounted, for more information see this guide on mounting an external drive in Ubuntu.

After you've created a password we're going to create a shareable folder in our pool with this command

mkdir /"zpoolname"/"foldername"

Now we're going to open the smb.conf file and make that folder shareable. Enter the following command.

sudo nano /etc/samba/smb.conf

This will open the .conf file in nano, the terminal text editor program. Now at the end of smb.conf add the following entry:

["foldername"]

path = /"zpoolname"/"foldername"

available = yes

valid users = "yourlinuxusername"

read only = no

writable = yes

browseable = yes

guest ok = no

Ensure that there are no line breaks between the lines and that there's a space on both sides of the equals sign. Our next step is to allow Samba traffic through the firewall:

sudo ufw allow samba

Finally restart the Samba service:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

At this point we'll be able to access to the pool, browse its contents, and read and write to it from Windows. But there's one more thing left to do, Windows doesn't natively support the ZFS file systems and will read the used/available/total space in the pool incorrectly. Windows will read available space as total drive space, and all used space as null. This leads to Windows only displaying a dwindling amount of "available" space as the drives are filled. We can fix this! Functionally this doesn't actually matter, we can still write and read to and from the disk, it just makes it difficult to tell at a glance the proportion of used/available space, so this is an optional step but one I recommend (this step is also unnecessary if you're just using a single external drive). What we're going to do is write a little shell script in #bash. Open nano with the terminal with the command:

nano

Now insert the following code:

#!/bin/bash CUR_PATH=`pwd` ZFS_CHECK_OUTPUT=$(zfs get type $CUR_PATH 2>&1 > /dev/null) > /dev/null if [[ $ZFS_CHECK_OUTPUT == *not\ a\ ZFS* ]] then IS_ZFS=false else IS_ZFS=true fi if [[ $IS_ZFS = false ]] then df $CUR_PATH | tail -1 | awk '{print $2" "$4}' else USED=$((`zfs get -o value -Hp used $CUR_PATH` / 1024)) > /dev/null AVAIL=$((`zfs get -o value -Hp available $CUR_PATH` / 1024)) > /dev/null TOTAL=$(($USED+$AVAIL)) > /dev/null echo $TOTAL $AVAIL fi

Save the script as "dfree.sh" to /home/"yourlinuxusername" then change the ownership of the file to make it executable with this command:

sudo chmod 774 dfree.sh

Now open smb.conf with sudo again:

sudo nano /etc/samba/smb.conf

Now add this entry to the top of the configuration file to direct Samba to use the results of our script when Windows asks for a reading on the pool's used/available/total drive space:

[global]

dfree command = /home/"yourlinuxusername"/dfree.sh

Save the changes to smb.conf and then restart Samba again with the terminal:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

Now there’s one more thing we need to do to fully set up the Samba share, and that’s to modify a hidden group permission. In the terminal window type the following command:

usermod -a -G sambashare “yourlinuxusername”

Then restart samba again:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

If we don’t do this last step, everything will appear to work fine, and you will even be able to see and map the drive from Windows and even begin transferring files, but you'd soon run into a lot of frustration. As every ten minutes or so a file would fail to transfer and you would get a window announcing “0x8007003B Unexpected Network Error”. This window would require your manual input to continue the transfer with the file next in the queue. And at the end it would reattempt to transfer whichever files failed the first time around. 99% of the time they’ll go through that second try, but this is still all a major pain in the ass. Especially if you’ve got a lot of data to transfer or you want to step away from the computer for a while.

It turns out samba can act a little weirdly with the higher read/write speeds of RAIDz arrays and transfers from Windows, and will intermittently crash and restart itself if this group option isn’t changed. Inputting the above command will prevent you from ever seeing that window.

The last thing we're going to do before switching over to our Windows PC is grab the IP address of our Linux machine. Enter the following command:

hostname -I

This will spit out this computer's IP address on the local network (it will look something like 192.168.0.x), write it down. It might be a good idea once you're done here to go into your router settings and reserving that IP for your Linux system in the DHCP settings. Check the manual for your specific model router on how to access its settings, typically it can be accessed by opening a browser and typing http:\\192.168.0.1 in the address bar, but your router may be different.

Okay we’re done with our Linux computer for now. Get on over to your Windows PC, open File Explorer, right click on Network and click "Map network drive". Select Z: as the drive letter (you don't want to map the network drive to a letter you could conceivably be using for other purposes) and enter the IP of your Linux machine and location of the share like so: \\"LINUXCOMPUTERLOCALIPADDRESSGOESHERE"\"zpoolnamegoeshere"\. Windows will then ask you for your username and password, enter the ones you set earlier in Samba and you're good. If you've done everything right it should look something like this:

You can now start moving media over from Windows to the share folder. It's a good idea to have a hard line running to all machines. Moving files over Wi-Fi is going to be tortuously slow, the only thing that’s going to make the transfer time tolerable (hours instead of days) is a solid wired connection between both machines and your router.

Step Six: Setting Up Remote Desktop Access to Your Server

After the server is up and going, you’ll want to be able to access it remotely from Windows. Barring serious maintenance/updates, this is how you'll access it most of the time. On your Linux system open the terminal and enter:

sudo apt install xrdp

Then:

sudo systemctl enable xrdp

Once it's finished installing, open “Settings” on the sidebar and turn off "automatic login" in the User category. Then log out of your account. Attempting to remotely connect to your Linux computer while you’re logged in will result in a black screen!

Now get back on your Windows PC, open search and look for "RDP". A program called "Remote Desktop Connection" should pop up, open this program as an administrator by right-clicking and selecting “run as an administrator”. You’ll be greeted with a window. In the field marked “Computer” type in the IP address of your Linux computer. Press connect and you'll be greeted with a new window and prompt asking for your username and password. Enter your Ubuntu username and password here.

If everything went right, you’ll be logged into your Linux computer. If the performance is sluggish, adjust the display options. Lowering the resolution and colour depth do a lot to make the interface feel snappier.

Remote access is how we're going to be using our Linux system from now, barring edge cases like needing to get into the BIOS or upgrading to a new version of Ubuntu. Everything else from performing maintenance like a monthly zpool scrub to checking zpool status and updating software can all be done remotely.

This is how my server lives its life now, happily humming and chirping away on the floor next to the couch in a corner of the living room.

Step Seven: Plex Media Server/Jellyfin

Okay we’ve got all the ground work finished and our server is almost up and running. We’ve got Ubuntu up and running, our storage array is primed, we’ve set up remote connections and sharing, and maybe we’ve moved over some of favourite movies and TV shows.

Now we need to decide on the media server software to use which will stream our media to us and organize our library. For most people I’d recommend Plex. It just works 99% of the time. That said, Jellyfin has a lot to recommend it by too, even if it is rougher around the edges. Some people run both simultaneously, it’s not that big of an extra strain. I do recommend doing a little bit of your own research into the features each platform offers, but as a quick run down, consider some of the following points:

Plex is closed source and is funded through PlexPass purchases while Jellyfin is open source and entirely user driven. This means a number of things: for one, Plex requires you to purchase a “PlexPass” (purchased as a one time lifetime fee $159.99 CDN/$120 USD or paid for on a monthly or yearly subscription basis) in order to access to certain features, like hardware transcoding (and we want hardware transcoding) or automated intro/credits detection and skipping, Jellyfin offers some of these features for free through plugins. Plex supports a lot more devices than Jellyfin and updates more frequently. That said, Jellyfin's Android and iOS apps are completely free, while the Plex Android and iOS apps must be activated for a one time cost of $6 CDN/$5 USD. But that $6 fee gets you a mobile app that is much more functional and features a unified UI across platforms, the Plex mobile apps are simply a more polished experience. The Jellyfin apps are a bit of a mess and the iOS and Android versions are very different from each other.

Jellyfin’s actual media player is more fully featured than Plex's, but on the other hand Jellyfin's UI, library customization and automatic media tagging really pale in comparison to Plex. Streaming your music library is free through both Jellyfin and Plex, but Plex offers the PlexAmp app for dedicated music streaming which boasts a number of fantastic features, unfortunately some of those fantastic features require a PlexPass. If your internet is down, Jellyfin can still do local streaming, while Plex can fail to play files unless you've got it set up a certain way. Jellyfin has a slew of neat niche features like support for Comic Book libraries with the .cbz/.cbt file types, but then Plex offers some free ad-supported TV and films, they even have a free channel that plays nothing but Classic Doctor Who.

Ultimately it's up to you, I settled on Plex because although some features are pay-walled, it just works. It's more reliable and easier to use, and a one-time fee is much easier to swallow than a subscription. I had a pretty easy time getting my boomer parents and tech illiterate brother introduced to and using Plex and I don't know if I would've had as easy a time doing that with Jellyfin. I do also need to mention that Jellyfin does take a little extra bit of tinkering to get going in Ubuntu, you’ll have to set up process permissions, so if you're more tolerant to tinkering, Jellyfin might be up your alley and I’ll trust that you can follow their installation and configuration guide. For everyone else, I recommend Plex.

So pick your poison: Plex or Jellyfin.

Note: The easiest way to download and install either of these packages in Ubuntu is through Snap Store.

After you've installed one (or both), opening either app will launch a browser window into the browser version of the app allowing you to set all the options server side.

The process of adding creating media libraries is essentially the same in both Plex and Jellyfin. You create a separate libraries for Television, Movies, and Music and add the folders which contain the respective types of media to their respective libraries. The only difficult or time consuming aspect is ensuring that your files and folders follow the appropriate naming conventions:

Plex naming guide for Movies

Plex naming guide for Television

Jellyfin follows the same naming rules but I find their media scanner to be a lot less accurate and forgiving than Plex. Once you've selected the folders to be scanned the service will scan your files, tagging everything and adding metadata. Although I find do find Plex more accurate, it can still erroneously tag some things and you might have to manually clean up some tags in a large library. (When I initially created my library it tagged the 1963-1989 Doctor Who as some Korean soap opera and I needed to manually select the correct match after which everything was tagged normally.) It can also be a bit testy with anime (especially OVAs) be sure to check TVDB to ensure that you have your files and folders structured and named correctly. If something is not showing up at all, double check the name.

Once that's done, organizing and customizing your library is easy. You can set up collections, grouping items together to fit a theme or collect together all the entries in a franchise. You can make playlists, and add custom artwork to entries. It's fun setting up collections with posters to match, there are even several websites dedicated to help you do this like PosterDB. As an example, below are two collections in my library, one collecting all the entries in a franchise, the other follows a theme.

My Star Trek collection, featuring all eleven television series, and thirteen films.

My Best of the Worst collection, featuring sixty-nine films previously showcased on RedLetterMedia’s Best of the Worst. They’re all absolutely terrible and I love them.

As for settings, ensure you've got Remote Access going, it should work automatically and be sure to set your upload speed after running a speed test. In the library settings set the database cache to 2000MB to ensure a snappier and more responsive browsing experience, and then check that playback quality is set to original/maximum. If you’re severely bandwidth limited on your upload and have remote users, you might want to limit the remote stream bitrate to something more reasonable, just as a note of comparison Netflix’s 1080p bitrate is approximately 5Mbps, although almost anyone watching through a chromium based browser is streaming at 720p and 3mbps. Other than that you should be good to go. For actually playing your files, there's a Plex app for just about every platform imaginable. I mostly watch television and films on my laptop using the Windows Plex app, but I also use the Android app which can broadcast to the chromecast connected to the TV in the office and the Android TV app for our smart TV. Both are fully functional and easy to navigate, and I can also attest to the OS X version being equally functional.

Part Eight: Finding Media

Now, this is not really a piracy tutorial, there are plenty of those out there. But if you’re unaware, BitTorrent is free and pretty easy to use, just pick a client (qBittorrent is the best) and go find some public trackers to peruse. Just know now that all the best trackers are private and invite only, and that they can be exceptionally difficult to get into. I’m already on a few, and even then, some of the best ones are wholly out of my reach.

If you decide to take the left hand path and turn to Usenet you’ll have to pay. First you’ll need to sign up with a provider like Newshosting or EasyNews for access to Usenet itself, and then to actually find anything you’re going to need to sign up with an indexer like NZBGeek or NZBFinder. There are dozens of indexers, and many people cross post between them, but for more obscure media it’s worth checking multiple. You’ll also need a binary downloader like SABnzbd. That caveat aside, Usenet is faster, bigger, older, less traceable than BitTorrent, and altogether slicker. I honestly prefer it, and I'm kicking myself for taking this long to start using it because I was scared off by the price. I’ve found so many things on Usenet that I had sought in vain elsewhere for years, like a 2010 Italian film about a massacre perpetrated by the SS that played the festival circuit but never received a home media release; some absolute hero uploaded a rip of a festival screener DVD to Usenet. Anyway, figure out the rest of this shit on your own and remember to use protection, get yourself behind a VPN, use a SOCKS5 proxy with your BitTorrent client, etc.

On the legal side of things, if you’re around my age, you (or your family) probably have a big pile of DVDs and Blu-Rays sitting around unwatched and half forgotten. Why not do a bit of amateur media preservation, rip them and upload them to your server for easier access? (Your tools for this are going to be Handbrake to do the ripping and AnyDVD to break any encryption.) I went to the trouble of ripping all my SCTV DVDs (five box sets worth) because none of it is on streaming nor could it be found on any pirate source I tried. I’m glad I did, forty years on it’s still one of the funniest shows to ever be on TV.

Part Nine/Epilogue: Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr and Overseerr

There are a lot of ways to automate your server for better functionality or to add features you and other users might find useful. Sonarr, Radarr, and Lidarr are a part of a suite of “Servarr” services (there’s also Readarr for books and Whisparr for adult content) that allow you to automate the collection of new episodes of TV shows (Sonarr), new movie releases (Radarr) and music releases (Lidarr). They hook in to your BitTorrent client or Usenet binary newsgroup downloader and crawl your preferred Torrent trackers and Usenet indexers, alerting you to new releases and automatically grabbing them. You can also use these services to manually search for new media, and even replace/upgrade your existing media with better quality uploads. They’re really a little tricky to set up on a bare metal Ubuntu install (ideally you should be running them in Docker Containers), and I won’t be providing a step by step on installing and running them, I’m simply making you aware of their existence.

The other bit of kit I want to make you aware of is Overseerr which is a program that scans your Plex media library and will serve recommendations based on what you like. It also allows you and your users to request specific media. It can even be integrated with Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr so that fulfilling those requests is fully automated.

And you're done. It really wasn't all that hard. Enjoy your media. Enjoy the control you have over that media. And be safe in the knowledge that no hedgefund CEO motherfucker who hates the movies but who is somehow in control of a major studio will be able to disappear anything in your library as a tax write-off.

[sweetkpopmusings]

hongjoong coworker headcanons <3

a/n: a whole bunch of people got laid off at my company today, so it only seems right that i cope by escaping into thoughts of coworker!ateez <3 please enjoy the precious gem that is coworker!hongjoong :,-) pics not mine~

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 1k | warnings: none really! one mention of food | pairing: coworker!hongjoong x gn!reader | requests: open

everyone, and i mean absolutely everyone, wants to be mentored by hongjoong

they don’t care if they aren’t even in the same department as hongjoong

they just KNOW that he is the best ally and support system to have in the office

everyone also says his face is a workplace perk most people are too scared to say thing within earshot of hongjoong lmao

hongjoong knows everything people say about him, but he doesn’t let on

instead, he simply does his job and minds his business

things change when you start working at the company

you were hired in not only the same department, but same team as hongjoong

so your supervisor assigned hongjoong as your mentor

hongjoong, ever the professional, happily accepts and promises to train you well, so you can succeed in your new role

this all happens before you have a chance to learn hongjoong’s lore at the office

so you are wildly confused by the shocked and jealous stares from your coworkers as hongjoong walks you to your desk

it also feels suspicious that seemingly everybody is walking by your desk while hongjoong gives you a brief introduction to workflows, programs, etc.

but you, like hongjoong, are just trying to mind your business and do your job

which is actually super easy because hongjoong knows every single hack, automation, etc that means you can get your work done without being slowed down by tedious tasks

he’s a genius but so casual about it that you’re just sitting there like :-0 ??? how does he know everything ???

he chuckles when he sees your face and assures you that it’s just because he’s been there for ages and that soon enough you’ll be exactly the same way

you doubt it but appreciate his confidence in you LOL

at the end of your first week, hongjoong offers to take you to lunch

he says your boss is paying for it because it is “team bonding” so you agree 

what you didn’t know was that this team bonding would include hongjoong spilling ALL the tea in the office

he wasn’t gossiping in a cruel way, but he felt it was his duty, as your mentor, to give context on all the looks you were receiving

hongjoong finds it hilarious and adorable when you look at him with an absolutely shocked face

he just sits back while it sinks in for you, and, based on your reaction, hongjoong knows for sure that he finally has a friend in the office

he can tell that you won’t treat him like he’s different, which is a massive relief for him

so, from that day on, he makes it his mission to be both an amazing mentor AND a good friend

he stops by your desk for little check-ins and spends his breaks with you, whether sipping on coffee or walking around outside

hongjoong remembers everything you tell him about your life like he’s an incredible listener

you joke that it’s creepy he pays SO much attention to every detail you share and he says his resume didn’t say “detailed-oriented” for nothing

that is the moment you realize he is a complete dork LOL

speaking of dorky hongjoong

whenever he offers you a “cheer up!” or “you’ve got this!” it feels so much like a proud parent cheering on their child

he complains when you say this because “at least i should be an older brother but a DAD?!?!”

hongjoong is sulky but that goes away as soon as you buy him his favorite drink

you also changed his contact to “dad” but he doesn’t need to know that <3

he isn’t beating the dad/older brother allegations any time soon because he nags you once he gets comfortable with you 

it’s always with a smile on his face and full of care

but he will nag you about keeping your desk clean, using better handwriting, making your presentations more stylistic, etc

like sorry when did he become a judge instead of a mentor ???

it’s okay though because he lets you return the favor by nagging him constantly <3

hongjoong pretends not to like it when you nag him, but it fills his heart because that means you’re comfortable with him too :,-)

it also adds to everyone’s jealousy because you two are CLEARLY close and hongjoong finds their envy ridiculous and hilarious 

he definitely brags about how close you two are like he thinks you’re incredible and that everyone should be jealous they don’t know you like he does

somehow dating rumors start of course and when asked about it, you and hongjoong always reply with “wouldn’t you like to know”

hongjoong made you promise to give that answer because he thinks it’s fun to mess with everyone LMAO

he has so much fun with you that, to show his appreciation, hongjoong gets you a gift for your one-year anniversary at the company, including a handwritten note

he makes you promise not to open it while he’s with you because he doesn’t want either of you to feel awkward

later, once you read the note, you understand exactly why he requested this

the note starts with him praising your work ethic and improvement because he’s a proud mentor :,-)

at the end, he confesses that, before you started working there, he felt pretty isolated

it was like he was on an island or in a fish bowl, being watched from afar by everyone else

after that first lunch, and the many, many conversations you shared afterward, hongjoong finally felt like he belonged there

you made hongjoong feel like he belonged

that was something he was immensely grateful for, so he promised to pay you back by supporting you as a coworker and person, so you never felt like you were alone or an outsider

hongjoong tries to play it off the next time he sees you, but the sparkle in his eye when you thank him for being such a good colleague and friend reveals just how much he cherishes you in the workplace and beyond <333

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Tuesday! Ugh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s nearly midnight in Norway by the time you’re free of the airport. The train station isn’t far; it’s part of the airport. You wait on a bench between the rails as your boarding is two hours away. You sit with your luggage and mope. This new land only adds to the gloom clinging to you. 

You shiver as a draft flows down the tunnel. Not only is grey and grim, but it’s cold. It’s almost June but the weather is more akin to the cusp of winter and spring back home.  

Your weeks of research couldn’t prepare you for the real things. All that anticipation could never compare to that moment of desolation; alone in this far land, away from everything you knew. Everything around you is new and foreign and unwelcoming. 

When the train pulls up, you wait in queue with the other passengers. Some are native, speaking in lilted English or indecipherable Norwegian. Duolingo hasn’t done much for you as you catch only scraps of pronouns and verbs. Others are new arrivals like yourself but they seem much more certain of themselves. You feel utterly lost. 

You show your ticket and board. You tuck your bag away with the larger pieces kept at the front of the carriage and hug your carry-on in your lap. You stare out the window as the train begins to roll on the tracks, screeching as it pulls out into the black night of this strange land. 

The subtle rumble of the locomotive lulls you into a half-sleep. Your head is wrought with the ache of your building hangover and twisted visions of the life left behind. You hear Steve’s final goodbye, you feel the hug that was snugger on your end than his, and you feel the razor of Peggy’s spiteful eye. Even in a stupour, you can’t forget it. You hope Sam is right and that it will fade with time, yet you fear it might all be gone for good. 

You wake as the automated voice announces your stop as the next one. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You’re trying to be optimistic. Just focus on work. That’s what this is all about. Everyone keeps saying it and you haven’t heard any of them. This is a great opportunity. What you’ve been hoping for all these years. How did you forget that?  

You disembark and drag your bag behind your heavy feet. You’re exhausted but you still have a trek to go. Everything looks so different than back home. Small differences but enough to reinforce your displacement. 

You find the rental car kiosk at the other end of the station and show your reservation. Work is paying for that too. Apparently, you’ll need it to get to the site. Another harbinger of desolation. 

You hook up your phone to the built-in bluetooth and tap the address already saved in your maps. The app takes a moment to recenter and finally, you’re off. You wonder if you should even be driving. You’re definitely not drunk anymore but you’re barely awake. 

It’s only an hours ride across the city, just along the ridges that look off onto the coast. It’s beautiful. You can see that even through your melancholy.  

The morning rises as you get your key to the blue paneled townhouse. You should try to stay up to reset your clock but you’re jet lagged to the bone. The moment the door is locked, you let your bags fall to the floor and stumble through to the first piece of furniture you see. You collapse face first onto the couch, unable to feel the impact as you plummet into a deep sleep. 

Time, space, and all your pain disappears. There is only the endless void of fatigue. Your mind is too tired to summon nightmares or nonsensical visions. Your body is so drained that even your brain is empty. 

You wake on your arm, fingers tingling painfully as your shoulder muscles burn. You hiss and sit up. The bend of your fingers and a shaky attempt to move your elbow make you whine. Ugh. You rub feeling back into the limb as you lean against the back of the couch. 

You look around, finally able to take it all in. The house is neat and sleek. White plaster and pale wood finishes. The couch you sit on is a sectional and there’s a match ottoman across from you. The TV mounted on the wall reflects the shadow of the archway behind you and the tall lamp in the corner and the stone and marble ornaments. 

You rise, wobbling on your legs, and put your arms out to get your bearings. You meander through the townhouse. You can hardly admire the furnished interior as it underlines your loneliness. All this space for just you. 

There’s a kitchen at the rear of the house, a large wooden island standing center to a fridge with a glass door and polished counters carved in granite. The tiles are pristinely placed diamonds in hexagons and a large window looks out into the rain-soaked yard. It’s night again, or maybe that’s what the daylight looks like here. 

Upstairs, there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. A full tub and separate shower, two sinks set into a sparkling counter, and a wall of mirrors above them. It truly is a dream but why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You amble down stairs and fish out your phone. The battery is at eight percent. You have several texts. All from Sam. You only remember then why you don’t see any from Steve. No, you won’t check. 

You quickly type that you’ve landed safely and set the cell down. You’ll let it die before you plug back in. You need time. You need to get yourself straight. You need to accept that this is all real. You made this choice.  

You’re starting over. It’s a new life and there’s no room for your heart here. 

💟

You have the night to unpack, more than just your luggage. Still, there are things you can’t let out. Not yet. As much as the blade twists in your chest, taking it out will mean a deluge you can’t quell. For now, you just won’t think about it. 

You sleep a few more hours and wake just before six. You have your bag ready to go for the day. You tie on your boots and pull on a lined jacket before braving the Norwegian summer. You lock the door behind you and yawn into the brisk air. 

Before you head for the site, you stop at a cafe you see along the way. You get an egg biscuit and a coffee with extra espresso. You’re sure to add on a snack to eat between your work. 

You drive towards the greater mountains and turn onto the road that angles up the side. You follow the curved ledge as the GPS guides you through the car speakers. The drive is two hours up, maybe a bit quicker on the way down. Suddenly, a ping sounds from the system and you glance at the screen; ‘signal lost’. Shoot. It’s okay. You think you’re almost there. 

You pull over, not that there’s much space to do so. You have the physical maps you’ll use for the work itself. You find yourself amid the lines and symbols and memorise the path forward. You continue on cautiously, reassured as you’re met with a sign that delineates the site. The plot has already been closed off with a fence. 

‘Grant land. No trespassing.’ 

You park just outside the fencing and grab your bag and your breakfast. You sit on the hood and eat as you look over the muddy site. You read the grant report. It’s here they think there was a settlement. Not a very big one but an important one.  

The rock wall hugs the site in an almost perfect basin as the slick land is barren of almost any growth. You’ll start with gridding it all out, both with string and on paper. You clap your hands off and get up to begin. The process will keep your distracted. 

You put your earbud in and set to task. You pause to sip coffee and mark the paper between planting the stakes and the string the twine to divvy it all up in squares. You watch where you put each step, the mud sucking at your treads. A wet site is never an easy one. 

It takes the first day just to prep for digging and you don’t even think you’re done. You’re tired and achy and ready to go home. It’ll take you nearly three hours back by your guess. The night will be a short one as you figure you’ll need to head out earlier, especially if you hope to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. 

As you get back to the townhouse, it’s night again. You walk down to a fish restaurant just a block away. The faces are friendly and the food is good, but it all seems so bland. You eat and go back to your accommodation. Not home, just a place to lay your head. 

You check your phone. Back amid the world of the living, you have a dozen messages; Sam, Bucky, your mom, Arturo. You respond to each of them in turn, assuring them that all is well. You don’t have the energy for much more. 

Yet it isn’t up to you. Your phone chimes at you as you near the bed, sitting on the edge as you answer. You know with Sam that ignoring him will only make him worse. 

“Hey,” you answer with an unrestrained yawn. 

“Yo, how ya feeling?” he asks. 

“Erm, tired,” you lean forward, crossing and arm over your knees. “How are things there?” 

“Eh, usual. So, uh, did that paradise punch knock you on your ass too or am I getting old?” He chuckles. 

“Heh, yeah, no I’m feeling it still,” you mutter. 

“Mm, it’s late there...” he says, “sorry, if I’m keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just... a lot of driving.” 

“Oh? You worked today?” 

“Wanted to get a head start,” you shrug as you play with the fold of your pajamas across your knee. 

“How is it? Is it bleak? Cold? Are the men gruff?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Grey. Bit chilly but it’s not bad around noon,” you say dully, “haven’t seen much of the locals. With how long it takes me to get up the mountain...” 

“Oh, a mountain,” he echoes enthusiastically, “that’s exciting.” 

“I guess. Eats away the day.” 

“I’m sure,” he agrees glumly, “hey, don’t forget to treat yourself. Take a weekend off and hit that spa.” 

“I will. I just got here.” 

“Well, we all miss you,” he says. “Bucky especially. We got in a huge blow out the other day over the string in his hoodie.” 

“Of course you did,” you can’t help but laugh. 

“Really, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to fix it and it just... slipped inside, I don’t know. I don’t think it was about the string,” he snickers. “Probably having to deal with Steve and his--” Sam stops himself, “sorry.” 

“What? No, it’s fine. Really. I came out here to get away but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.” 

“I know but you’re tryna forget him. Like you should,” Sam insists. “And he’ll realise soon enough what he missed out on all these years. And you need to do the same. Go out, explore, enjoy it. You’ll need to have some good stories to bring back to us here, we’re dying of boredom without you.” 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll try,” you grumble, “anyway, I gotta head out early for the dig so I should let you go.” 

“Right, of course,” he agrees, “don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

“Night,” he says. 

You return a ‘good night’ and hang up. You toss your phone onto the pillow and heave as you clutch your head. You hate this. Why did you come all this way just to suffer? You should have just stuck it out. Sat on the sidelines like you always did and just swallow it all down. This is worse. Being so alone.  

There’s no going back. Not now. So you just need to get through this and after... after you’ll just have to face Mr. and Mrs. Rogers with a fake smile and broken heart. 

💟

The next week goes by much like your first days there. You wake up, drive up the mountain, plot, dig, clean up, and drive back. You sleep almost as soon as you sit down. You don’t have time to mull over what you left behind, not as you catalogue every bone and bead you come across. 

You check in with Arturo when you can, just to confirm that everything is going according to plan. Often, you’re asleep when anyone else calls. You wake up to notifications from your mom and Sam and even Bucky. You should call them back but you just can’t. You can’t put on a fake voice for them. Not yet. 

You take a day off. Only after Arturo insists. You know you should. You may as well have a proper grocery shop. You can’t keep living off the cafe and fish shop.  

The shop feels more like a market. You pick through produce and meats, and get what’s easy. You’ll cook it all and package it up so you can just heat it up later. Some muffins to eat on your way up the mountain and maybe a few protein bars. 

As you trawl the grocery store aisles, you pull out your phone. You have a pile of unread notifications from Insta. You don’t often check it anyway but your curious and a little homesick. 

You see your mom’s post about her trip to the vineyard with her book club pals and Sam’s story with a very agitated looking Bucky. That makes you laugh. You scroll by some crafting videos and the pages you follow of castle curators living your aspirational goals. 

Then you stop. You pull the cart still and go rigid as you stare at the screen. The image of Steve and Peggy burns into your retinas like a blinding light. It’s there engagement announcement. He has her in his arms, kissing her, as she holds out her hand to the camera to show off the diamond. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest is on fire and your ears are ringing. It’s like salt in the wound and you don’t doubt it's intentional, at least on Peggy’s part.  

Your hands shake as you grip the phone tightly and tap on Steve’s username. You ignore the rest of his profile and the pictures you know will only add to the turmoil brewing in your stomach. You hit the button in the corner and tap again and again. ‘You are about to block ‘starsnstripes18, are you sure’. Yes and yes! 

You lock the screen and drop the phone into your purse, nestled into the basket of the cart. You grasp the bar and push the cart forward, steadying your steps with it. You look between the shelves and exhale. 

You need to go cold turkey. No more Steve, no more Peggy, no more New York. You stood still so long, it feels good to run away from it all. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Technomancer

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Would someone like to explain to my three wives why the in the nine hells I was called in on my one day off?”

Chief Detective Fargra Mcuff looked around the bullpen at the gathered detectives and low level robotic magistrates running about. The magistrates were only programmed to deliver pressing dispatches or carry in suspects for interrogation, and the detectives were smart enough to avoid the Chief Detective when he was on the war path and quickly dispersed or made themselves scarce.

“Aster!” the chief shouted at the nearest detective that was too slow to vanish into the background. With no other avenue of escape they sighed and shuffled over to Fargra.

“Sorry, sir, but it seems we grabbed ourselves a big fish.”

“Explain.”

Aster motioned for the Chief to follow and the pair started navigating through the bullpen.

“Last night we had someone walk through a security checkpoint at the orbital dock.”

“Is that meant to surprise me?” Fargra grunted as he squeezed between two magistrate units. “Literally thousands of passengers pass through the docks daily.”

“No sir,” Aster continued, “I mean they literally walked through the security checkpoint.”

“I don’t follow.”

The pair stopped just outside of interrogation room B7. Aster ran his hand through his head tendrils as he gathered himself.

“They walked through the security checkpoint without going through any of the security scanners or restricted materials detectors.” He tapped on the door behind him leading into the room. “Security doors opened wide for this guy and he strode right through as if they owned the place. The only reason we have them is because there was a technician on site doing repair work who quickly alerted the rest of the dock about the breach.”

His interest piqued, Fargra nodded at the door and Aster opened it.

Interrogation room B7 was divided into two parts, a standard holding area where the subject was chained to a metal table and chair, and the observation area that overlooked the holding area via a one-way glass panel. The door the pair just entered through led straight into the observation area and Fargra got his first good look at the suspect.

He was surprised to say the least when the subject was wearing a bright blue hoodie and orange pants. The suspect was chained up facing the panel and Fargra could see that they were in fact human, which explained the outlandish attire.

“How did that walking atrocity of fashion walk through one of the most secure locations on the planet?” Fargra asked as he walked over to the window for a better look. “With a getup like that half the security cameras in that place should have marked them for a crime against style.”

Aster shrugged. “Here’s where it gets even crazier sir, they didn’t appear on any of the cameras.”

“What, like they knew where they were and walked around them?” Fargra asked.

“By eye witness accounts they walked straight down the main causeway like the rest of the crowd, but when reviewing the camera feeds for both the automated security and camera units they don’t appear at all.”

Aster leaned up against the panel of glass and joined the Chief observing the suspect. “Wherever they went it was like they just got erased from the picture and a blank space was plastered over it.”

With the mystery deepening the Chief realized why they had called him in. Someone who could so brazenly walk past their most advanced security systems without being seen was on par with a national security risk. Hell, there was no telling if they were acting alone or smuggling something or someone else along with them on to the planet which opened a whole new can of crumbrum problems.

“We got an ID on our mystery guest yet?”

“Aside from their species we got nothing on them.” Aster motioned over to a nearby table with a strange variety of items strewn across it.

“These were their possessions at the time of the arrest. No ID, galactic passport, not even a citizen registration chip embedded into their body.”

“And yet somehow they were able to board a trans-system flight.” Fargra finished for his detective as he examined the items. The mystery was now turning into his most perplexing with this new information.

Travel between systems was largely allowed by all species, but still heavily monitored and regulated. No one could leave their home system without some form of identification to resolve transportation disputes or cultural differences that might spark interplanetary disputes. Yet here was someone with nothing, which means that wherever they came from they had also bypassed security on that end as well.

He looked up from the belongings to look back at the human and saw that their mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear anything.

“Do we have audio for the room?”

Aster nodded. “It’s been playing and recording since they were brought in.”

He nodded at the suspect. “Then why can’t I hear what they’re saying?”

Aster turned to follow the Chief’s gaze and was surprised as well.

“Guess they got nothing to say out loud.”

Fargra watched the human silently mouthing away and a thought occurred to him.

“Have the station AI monitor the feed to the room and initialize the lip reading program, then have it transcribe everything they are mouthing.”

Aster nodded in agreement and went over to a nearby wall. He tapped a panel and a small keyboard appeared with which he entered in the new parameters for the room.

While that was going on Fargar took another look at the effects. His scaled hands sifted through a small bag removing nothing of notice. A dated magazine from an orbital shop, a packet of generic chewing candy, a tube of teeth cleaner; and then something that did catch his eye.

A golden watch; or at least what he thought was one. Physical time tracking constructs were a purely human instrument and he had never seen one before aside from pictures.

He flipped the small device in his hand and by accident hit a release latch. The front panel of the device popped open revealing the innards of the watch along with a strange delicately carved symbol; a large cogwheel with a lightning but crossing atop it.

The symbol meant nothing to him but pulled out his communicator to reach out to a contact that might know it.

“Fargar you handsome sack of shit, how are you?”

The formality of the insult made Aster stifle a snort as Fargar held his communicator closer.

“Doing well, though knowing what a sorry sack of flesh you are I won’t bother asking about your current standing.” Fargar retorted.

The voice laughed back. “So, what can your friendly human relations officer Samson do for you?”

“I’ve got a strange one for you.” Fargar began. “We just caught a human with no ID walking through a security checkpoint.”

He hefted the watch again. “The only identifying thing we got on them was a gold watch with a symbol of a cogwheel and a lightning bolt; does that ring any bells?”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of that one.” Samson replied. “It doesn’t match with the latest criminal identifiers we have on file; let me do a quick search.”

There was a pause while his human contact opened up a data search with the description he was given. Several minutes passed before Samson’s voice finally returned.

“Listen to me,” they spoke with an oddly serious tone, “I need you to be absolutely sure that the symbol you just told me is what you actually saw.”

“I’m looking at the damn thing right now.” Fargar replied confused as Aster returned to join him at the viewing window. “It’s carved into the inside of this gold watch that was on their person.”

A long pause separated the two as Fargar speaking with someone quietly on their end in a frantic hushed manner.

“Terran peace keeping forces have been requested and should be at your location within three hours.” Samson responded. “It is imperative that you keep that suspect under lock and key until they arrive. Sedate them if you have to but do not let them leave or interact with technology under any circumstances.”

“What’s this about?”

“I don’t have all the details but running that symbol alone just set off a high level security lockdown on my terminal followed by a direct call from Terran Internal Security.”

“TIS?”

Fargar had never interacted with the human security but had heard the rumors. They handled things quietly and internally without much fuss, and if they were up in arms about this mystery human they weren’t to be taken lightly.

“They’re called the “Technomancer”, and can access any tech they get their hands on.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got them locked in an interrogation room under observation.”

“Good,” Samson sounded much calmer, “just keep them there without any interaction with technology.”

“I mean,” Aster spoke up, “we do have the AI monitoring them right now.”

“Why? Have they said anything?”

“No, but they have been mouthing something.” Fargar spoke up, shooting Aster a glare to be quiet.

Just then the wall panel began chiming and a data fee began displaying.

“In fact it just finished transcribing what they’ve been mouthing.”

He leaned over and quickly read the details, but none of it made sense.

“def login(): Authorization override while (flag-0)…”

Fargar kept reading it out loud but stopped after three more lines of gobblygook.

“It doesn’t make any-“

“SHUT THEM UP NOW!” Samson all but shouted into the communicator.

The pair of detectives turned back to the panel and saw the human suspect now looking directly at them before the lights went out. ----------------------------

“Greetings, new chief inspector.” The automate AI voice drone inside the holding area. “How may I assist you?”

“Reclassify all organic beings, excluding myself, inside this station as violent offenders.” The human spoke softly. “Detention parameters overruled for all magistrate units, lethal force authorized for continued preservation of peace.”

“Understood.” the AI’s voice chimed.

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

From outside the interrogation room Fargar could hear the sounds of screams. Aster drew their sidearm and quickly exited the room only to have a waiting Magistrate robot’s fist crash into their head.

Bits of bone and flesh showered the Chief Detective as Aster’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor as the machine entered the room. Fargar was faster on the draw and his weapon was in his hand before Aster’s body had even hit the ground.

Three electro rounds penetrated the robots body and the machine sparked violently before collapsing to the ground.

From outside the room Fargar could see the bright flashes of weapons fire as his detectives now fought for their lives against the previously peaceful Magistrate robots who now seemed hell-bent on eviscerating them.

It was code…

The final pieces came together as he let his weapon recharge.

The human had been reading out a sequence command as if they were typing it in at a terminal and when read by the AI unit gave them direct access to their systems when it finished. They had just taken control over the entire station and their pale ass was still chained to a table!

[heliosunny]

For the request can I please have yandere Topaz x spy reader?

Yandere!Topaz x Spy!Reader

The IPC headquarters was an untouchable fortress, at least, that’s what they wanted everyone to believe. You had slipped through tighter security before, evaded sharper eyes, and walked away from more perilous operations unscathed. This was just another job. Another mission. Another untouchable figure to dismantle.

Topaz, Senior Manager of Strategic Investments, was the target. Her role in the IPC made her a dangerous opponent, but also an invaluable asset to your employer. You only needed to extract classified financial records, just enough to tip the scales. A clean job, no blood, no alarms, just data.

Everything had gone smoothly.

You bypassed security systems, wove through automated patrols, and reached the data archives without a hitch. The files loaded onto your drive in seconds. A flawless escape was within reach, that is, until you turned around.

She was waiting. Topaz stood casually in front of the exit, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her eyes gleamed with something unsettling, mostly amusement, curiosity, control.

"Wow" she mused, "I have to admit, you’re pretty good. Most people don’t make it this far without setting off at least a dozen alarms."

You had been careful. Every precaution taken. Every measure accounted for.

As if reading your mind, Topaz lifted her wrist, revealing a sleek IPC communicator. "The moment you entered the building, I had my security feed rerouted. Instead of alerting my subordinates, I let you walk right in. I wanted to see how far you'd get before realizing..." She tilted her head, a smirk forming.

"You were never in control."

Heat burned at the back of your neck. "Then why wait? Why let me get this far if you knew?"

She chuckled. "Because watching you work was fun. And because, sweetheart, I think we can help each other."

Your breath steadied as your mind raced. If she wasn’t alerting security, she wanted something. This wasn’t an immediate death sentence, it was a game. And if she wanted to play, you would find a way to win.

"What kind of help?" you asked, voice carefully neutral.

Topaz’s smile widened as she stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor. "A deal, of course. You’re talented, resourceful, and bold. The kind of person I like keeping around. So here’s my offer: work for me."

"Not as an IPC agent" she continued, her tone sweet, coaxing, "but as my personal informant. I have... competitors who need watching, tasks that require someone with your skill set." She brushed a hand through her hair, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "In exchange, I'll make sure no one knows you were ever here. No bounty on your head, no retaliation from the IPC, no mysterious 'disappearances' in the night."

It sounded too good. There had to be a catch.

"...And if I refuse?"

Topaz sighed, feigning disappointment. "Then I let my security system do its job, and, well..." She gestured lazily. "You know how the IPC deals with trespassers. Your real employer won't come save you. You'll just be another loose end tied up."

You needed time. A chance to find a weakness, to flip the game back in your favor.

You exhaled, slowly. "Fine. I'll hear the terms."

Topaz beamed. "Good choice! You won’t regret it."

For a moment, it almost seemed like you wouldn’t. The first few tasks were simple, easy, and manageable, gathering intel, dropping misinformation, a few falsified reports. But then, slowly, the conditions began to change.

At first, it was extra tasks. Then, it was little details that didn’t quite match what you originally agreed to. And by the time you realized just how deep you were, the walls had already closed in. You weren’t an idiot. You knew from the start that Topaz's deal was too good to be true.

Numby, her ever-present companion, had taken an odd interest in you. The chubby trotter followed you around constantly, snuffling at your pockets like it expected you to start producing money.

One time, you caught it trying to chew through your coat.

“Numby, no.”

The little trotter blinked up at you innocently.

“I told you” Topaz had chuckled, leaning lazily against her desk, “Numby’s got a good eye for investments. And you?” She smirked. “You're a very valuable asset.”

You didn’t like how she said that.

You liked it even less when you started noticing the subtle shifts in her behavior.

At first, it was small things. The way your “assignments” started requiring more personal involvement. The way she casually dropped your name into IPC circles, slipping you into places you had no business being. The way Numby had started curling up in your lap without invitation, as if marking you as hers.

Your usual informants suddenly wanted nothing to do with you. Your safe houses mysteriously stopped being “safe.” Every attempt to create an exit route was subtly, effortlessly blocked.

The final straw came when you tried to leave the planet.

You had booked an anonymous ticket on a cargo ship, something low-profile, something outside of IPC jurisdiction. But when you arrived at the dock, a familiar voice rang out.

“Ohhh, I knew you’d try something like this.”

You whipped around.

Topaz stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with amusement. Numby floated beside her, its little snout twitching as if sniffing out your escape attempt like a financial miscalculation.

Your stomach twisted. "How?"

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as if disappointed. “Come on, sweetheart, do you really think I’d let you walk out of a contract so easily?”

"This wasn’t in the deal."

Topaz’s lips curled. “Mmm... No, but I am IPC, and you did agree to work for me indefinitely. Did you really not read the fine print?”

A holo-screen flickered to life beside her, displaying an altered version of your agreement. There—right at the bottom, in the tiniest, most infuriatingly vague text—you saw it:

"Duration: Until Manager Topaz deems the contract fulfilled."

"You rigged it."

Topaz grinned. "I refined it."

You took a step back. "This is insane. I never agreed to—"

"Sure you did! You just thought you could outsmart me." Her expression softened, almost fond. "But I like that about you. You keep things interesting."

Numby let out a happy squeak and nudged your leg.

You stared at them both. "You can't keep me here."

Topaz let out a slow, thoughtful hum. Then she smiled, bright and sweet.

"Numby?"

The little trotter chirped, then suddenly lunged for your ticket, chomping it out of your hand.

"NUMBY—!"

Too late. The stub was gone, devoured in one decisive bite. The tiny beast swallowed, then let out a smug snuffle, as if personally securing your financial—and physical ruin.

You gawked. "Did you just—”

Topaz stifled a laugh behind her hand. “Ahhh, Numby, good work! Always watching out for bad investments.”

Numby chirped in agreement.

You clenched your jaw, fury simmering beneath your skin. "I am not an investment."

Topaz hummed, stepping forward until she was just inches away. “Oh, but you are. A valuable one. And as long as you keep trying to leave…”

Her fingers brushed along your wrist, feather-light, yet iron in intent.

“…I’ll just have to keep reminding you where you belong.”

Numby let out a delighted snuffle.

You had never hated a tiny financial advisor more in your life.

Posing as Topaz’s subordinate had been a desperate move. You needed to buy time to find a weakness, an escape route, anything that could get you out of her grip.

But now, standing beside her in an IPC-investigated fraud case, you were beginning to regret it.

The boardroom was silent. A collection of high-ranking IPC officials sat around the table, their holo-screens filled with financial reports, transaction histories, and legal documents. A high-profile businessman had been accused of embezzlement, and it was Topaz’s job to untangle the mess.

Technically, it wasn’t your job. But since Topaz had smugly introduced you as her "trusted assistant", you had no choice but to play along.

Numby sat on the table beside you, snuffling at the paperwork.

You shot Topaz a side glance. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

She smiled sweetly. "Of course I am. You look cute when you’re pretending to follow orders."

The meeting dragged on, the accused businessman sweating under the weight of the IPC’s scrutiny. Every time he tried to defend himself, Topaz countered with ironclad numbers. He was cornered. Almost.

But something felt off. A discrepancy in the financial records. A missing link.

You glanced at the reports again, scanning quickly. Then, you saw it-an insignificant-looking transaction, hidden within a cluster of minor expenses. But the pattern…

It was deliberate. A shell account. A decoy. The real funds were funneled elsewhere.

Topaz was still talking, smoothly dismantling the businessman’s weak excuses. You leaned in slightly, your voice low.

"He's hiding it through secondary shell accounts. Check the linked subsidiaries in column D—there’s a laundering trail."

Topaz stilled.

Then, a slow, delighted smile spread across her lips.

"Ahhh, I knew keeping you was a good idea."

Without hesitation, she pulled up the subsidiary records. One glance was all she needed.

"Well, well," she mused, cutting through the businessman’s last defense like a blade. “It looks like someone’s been playing very dirty.”

The room tensed. A few keystrokes later, and the final proof was displayed for all to see.

The businessman turned pale.

The IPC officials murmured in approval.

Numby let out a triumphant chirp.

And Topaz?

She turned to you and whispered, “I think I like you even more now.”

[lilithsterrarium]

It slowly limped forward, bare feet slapping gently against the cold, metal flooring of the platform. Its body was pale, ribs poking out of it's skin, a large, cheap gown hung around it's shoulders. Just beneath the cut of it's gown, it's thighs were branded with a series of numbers, black ink standing in stark contrast to it's milky-white skin. It's arms were wrapped in bandages, a few leaking blood. It's feet, entirely bare, shook like leaves in the wind, threatening to topple over at any given moment. A gloved hand gently held it's shoulder, guiding it towards it's Shell.

It's eyes, hollow and blank, lit up ever so slightly when it saw the familiar sight. The head of it's mech stood, cockpit agape, ready for a mission. It liked how it's mech looked. The camera systems used for it's surveilance looked like bulging, bug-like eyes. The "mouth" of it formed pincer-like formations, steel bent into sharp angles to resemble a set of pincers. Jutting metal rods stuck out from the top, useful not only for picking up signals, but also resembled antennae. It smiled weakly. It didn't quite remember why, but it's Shell's appearance made it happy. It slowly, weakly crawled inside.

It sat in it's seat, the smell of sweat and blood from it's last mission entirely swept away. It was sterile, clean; it reeked of chemicals. It leaned back, feeling the familiar click of wires into it's spine, the familiar buzz of electricity shooting through it's veins as it slowly got settled. Above it, a small radio system crackled to life. The husky voice of it's handler was loud, almost painfully so; and it smiled at the sound. It had requested the audio be turned up. It sounded like it's handler was looming, her voice booming around her. It gently settled back as more wires snapped into place.

"Hello dear. You seem to be happy; I managed to talk them into those changes you asked for. I hope this is loud enough for you."

It nodded.

"Lovely. Listen, this one shouldn't be too hard, okay? Just settle in, be a good girl. This is always the hardest part, you can do it."

It felt the lurching Shell move forward, autopiloted to get to a spot where it could take direct control. It let out a small whine when it remembered what was coming. It hated this part.

The final wires snapped into place as the vision systems came to life, a massive periphery of the city enviornment around it. The view from it's Shell was so, so high up. Automated vehicles darted beneath it's feet like insects, as the war machine lurched to life. Buildings, large obelisks of glass and metal stood at the same height as it's shell. It squirmed in it's seat, making that same whining noise. It saw people. People. People were so small compared to it. That wasn't right. It was supposed to be small. It wasn't supposed to be big. This was wrong, it was all wrong. It was all too aware of the space it took up, how people hurridly moved away from it. It was large, it was massive, it was a monster. It's eyes welled with tears as it saw what it's mech saw, looking down at a world far, far smaller than itself.

It's frantic thoughts were finally put to an end as the sharp point of a needle slowly punctured it's arm. It felt... sluggish... but in a good way. Like it was dreaming. Like nothing was real. It squirmed, not noticing the cock standing fully erect from under it's gown. It whined, but felt compelled to work. It could obey. It could do this. It could finish the mission. It hardly noticed the tears under it's eyes as it began it's work piloting the collosal Shell.

"Theeeeere you go. Good girl. I promise, we'll make you feel all nice and small again soon."

[amethystarachnid]

Hi, how are you doing? ☺️

I’m here to make a little request for Tony Stark/Female Reader, please.

Prompt: Secret Santa

Background: Tony all cute and happy trying to find the best gift for her (maybe something handmade that reminds them of their relationship, I’m not the best person to think about those things, but I’m sure you will find something amazing) and Reader immediately knows what she’ll give to him, a box either a positive pregnancy test, some ultrasound pictures, a cute little iron man onesie with “Iron Baby” written and some other cute little things.

Thank you in advance! 💜

SECRET SANTA

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: While Tony is trying desperately to find the perfect gift for you you already have the perfect one hidden from him. Whose gift will be the best?

ᯓ★ TW(s): pregnancy

ᯓ★ To adapt the them to the request it isn't a secret santa so it'll be just a exchanging gifts kind of things

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Snow falls gently outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Stark Tower penthouse, each flake sparkling like tiny diamonds against the glow of New York City’s Christmas lights. Inside, the hum of J.A.R.V.I.S.’s automated systems and the faint strains of a holiday playlist create a cozy atmosphere. You’re lounging on the oversized couch, nestled under a throw blanket with a mug of peppermint hot chocolate warming your hands, your gaze occasionally drifting to the man who seems to embody the Christmas spirit this year.

Tony Stark is a whirlwind in the kitchen, entirely out of his natural habitat but utterly determined. He’s wearing a Santa hat that’s slightly askew, paired with an old, grease-stained AC/DC t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. His expression is one of laser focus as he uses an intricate set of tools — not culinary ones, mind you, but Stark-grade gadgets — to try and assemble what looks like a cookie cutter. The sight is simultaneously adorable and ridiculous, and you can’t help but smile as he mutters something under his breath about structural integrity and the optimal dough thickness.

“You know,” you tease, setting your mug down on the coffee table, “most people just buy cookie cutters. They don’t invent them.”

Tony looks up from his project, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, well, most people aren’t me, are they? If I’m going to make Christmas cookies for my amazing girlfriend, I’m going to do it right.”

You laugh, the sound echoing warmly through the room. “Cookies? Is that what you’re calling this… whatever this is?”

“This,” Tony says, holding up a vaguely star-shaped cutter with an air of triumph, “is engineering at its finest. And you, Ms. Skeptical, are going to eat the best Christmas cookies of your life.”

Your heart swells, the playful banter a familiar rhythm in your relationship. He’s been like this for weeks — uncharacteristically domestic and brimming with holiday cheer. You suspect it has something to do with the Christmas gift he’s been hinting at. Every time he tries to subtly ask you about what you might want, you see that telltale Stark gleam in his eye, the one that means he’s up to something.

Meanwhile, you’ve already decided on your gift for him. It’s sitting in a little box, tucked away in your closet, and every time you think about giving it to him, a wave of nervous excitement washes over you. It’s perfect, you’re sure of it, but it’s also a bombshell — the kind of gift that changes everything.

Tony’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Hey, you good? You’re smiling like you’ve got some secret.”

You grin, trying to play it cool. “Just enjoying the show. You’re surprisingly cute when you’re playing mad scientist with cookie cutters.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your sass, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Careful, or I might make you wear the Santa hat and help me. Equal partnership, remember?”

“Nice try, Stark, but you’re on your own for this one.” You stretch lazily, enjoying the way his eyes flicker to you, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I have my own holiday preparations to deal with.”

Tony narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Preparations, huh? Like what?”

“Like… wrapping your gift.”

His expression shifts instantly, from suspicion to unbridled curiosity. “You already got me something? Why didn’t you tell me? What is it? Is it a car? A private island? Oh my god, is it a pony?”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “Why would I get you a pony?”

“I don’t know!” Tony throws up his hands. “You’re unpredictable. That’s one of the things I love about you. You could totally be the kind of person who buys her billionaire boyfriend a pony just to mess with him.”

Shaking your head, you rise from the couch and walk over to him, slipping your arms around his waist. He smells like a mix of motor oil and peppermint, a strangely comforting combination. “You’ll just have to wait until Christmas morning like everyone else.”

He groans dramatically, leaning his forehead against yours. “But waiting is the worst.”

You laugh softly, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “You’ll survive.”

Tony pulls back, giving you that crooked grin that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “You’re lucky I’m crazy about you.”

“I know,” you say, kissing his cheek. “And for the record, I’m crazy about you too.”

The rest of the evening unfolds in a blur of laughter, cookie dough catastrophes, and a flour fight that leaves the kitchen looking like a snowstorm hit it. By the time you crawl into bed, Tony is already brainstorming ways to improve his cookie cutter design, his notebook balanced precariously on his lap.

As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but think about how much your life has changed since Tony came into it. He’s still the same brilliant, unpredictable man you fell in love with, but there’s a softer side to him now, one that he only shows to you. It’s a side that makes you even more excited about the future — a future that’s about to become even more chaotic, and infinitely more wonderful.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Christmas music playing softly in the background. Tony is already up, standing at the counter with his back to you, tinkering with something that looks suspiciously like a robotic arm holding a whisk. You smile, shaking your head at his endless creativity.

“Morning,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

He turns his head to look at you, his face lighting up. “Morning, gorgeous. Coffee’s on the counter.”

You grab your mug and take a sip, savoring the warmth. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Shopping,” he announces, spinning around to face you. “I’m on a mission to find the perfect gift for the perfect woman.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And who might that be?”

Tony smirks. “Funny. You might know her. Smart, beautiful, has an impeccable sense of humor. Bit of a troublemaker, though.”

You laugh, leaning against the counter. “Well, good luck with that. She sounds like she has pretty high standards.”

“Oh, she does,” Tony says, his expression softening. “But she’s worth it.”

Your heart melts a little, and you reach up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he quips, grabbing his coat. “Now, come on. Let’s go spread some holiday cheer — Stark style.”

The day is a whirlwind of activity. Tony drags you to every shop in Manhattan, insisting that he needs your input for “research purposes.” You play along, knowing full well that he’s trying to throw you off the scent of whatever he’s planning. At one point, he buys an absurdly oversized stuffed reindeer and insists on carrying it around for the rest of the day, much to the amusement of passersby.

By the time you make it back to the penthouse, your feet are aching, but your spirits are high. Tony collapses onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, the reindeer perched proudly next to him.

“That,” he declares, “was a successful mission.”

“Did you actually buy my gift, or was this just an excuse to act like a Christmas lunatic?” you ask, flopping down beside him.

“Both,” he admits, pulling you into his arms. “But mostly the gift thing. You’ll love it, I promise.”

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I’m sure I will.”

As you sit there together, surrounded by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the quiet hum of the city below, you realize that this is what you love most about the holidays. It’s not the gifts or the decorations — it’s the simple, joyful moments with the man you love.

And if everything goes according to plan, this Christmas will be one you’ll both remember for the rest of your lives.

The Stark Tower is unusually lively this morning, the energy of Christmas buzzing through its futuristic halls. Tony is in a festive yet frantic state, pacing the penthouse like a man on a mission. His hair is slightly tousled, his signature goatee impeccably groomed, but there’s an unmistakable panic in his eyes. In one hand, he clutches a tablet loaded with potential gift ideas — all of which he’s already rejected.

“I’ve got nothing,” he mutters to himself, collapsing onto the plush sofa. “Nothing! Billionaire genius, and I can’t even come up with a gift for my girlfriend. Pathetic.”

J.A.R.V.I.S., ever the voice of reason, chimes in. “Perhaps if you focused on what Ms. Y/N truly enjoys, sir, instead of cross-referencing gift lists from obscure online influencers—”

“Don’t start, J,” Tony cuts in, running a hand through his hair. “She’s already got everything. I mean, I got her that custom jet last year. How do you top a jet? You can’t just show up with…I don’t know…a fruit basket.”

“Fruit baskets do have their appeal,” J.A.R.V.I.S. responds with what could almost be sarcasm. “But perhaps the Avengers could provide some inspiration?”

Tony freezes mid-panic spiral. That’s not a terrible idea. Sure, it’s risky — the team isn’t exactly known for their emotional intelligence — but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Fine,” he says, springing to his feet. “Avengers assemble… into my gift crisis.”

Tony’s first stop is the gym, where Steve Rogers is predictably punching a bag that looks like it’s seen better days. Captain America, always dependable. Surely he’ll have a wholesome, foolproof idea.

“Cap!” Tony calls out, striding into the room. “I need your help.”

Steve turns, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Help with what?”

“Gift ideas for Y/N,” Tony explains. “You’re all about romance, right? Flowers, dances, old-school charm?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate.”

“Come on,” Tony pleads. “What would you get Peggy?”

Steve hesitates, clearly caught off guard. “Well… something meaningful. Like… a locket. Or a handwritten letter.”

Tony blinks. “A letter? Seriously? What am I, a 1940s soldier? This is Y/N we’re talking about.”

Steve shrugs. “You asked for my opinion.”

“Yeah, and I’m returning it for store credit.” Tony claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Cap. I’ll try not to let your advice tank the relationship.”

Steve sighs, going back to his punching bag. “Good luck.”

Next up is Natasha, who’s in the middle of yoga in one of the quieter rooms. Tony approaches cautiously, aware that interrupting her zen could be hazardous to his health.

“Nat,” he begins, leaning against the doorway. “I need a favor.”

She doesn’t even open her eyes. “Is this about Y/N’s gift?”

Tony gapes. “How did you—?”

“Because you’ve been pacing around the tower like a maniac all morning,” she replies coolly, finally sitting up and fixing him with a knowing look. “What do you have so far?”

“Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”

Natasha smirks. “And you want me to tell you what to get her.”

“Exactly!” Tony points at her like she’s just cracked the code to cold fusion. “You’re sharp. Observant. What’s the perfect gift?”

Natasha considers for a moment, then says, “Something personal. Handmade, maybe. You’re good with your hands.”

Tony grins, but before he can make a suggestive comment, she cuts him off with a glare. “Not like that. I mean something that shows how much you care. Jewelry, maybe. Or art.”

“Jewelry… art…” Tony mutters, pulling out his tablet. “Great, now I just have to learn how to sculpt in two days. Thanks, Romanoff.”

“Happy to help,” she says dryly, already returning to her yoga pose.

From there, Tony tries Clint, who’s stringing up Christmas lights in one of the communal areas. Clint’s advice is as chaotic as expected.

“Easy,” Clint says, perching precariously on a ladder. “Just get her a puppy. Chicks love puppies.”

Tony stares at him. “I am not bringing a dog into this tower.”

“Why not? Dogs are great. They’re cute, cuddly, and they make up for any shortcomings in the gift department.”

Tony rubs his temples. “I’m not trying to distract her from my shortcomings, Barton. I’m trying to impress her.”

“Suit yourself,” Clint shrugs, hanging a lopsided string of lights. “But don’t come crying to me when she says she wanted a golden retriever.”

Bruce is in the lab, predictably surrounded by gadgets and scientific equipment. Tony hopes the two of them can put their combined genius to work on this problem, but Bruce is far less helpful than anticipated.

“Maybe you could write her a song,” Bruce suggests, pushing up his glasses.

Tony stares at him. “Do I look like Taylor Swift?”

“I’m just saying, it’s heartfelt. You could compose it digitally if you don’t want to sing.”

“Banner, I love you like a brother, but I’m not serenading Y/N.”

Bruce shrugs. “Your loss. I think she’d like it.”

“Noted.” Tony sighs. “Back to the drawing board.”

Even Happy gets dragged into the chaos. Tony finds him downstairs, supervising the unloading of holiday supplies.

“Happy,” Tony says, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve known Y/N for years. What’s her ultimate Christmas gift?”

Happy looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “You want me to tell you what to get your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re asking me, the guy who drives you around?”

“Exactly.”

Happy shakes his head. “You’re hopeless, boss.”

Tony groans, throwing his hands in the air. “You people are useless!”

By the end of the day, Tony is no closer to a solution. He’s tried everyone — Sam, Bucky, even Thor, whose advice (“Forge her a hammer!”) was predictably unhelpful. He slumps onto the couch in the penthouse, utterly defeated.

“What if she hates it?” he mutters aloud. “What if it’s not enough?”

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interjects, “if I may offer a suggestion?”

Tony sighs. “What is it, J?”

“Perhaps the best gift you could give Ms. Y/N is a reflection of your relationship. Something that reminds her of the journey you’ve shared.”

Tony frowns, the gears in his mind turning. A reflection of their relationship… Suddenly, it clicks. His face lights up with realization, and he jumps to his feet.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., you’re a genius!” he exclaims. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

“I am programmed to be helpful, sir.”

Tony grins, already pulling out his tools and materials. He’s got a lot of work to do, but for the first time all day, he’s confident. This Christmas, he’s going to give Y/N something truly unforgettable. And if all else fails, well, there’s always next year’s puppy.

The workshop hums with activity as Tony works furiously on his latest project. He’s elbow-deep in wires and microchips, his face illuminated by the glow of holographic schematics projected in the air around him. His Santa hat sits forgotten on the workbench, replaced by his trusty welding goggles, and the upbeat carols playing in the background do little to mask his occasional muttered curses.

This gift has to be perfect. After his disastrous attempts at getting advice from the Avengers, Tony finally landed on an idea that feels right. It’s not about flashy extravagance or grand gestures this time. It’s about them — their inside jokes, their adventures, the little moments that have defined their relationship. The project is both ambitious and surprisingly sentimental, and it’s consuming every ounce of his focus.

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. pipes up, “Ms. Y/N has just returned from her errands. Should I inform her of your whereabouts?”

“No!” Tony yelps, nearly dropping a soldering iron. “I mean, no. Don’t tell her I’m down here. And don’t let her come in. This is classified.”

“As you wish, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replies. “Though I should point out that she may grow suspicious of your… absence.”

Tony pauses, chewing his lip. “Good point. I’ll head up for a bit. Cover for me if she asks anything.”

“As always, sir.”

Tony wipes his hands on a nearby cloth, tugs off his goggles, and makes his way upstairs. As the elevator doors slide open, the familiar scent of pine and cinnamon fills the air, and he spots you in the kitchen, arranging a tray of cookies with a focused determination that rivals his own.

“Hey, Peppermint,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What’s cookin’?”

You glance up, a playful smile curving your lips. “Cookies, obviously. You planning to swoop in and steal half of them before they cool?”

“Steal? Never.” He steps closer, the grin on his face equal parts mischief and charm. “I’m just here to, uh, supervise.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, clearly not buying it. “What’s the catch, Stark?”

He slides an arm around your waist, planting a kiss on your cheek. “No catch. Just missed you.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, setting the tray aside and turning to face him. “And this has nothing to do with trying to figure out what I got you for Christmas?”

Tony’s feigned innocence is laughable. “What? Me? No. I’m just an affectionate boyfriend who loves his girl and—”

“Tony.” Your tone is firm but amused. “You’re not getting it out of me.”

He groans dramatically, letting his head fall against your shoulder. “Come on, just give me a hint. A tiny clue. Like… does it have wheels? Or a remote control?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

Tony leans back, his hands coming up to cradle your face as his eyes search yours. “Okay, what if I said you’re the most brilliant, stunning, wonderful person in the universe?”

“Flattery won’t work.”

“Bribery?”

“Nope.”

“Kisses?” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a way that’s almost enough to make you forget what he’s after.

Almost.

You pull back, grinning. “Still no.”

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh of defeat, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“Consider it payback for all the times you’ve teased me with surprises.” You poke him lightly in the chest. “Now go find something else to obsess over.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, though his eyes sparkle with affection. “But this isn’t over.”

It’s definitely not over.

The next day, Tony launches a full-scale investigation. If you won’t spill the beans, maybe someone else will.

Thor is his first target. The Asgardian is lounging on the couch, a giant mug of hot chocolate in hand, as he admires the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. He looks every bit the picture of holiday contentment — until Tony plops down next to him with an unnerving grin.

“Hey, Big Guy,” Tony begins, his tone overly casual. “Enjoying the cocoa?”

Thor nods, his expression serene. “Indeed, Stark. This Midgardian drink is most delightful.”

“Great, great.” Tony leans in slightly. “So, uh… you’re pretty close with Y/N, right?”

Thor raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing an ulterior motive. “She is my dearest friend. Why do you ask?”

Tony shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, no reason. Just curious if she’s mentioned anything about, you know, Christmas gifts. Specifically mine.”

Thor chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. “You wish to uncover her secret.”

“Exactly!” Tony’s eyes light up with hope. “So spill. What did she get me?”

But Thor shakes his head, his amusement evident. “I swore an oath of silence, Stark. Y/N entrusted me with this knowledge, and I shall not betray her.”

Tony groans, flopping back against the couch. “Come on, Thor. Just a hint. A riddle. Morse code, even.”

“I cannot,” Thor replies firmly. “But take heart, my friend. I am certain you will be most pleased with her gift.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mutters. “Thanks for nothing, Thunderlord.”

Undeterred, Tony moves on to Sam and Bucky, who are bickering over whether or not Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie.

“Guys,” Tony interrupts, sliding into the seat between them. “Serious question: What did Y/N get me for Christmas?”

Sam snorts. “You think she told us?”

“Please,” Bucky adds, not even looking up from the screen. “Y/N knows we’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Exactly,” Tony says. “So if she did tell you, you’d crack by now. Which means she didn’t. Which means you’re useless to me.”

“Glad we cleared that up,” Sam deadpans.

Even Bruce, who’s usually patient enough to entertain Tony’s antics, is less than helpful.

“She didn’t tell me,” Bruce insists, adjusting his glasses. “And even if she did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do none of you understand the concept of loyalty?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Tony, if anyone here has loyalty to Y/N, it’s you. Why don’t you trust her gift will be amazing?”

Tony opens his mouth, then closes it. Bruce has a point. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less curious.

Back in his workshop that evening, Tony tinkers with his own project, trying to push thoughts of your gift from his mind. He’s almost finished now — just a few more adjustments, and it’ll be ready. As he assembles the final pieces, he thinks about all the moments that led up to this Christmas: your first date, the time you stayed up all night helping him debug a faulty suit, the way you make him laugh even on his worst days.

This gift isn’t just a present. It’s a thank you, a promise, and a celebration of everything you’ve built together.

And even though you’re driving him crazy with your secrecy, he knows one thing for certain: Whatever you’ve got planned, it’s going to be unforgettable.

With that thought, Tony sets down his tools, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He doesn’t need to know what your gift is — not yet. For now, he’s happy just knowing he has you.

Christmas morning in the Stark Tower is a scene straight out of a holiday movie. The enormous tree in the living room is aglow with lights, its base surrounded by neatly wrapped presents. Snow falls gently outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, a soft white backdrop for the festive chaos unfolding inside.

You’re curled up on the couch in your favorite pajamas, a mug of hot cocoa in hand. Tony, ever the big kid at heart, has already passed out Santa hats to everyone present, including himself. He wears his tilted at a jaunty angle as he lounges beside you, an arm slung around your shoulders.

“All right, folks!” he announces, clapping his hands together. “It’s showtime. Let’s get to the main event: gifts.”

The Avengers have gathered around the tree, a motley crew of holiday cheer (and mild bickering). Thor booms with laughter as he rips open a package containing a novelty hammer-shaped mug. Natasha smirks as she unwraps a sleek new set of throwing knives from Clint. Even Bruce looks delighted by his custom-designed science gadget from Sam.

But you and Tony? You’ve been waiting for this moment all morning, both of you teasingly delaying the exchange of your gifts.

“You first,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “I want to see what you’ve been hiding in that workshop of yours.”

Tony’s grin spreads wide, a mix of excitement and nerves. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, this one’s worth the wait.”

He reaches under the tree and pulls out a medium-sized box wrapped in shiny silver paper. Handing it to you with a flourish, he leans back to watch your reaction, his eyes sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning.

You tear into the wrapping paper eagerly, revealing a sleek wooden box with a brass clasp. Inside, nestled in velvet, is a handcrafted piece of art—a delicate, intricate snow globe. The base is engraved with your initials intertwined with his, and the scene inside is unmistakably Stark: a miniature version of you and Tony, standing arm in arm next to a scaled-down Iron Man suit, all framed by a sparkling winter wonderland.

Your breath catches. “Tony… this is…”

“There’s more,” he interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. “Shake it.”

You do, and as the snow swirls around, holographic lights within the globe flicker to life. Tiny projections play out in the air—a montage of your most cherished memories together, from your first date to lazy mornings in the penthouse, all culminating in a tiny glowing heart, just like the one in Tony’s arc reactor.

Tears well in your eyes, and you look up at him, overwhelmed. “Tony, this is… it’s perfect. It’s us.”

He smirks, brushing it off, but you can see the pride in his eyes. “I figured I’d go for something understated this year.”

You laugh, setting the globe carefully on the coffee table before launching yourself into his arms. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

“I know,” he quips, pulling you into a kiss that’s soft and sweet. “Merry Christmas, Peppermint.”

The rest of the room groans at the display, but neither of you notice.

“Okay,” Tony says after a moment, clearly eager now. “Your turn. Let’s see what my genius, gorgeous girlfriend came up with.”

You grin, your nerves suddenly kicking in as you grab the box you’ve been hiding behind the tree. It’s wrapped in festive red paper, topped with a glittery bow.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him. “Be careful. It’s… uh… delicate.”

Tony narrows his eyes playfully. “Delicate? What did you get me, a Fabergé egg?”

“Just open it,” you reply, your heart pounding.

He takes his time unwrapping it, deliberately dragging out the suspense until you swat his arm. Finally, he pulls off the lid, revealing a soft, tiny onesie folded neatly on top. It’s bright red and gold, designed to mimic his Iron Man suit, with “Iron Baby” written across the front in bold letters.

Tony stares at it for a beat, then looks up at you, brow furrowed. “Uh… is this for… like, a doll? Or are you suggesting I start a baby clothing line?”

You can’t help but laugh nervously. “Keep going,” you urge, gesturing toward the box.

Still confused, Tony sets the onesie aside and peeks beneath it. There, tucked beneath a layer of tissue paper, are the ultrasound pictures.

He picks up the first one, his eyes narrowing as he examines it. The confusion melts away in stages—first to realization, then to shock, and finally to an overwhelming wave of emotion. He freezes, his hand trembling slightly as he holds the image.

“Wait,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Is this… are you…?”

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”

For a moment, he’s completely speechless. His mouth opens and closes as he looks from you to the pictures and back again. When the tears come, he tries to hide them by rubbing his eyes, but there’s no stopping the emotion that floods his face.

“Oh, my God,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod again, smiling through your own tears. “Surprise.”

Tony lets out a choked laugh, setting the pictures carefully back in the box before pulling you into his arms. He holds you so tightly it’s as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“You made my gift look miserable,” he mumbles against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t compete with this. This is… this is everything.”

“You don’t have to compete,” you whisper back, your arms wrapped around his neck. “This is our everything.”

When he finally pulls back, his face is lit up with a joy you’ve never seen before. He looks at the pictures again, then at you, then back at the onesie, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says, more to himself than anyone else. “Holy—wow. This might be the best day of my life.”

You laugh, wiping at your tears. “You think you’re ready for this?”

Tony grins, his trademark cockiness shining through even as his voice trembles. “Are you kidding? I’m Iron Man. I was born ready.”

He pauses, then adds, “Although, uh, maybe I should baby-proof the workshop.”

The two of you laugh, and when Tony pulls you in for another kiss, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just you, him, and the tiny new adventure waiting for you both.

“Merry Christmas, Peppermint,” he whispers against your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Tony.”

[mysticgalsworld]

swept away pt.2

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on pt 1 !! i’m so happy to continue this story for all you lovely ppl.. also just a reminder i take requests !! (special shoutout to angelikaschischi for requesting this specifically 😋) anyways pls enjoy lovelies 💕

pairing: hugh jackman x cleaning lady f! reader

summary: after getting a job at a cleaning company as a maid, you’re surprised to find out that the house you’re cleaning for belongs to the Hugh Jackman..

content warnings: fluff, angst, f! reader, maternal role, cursing, hospital, mental illness, power imbalance, slow burn?, not spellchecked

parts: 1, 2

The car ride to the small headquarters of Pristine Cleaning Co. was long. Your knuckles grip the steering wheel tensely, white emerging from the force of your grip.

“I don’t want to accuse you, but what am I suppose to think?” His vicious words cut back into your memory and your foot presses on the gas to go faster.

The squeak of a giggle behind you rings in your ears as you look behind you. The small toddler grabs her own foot in the carrier. Looking at her, you sigh, allowing the tension from your body to exit.

The roundness of her cheeks distract you from your memories and force you to look at her from the rear view mirror. Her finger comes out suddenly with a small whine as she points to the busted radio.

“The radio?” you ask her, not expecting an understandable response. You press the knob, waiting a bit before a slight sound comes out. It’s scratchy and distorted, but after harshly smacking the top of the dashboard, it clears up.

Alicia Keys’ voice comes out slightly muffled, but to the gummy grin of the toddler behind you, she doesn’t seem to mind.

You closed the banged up door of the old sedan before opening the back and grabbing the baby carrier. Slamming the door, you make your way into the modern building of the Pristine Cleaning Co.

Even though you would rather chop your head off than take another step, you continue. Adjusting your attire, you knock on the small office door and wait. The silence on the other side is as unnerving as the first time you did your interview, but you stand taller.

“Come in.” a smooth voice answers from the other side. Picking up the carrier from the floor, you push open the door slowly before putting on a trepidatious smile on your face.

The woman’s eyes flicker up to you from her paper calendar. She adjusts her framed black glasses before looking down at the carrier and back to your face. “Y/N. Have a seat.”

With her tone, you have to force the saliva to not gulp down your throat as you sit. Thankfully the toddler is too entranced with grasping at the bows in her hair to make any noise.

The room is almost completely silent, saving for the heavy breathing from the child, the automated air conditioning blowing softly into the office, and the heavy sound of keys clicking as she continues to type.

To save you both from the awkwardness of the half-silent room, you speak. “Miss Wong. I was wondering if you have considered finding a replacement for Mr. Jackman’s house?”

She starts, pausing to look thoughtfully at you, resting her manicured fingers on the desk in front of her.

“Mr. Jackman?” Her voice is boarder line sharp as she asks the question. Shit. You were supposed to be “silent, thorough, and unnoticeable” not aware of the residents who lived there.

You swallow softly before meeting her eyes. “I saw a picture on the dresser. So I assumed..” Her eyebrows raise before she sighs, a sound so strangely unlike her you almost shiver.

“Your job is to clean, not to assume. But we have attempted to find a replacement cleaner for his house, yes.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly, hands making slight fists under the table as you process her vague sentence. You nervously glance up at her, urging your voice to exude professionalism.

“Attempted? After my last cleaning I had hoped to switch his house for the one near Rosemount Grove..”

Miss Wong nods, acknowledging your words. Her gaze remains fixated on you, expression unreadable. The silence stretches on for a few more seconds before she finally responds.

“Yes, attempted. Unfortunately, we have been unsuccessful in finding a replacement cleaner. All our other cleaners at this moment have their hands full with their assigned clients.”

She leans back in her chair, her manicured fingers drumming lightly on the stack of papers in her desk.

“I’m afraid I can’t reassign you, Y/N. It’s either this house or nothing.”

Your hands begin to sweat against your pants as you look at the toddler, now completely passed out. Your voice comes out soft as your gaze is stuck to the sleeping toddler.

“I suppose you’ll call him?” With a wavering voice you think of how much this job means. Without it, you don’t know where you would be.

Pushing up her thick framed glasses, Miss Wong continues to type. She watches silently as you look down at the sleeping toddler, a flicker of understanding passing through her usually stoic expression. She nods slightly, acknowledging your statement and the implications it holds.

“I’ll call him,” she confirms, her voice as poised as ever. “But Y/N?”

Your eyes flash to her, searching for a hint of her next words, but her gaze is already back to the computer screen. Professionalism oozing from her tone, she tries to hide her concern. “The kid won’t be a problem, will it?”

Rapidly shaking your head, you wonder if she even sees it from her typing. “No, Valerie stays with my parents during the cleanings. Not an issue at all..”

She nods imperceptibly, her head barely moving. You move to stand, grabbing carrier from beside you. “Thanks Miss Wong, have a nice day.” She glances at you once more, her eyes drifting back down to the carrier before you exit, but saying nothing.

Once in your car, you try to start it. The engine stalls slightly but you try again, making a mental note to get it checked out. The car starts with a low stammer and you finally leave.

When you enter the familiar open house, your breath catches in your throat. Opening the door with your key, you beg to some higher power that he sent the company the correct days he wouldn’t be here.

Wiping your sweaty hand on the thighs of your worn jeans, you start. As it was before, you start with the kitchen. Then you go to the living room, basking in the peaceful silence surrounding the house.

The creak of the front door knocks you out from your trance while dusting. Heavy steps enter the home and as you turn to look, you see the man you were hoping to avoid.

Hugh Jackman’s tall, muscular figure steps through the front door, filling up the space with his mere presence. His eyes scan the living room, taking in your figure as you stand frozen in the middle of dusting.

At first, his expression is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and slight regret. But then it softens slightly as his gaze roams over you, noticing how skittish you seem at his unexpected entrance.

“Oh, hello...” His voice is gravelly, and his steps slower as he moves further into the room.

You nod in response to his greeting, you face no longer cracking professional smiles when you see him.

To you, his face is a reminder of those fucking words. “I don’t want to accuse you, but what am I suppose to think?” Because that’s all he thought you were. A thief. A criminal.

The words replay in your brain. They taunt you. In the morning, in the silence of a car ride, in your nightmares.

Turning away, you continue to dust. Hoping that your brushing him off would’ve given him the hint, you are surprised to hear his weight shift as he continues to stand in front of the door.

Now you drop the duster, going to pick up the vacuum. In your peripheral you can see his mouth open to speak, regret so clear on his face. But instead of listening, you crank the vacuum to the highest setting and hope he gets the hint.

He pauses for a moment, watching your dismissive behavior with a mixture of guilt and frustration on his face. Realizing you were purposefully avoiding his attempts to talk, his brow furrows and his tone sharpens slightly.

“Y/N. I need to talk to you.” His tone seems regretful as he slightly raises his voice to talk over the vacuum. You see him out of your peripheral, hands on his hips as he stands there in his sweaty workout clothes.

Instead of acknowledging him, you turn with the vacuum, pretending to not have heard him.

Seeing you ignore him makes him breathe out a heavy sigh before placing a hand over his face in frustration. “Y/N, please! I need to apologize…”

Lowering the vacuum, you turn to him absentmindedly. “I’m not supposed to talk to you…” you respond, devoid of any warmth.

His frown deepens at your words, his shoulders sagging slightly in disappointment. “I know that. But I need to talk to you…”

Turning off the vacuum abruptly, a sudden silence engulfs the room. You turn to him with your arms crossed. You raise your eyebrows with calm anger, hoping to urge him on.

He swallows, his accent sounding gravelly with his low tone. “I’m sorry.”

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, you almost laugh. The two words you dreamed about hearing finally coming out of his mouth and they don’t feel like enough.

Instead of responding you grab a cloth, starting to wipe down the coffee table. Behind you, he clears his throat. “Y/N.”

You turn to him, the dirty cloth still in your hand. With a tone oozing professional indifference, you start. “I have nothing to say sir. Please let me finish my job and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“I can’t. I need you to know how sorry I am. I really messed up and I apologize.” He starts to pace slowly, the scene strangely mirroring the situation he was apologizing for.

He continues, his voice rising slightly in regret. “I mean—the second you found the watch behind the dresser I felt like an fucking idiot.”

You giggle slightly at he starts to ramble out his apology. Suddenly your old phone starts to ring. Shit. You keep it on silent and only emergency calls actually ring.

You mumble a quick sorry to him before picking up. Glancing down rapidly at your phone, you answer. Hugh sees this and stops, wondering why you looked stressed as you answer the phone.

Your brows furrow as the person on the phone speaks. “What? Is she okay?” Breathing more heavily, you listen to the other side. “The hospital!” Your voice raises before you mumble a quiet “fuck” under your breath.

Ending the call with a “I’ll be right there,” you rush to pack up your things, leaving a very confused Hugh.

When you say “the hospital” Hugh’s heart drops for you. A sense of dread fills him when he sees you pack your things with panicked movements.

“What’s going on?” His voice exudes authority as he commands an explanation. Your head already feels like it’s about to explode and trying to explain the situation to him may make your head literally melt off. With a rushed sigh, you brush your messy hair off of your forehead. “I’m sorry sir, I have to go to the hospital. So I can’t finish the cleaning today.”

Hugh watches your stressed mannerisms, his mind racing with unanswered questions. He feels a pang of concern, and his brows furrow as he looks at you.

"Ok that’s completely fine.” With that, you nod and head towards the front door with a jog. Once outside you run to your old, beat-up car. Unbeknownst to you, Hugh stands in the front doorway, watching as you rush to leave.

Turning the key, you pray to any higher power that your car starts. It spudders with a low dying sound and you could almost laugh. Of course this happens at the worst possible fucking time. You try again, getting the same result and sighing.

In frustration, you bang your head against the steering wheel, tears fighting to fall. A hard knock against the window startles you as you look up. Hugh stares with furrowed brows as you open the car door. “Need a ride?” His smooth voice almost acts like a buey in this moment.

“Please…” You hurriedly follow him to his silver Audi Q7. Not used to the luxury car, you hesitate but think back to why you need to ride with him in the first place. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Which hospital?” Your breath catches as you think, “Uh—Rosemount Community Hospital.” With a nod he drives, a solemn expression on his face.

The drive was silent. As soon as the car came to a stop, you hopped out. Rushing through the glass doors of the community hospital, you ask the lady at the front desk for the room number.

Hugh follows, not wanting to leave you here at the hospital alone. He knows he hates the smell of hospitals, the place where death and life meet, and wonders what you think. Do you like hospitals? Do you find them comforting? Or a bad omen?

Following you to the room, he can’t hide his surprise when you open the door to a small toddler sitting with an older woman.

“Valerie…” Your voice whispers softly and you go to cradle the toddler who now has a bright green cast on her tiny leg. You turn to the older woman, your expression becoming venomous as you grit out,“What happened?”

The older woman splutters in surprise at your tone before crossing her arms. “I was making lunch. She wanted to sit on the counter so I let her, but she started to climb. I turned around for one second��once second and she fell…”

Your face reddens as you breathe deeply. Your normal calm anger transpiring into a red-hot fit of rage. Hugh, still stuck in a state of confusion and shock from seeing the toddler, glances curiously at your expression. “Mom, you can’t do that. She’s a baby, she can’t even walk yet… She shouldn’t even be on the counter in the first place.” With a sigh, you put a hard on your tired face while picking up the giggly toddler.

“Just—can you get the doctor please, Mom?” You sit with Valerie in your arms, watching as your mom leaves the room. Almost disassociating, you stare at the stark white tile before Hugh speaks up.

“Is that your daughter?” His voice seems curious and a little shaken. You aren’t really old, maybe mid 20s. Clearing your throat slightly, you still hold your gaze to the tile. “No.. she’s my little sister. My mom has early onset Alzheimer’s and usually my dad is there to help take care of her.”

Hugh feels his heart drop slightly at your response, a pang of sympathy filling him as he to you. His eyes flicker to the little girl sitting snugly on your lap, who is still giggling obliviously.

Nodding slowly, he takes in the weight of your words before speaking quietly. “I'm sorry about your mom—that’s horrible. And your dad?"

You shrug your shoulders casually, your expression blank and disappointed. Valerie brings you out of your the thoughts, her small hand getting stuck in the bottom of your hair. With a smile, you glance to her face. Chubby cheeks, stubby baby teeth, and the soft tufts of her hair remind you of who you’re doing this for.

Clearing your throat, you look to Hugh, who’s now standing in the corner. “Thank you…” Your voice comes out in a whisper, almost as if you are afraid to say them louder.

His eyes widen for a moment, his heart clenching at the almost timid tone in your voice. He swallows deeply, feeling his throat grow dry as he responds.

"Don't mention it..."

You laugh softly as you think of your piece of crap car sitting dead in the front of his nice house. With a small sigh, you realize having to get it fixed will eat into your already minimal savings.

Pulling out your phone, you call a tow truck company to pick up the car and take it to the shop. Hugh just watches as you do this, a little confused because he was more than willing to do it for you. While you’re on the phone, your mom comes back with the doctor in tow.

Immediately, you end the call and give your attention to the doctor as he explains that Valerie’s leg is broken, but will heal nicely after a couple months. You breathe out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding and thank the doctor for his time.

Turning to Hugh, your voice comes out strong. “Thank you, Mr. Jackman. For everything… I’ll see you next week.” You almost miss the slight frown at your professional use of his name, but you don’t. Turning to walk out of the room with Valerie in your arms and your mom on your heels, you give him one last smile as you go.

The next week goes smoothly. Continuing your routine, you start with the kitchen. As you start to organize the refrigerator, you hear the heavy steps of Hugh entering. Instead of his normal sweaty workout clothes, you’re almost surprised to see him in comfy clothes.

He gives you a smile before continuing to the coffee machine. Without turning around, his voice rings out above the soft hum of your music. “Coffee?”

Instead of answering, you walk to the cupboard and pull out two mugs. He watches as you place them next to the machine, a small smile on your face. The hint of domesticity from making coffee shocks both of you, so you retreat back to the fridge.

He pours the coffee and approaches you at the fridge with both cups in his hands. Your pinky brushes against his as you grasp the ceramic mug. A buzz of electricity shoots through your arm as you revel in the warmth of it. In a daze, you whisper a thank you before picking out the creamer and offering it to him. He takes it with a smile, happy that you are no longer ignoring him.

Taking a sip, you bask in the rich taste before Hugh’s voice pulls you out of your focus. “How’s Valerie?” Almost completely forgetting that he was at the hospital with you, you clear your throat surprised. You don’t know what surprises you more, the fact that he remembers her name or actually cares about how she’s doing.

“She’s fine—finally getting use to the cast.” I take another sip of my coffee, choosing to keep my gaze on the island between us. He nods in my peripheral, his voice coming out to give a small “That’s good.”

The silence is somewhat awkward and somewhat comfortable, but he decides to break it. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never accused you.”

Nodding, you take in his words. You focus on the deep rumble of regret in his voice, the emotion of it making his accent come out stronger. “I’m not a thief. I just—I can’t lose this job.” Your voice comes out almost desperate. You could curse at the small wobble that comes out as you bite through the words. Afraid to look him in the eye after your words, you set the mug down and go back to reorganizing the fridge.

You can feel his eyes stuck on you, the feeling of it curious and prodding. You continue, picking up the condiments and reorganizing them.

“My father gave me that watch.” The words are so sudden and soft, it shocks you. Your shoulders deflate as you unravel the tension from your earlier words. You turn slowly, mouth open to say something but he stops you. “—That’s why I was so upset… He passed a couple years ago and I wear that watch to—uh remember him, I guess.”

The soft and somewhat solemn expression on his face takes you off guard. Even though he is looking down at the counter in remembrance, you almost feel like the atmosphere is staring down into your soul.

“Mr. Jackman…” you start. He interrupts, holding up a hand, “—Hugh, please.” Nodding, you play with the handle of your mug as you watch him. “Hugh, I’m so sorry.. I shouldn’t have been so defensive and—”

Your mouth opens to explain more, your fear and hatred of people not treating you as a human with thoughts, maybe even your fear of losing this job, but he stops you. He stops you from your unnecessary groveling. “None of it was your fault. I was just stressed and upset and I took it out on you… I’m the one who’s sorry…”

With a nod and a small smile, you listen. Really listen—to everything; his voice, his words, and the soft gravel of his accent. “It’s okay…” With a nod and soft smile, toeing the boarder of friendship, you turn and go back to the fridge.

The following week, the smiles only grow. Instead of telling your company the dates he won’t be there, it seems that every time you come to clean he “accidentally” keeps running into you. When you are cleaning the kitchen, he decides that is the perfect time to have his midafternoon cup of coffee. Or when you’re cleaning his bedroom, he needs to grab things that he coincidentally forgets to bring downstairs.

And the notes reappear too. Silly doodles with swirls and faces conjoined with encouraging notes of admiration. And every time, they make your day. Even when your morning has taken a turn for the worse.

Like this morning Valerie decided now was the time to try to take her cast off by herself. You sigh exhausted as you remember the wails and cries of pain from the itching she had under the cast this morning.

Even with your face and body exhausted, the neon brightness of a colored note sticking to the TV screen brings a soft smile to your face. You pull it softly off the dark screen and pull it closer to your tired eyes to read.

“Coffee?” It’s covered in zigzags, smiley faces, and a badly-drawn cup of coffee, but yet you still feel your feet pulling to the kitchen.

Moving to the kitchen, you are shocked to see Hugh sitting at the countertop with a puzzle, a steaming cup of coffee in his own hand and another in the seat beside him. With a tired smile you greet him, a casual “Hey Hugh” coming from your lips.

He glances up from the puzzle, a pair of reading glasses and a concentrated smile on his face. For a second you glance down to his lips, drawn in a concentrated pout from the puzzle. But still he greets you warmly, the pout disappearing in an instant, replaced with a warm smile.

You take the counter seat next to him, sipping your coffee and watching as he continues his puzzle. Small conversation flows easily, you focused on the coffee and him on the puzzle.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he focuses on his next question. “And Valerie? How’s her leg?” Your shoulders sag as you sigh with exhaustion. “She wasn’t doing too well this morning, her leg itches a lot but she can’t verbalize it yet so I basically just have to guess.”

Hugh nods, his lips pursing together as he thinks. “God, that sounds tiring. I know when my kids were younger it helped if I distracted them with things they liked.” He shrugs casually as he suggests for you to try it. You nod, taking in the information before taking another sip of your coffee.

Raising the mug to your lips, a piece of the puzzle stands out to you from your peripheral vision. Timidly, you slide the piece over to him, noticing it’s the one he’s missing. The appreciative smile he gives you could light up a room as he slides the puzzle to fit in between you both.

Knowing that you company wouldn’t approve, you have so many things that need to be done, and are a complete hot mess, you work on the puzzle with him.

You find it peaceful. Another taste of the domesticity you could have if you just let yourself be swept away.

a/n: hey lovelies !! as always, let me know what you think and whether or not you want me to continue with a part three.. i’m hoping to update a least once a week, but sometimes it may be more or it may be less (also pls lmk if you have any requests) anyways, love you guys 💕

[thelawfulchaotic]

This is a summary of how court cases go. Partly inspired from posts about recent events that show me just how much the general public doesn't know about what happens after arrest and before prison (or acquittal).

Warning: Much of this is specific to my state. Not even just my country: my state! I've tried here and there to mention other ways things are done, but I have almost ten years of experience in this one and approximately zero in any other.

Part 1: How Cases Begin/"Investigation"

One question seems to come up a lot in true crime cases. That question is: why are the police so bad at this? Why didn't they canvass the scene? Why didn't they get witnesses? Why didn't they (insert incredibly basic investigative step here)?

Sorry to bust your bubble, but police rarely do any actual investigating. Cases most commonly begin in the following ways.

1: Case directly reported to police. There are several different types of this. The most common two are via 911 call and via citizen report (i.e., coming into the police station to report a crime). However, in recent years, we've seen the rise of automated reporting of certain crimes via social media companies, most famously with regards to child sex abuse material. The police will simply get a report that x IP address accessed/shared/downloaded Y image at Z time.

2: Traffic stop. The police saw a car committing a minor traffic violation (ran a red light, headlights out, failed to come to a complete stop at a stop sign, changed lanes without signalling, etc.) and they stopped it. They found a pretext or got "permission" to search the car from the driver (who likely did not really know they could refuse). Or they got a drug dog to run around the car. (Drug dogs are not nearly as accurate as people think they are; overwhelmingly drug dogs respond to the signals of their handler and not the presence of drugs. I can cite studies if requested.)

3: Narcotics investigation. This is a distant third, but worth mentioning because it's probably the most proactive that most police departments get on a regular basis. They will have undercover officers or informants do controlled buys of narcotics on video, meticulously documented before and after. They take a level of care with this type of investigation otherwise only really reserved for the most violent felonies.

This all isn't to say that cases can't come up any other way. Sometimes police departments really do just do long-term investigations of things. Mostly, I find, they spend so much time picking the low-hanging fruit (guy who had drugs on traffic stop, yelling drunk homeless person) that the more complex and complicated cases just get dropped.

—

What happens next?

Next, the police are supposed to investigate. Gather evidence? Talk to people?

This is going to be disappointing to many people as well, but police tend to do the absolute minimum necessary investigation to establish the case and get a conviction, then pass it over to the prosecution. This is even if there are leads and suspects they haven't cleared. They'll just leave that kind of thing out of the final report, unless the defense comes specifically nosing around.

Let me give a few specific examples.

Example 1: 911 call for assault and battery. Officers arrive to find that two brothers absolutely beat the ever-loving shit out of each other at grandma's funeral. Brother 2 has left. Brother 1 remains. The police talk to Brother 1, who has a broken nose. Brother 1 fully blames the aggression on Brother 2, claiming that Brother 2 attacked him unprovoked and broke his nose. Brother 2's wife backs him up. The police, having gotten two witnesses saying one version of events, bring a malicious wounding charge without ever having spoken to Brother 1. A different officer serves Brother 1's arrest warrant and does not interrogate him in any way.

This is not unusual. Once the officers have found enough to arrest one person, often the last thing they want to do is generate more work for themselves by then finding a reason the case isn't so simple and easy. That would mean they then have to talk to many more people, examine evidence, and make a decision as to who the "primary aggressor" was, which will require a judgment call. Meanwhile, their extra investigation has just made it easier for the defense to win at a trial later on, because now the defense has loads of helpful info. They helped the “bad guys” by doing their job better. Can y’all see why an officer wouldn’t even bother? Would just go on to the next easy case instead of staying late and tracking down another witness?

In my past assault and battery cases, it has been just about as common for officers to have spoken to both parties as it was for officers to have only spoken to one party.

Example 2: Reported Property Damage. Girlfriend walks into a police station and says "my boyfriend broke my phone." (In my jurisdiction, a person can just walk straight in front of a judge, swear that what they said was true, and the judge will issue an arrest warrant. This is not true in all jurisdictions and is in fact completely fucking buck wild.) Police ask her a couple questions, look at the phone, bring a warrant, it's done. Maybe they call the boyfriend and ask him what happened. This is most likely the extent of the investigation.

You notice both of these are incredibly low-effort cases that result in easy arrests and immediate prosecutions. Wow, could that help an officer’s statistics? Could it actually hurt his stats if he takes longer and does a better job?

–

Okay, what happens now? The police have a suspect, they (in theory) know what happened.

Next, police seek an arrest warrant.

This involves going before a judge and swearing that there's probable cause to believe that their suspect committed their crime as alleged.

1: The Affidavit. There are very few rules for what they can and can't say in these affidavits to get their search warrants. Police officers can attest/swear to things that other police officers saw, because of "imputed knowledge." They can quote witnesses. They can decline to identify informants, as long as they say that their informant has a history of being reliable. (They do not have to provide any evidence of that history.)

They don't have to include all the facts. They don't have to include facts that contradict their version of events. They're not supposed to lie, but sometimes these affidavits are not provided to defense counsel and are sealed, so the defense can't even find out later what they said. And they can shop around for judges who are the most friendly. If one judge says "no," they can try another.

On top of that, all they have to show is "probable cause." Nobody is willing to put a percentage likelihood on "probable cause," but places tend to agree to things like: if there are four guys in a car and you find drugs where all four could reach it, you have probable cause for all four. It's not that you probably did it. It's more than a suspicion that you did it. In my experience, "probable cause" means that there's literally any reason to believe that this person might have actually done this thing.

2: No-Knock Warrants. The media has made a big deal these days of no-knock warrants and nighttime "warrant service." These are when the police bust into someone's house without announcing themselves, at night, in order to take everyone by surprise. This is horrendously dangerous! And yet, police seem to crave it. They get really, really mad when anyone tries to take it away.

My jurisdiction banned arrest warrants after dark, but didn't do the same for search warrants. Guess when all search warrants seem to get served? Goddamn midnight, that's when.

Furthermore, police seem to be able to request exceptions to the no-knock, daytime only rules. Recently, I saw a case where that exception was granted for the following reason: "drugs can be consumed or sold with great speed so might not be there in the morning." Okay, cool, if that's a good enough reason to dispense with the knock-in-the-daytime requirement for one case, that means that literally every other drug case qualifies for dispensing with that requirement too.

3: When to serve the warrant? After business hours on a Friday, obviously. That means that the person they arrest will be in holding over the whole weekend before getting to see a judge on Monday. That's like forty-eight extra hours of jail time, in which they won't have a lawyer, for police to visit them and try and pressure them into confessing, or just intimidate them into feeling like shit.

4: What happens when warrant is served? The suspect is arrested in whatever they were wearing, sometimes allowed to grab phone and wallet but sometimes not for reasons I can't even attempt to explain, they are driven to the jail, and they are processed in. They then wait until they can see a judicial officer to hear about the question of bond. But that's the subject of the next post!

See tomorrow for information on bail, bond, pretrial supervision, counsel at first appearance, and why it all matters. Edit: Bail and pretrial post here.