#Tears Will Soak The Motherboard

[rebellicnrising]

➶ DID YOU SEE THEM ?! they’re finally back as a MENTOR , and you know they’re one of my favourites ! it’s VOLTAIRE “VOLT” OWENS , the THIRTY-FIVE year old WINNER of the SEVENTY-SEVENTH hunger games! i’m just so excited to see them returning to the capitol all the way from DISTRICT THREE! they won their games using TRAPS AND HELP FROM SPONSORS so their tributes will no doubt be desperate for their wisdom. the capitol just loved them for being so SINCERE , even if they have been known to be SELF-DEPRECATING at times. they DO have a relative in this years games ( niece ) and they DID volunteer to go into the arena with them . ( character IS part of the uprising )

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: voltaire owens nicknames: volt age: thirty-five birthday: july 13th zodiac: cancer district: three gender: cis male pronouns: he / him orientation: bisexual profession: factory worker, tribute, mentor, craftsman horologist ( clockmaker )

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: andrew garfield hair color: tawny brown eye color: brown height: 5'10" scars: several small silvery scars across his fingers and hands, a scar at his temple that dimples when he smiles, an amputation scar just below his left knee. 

RELATIONSHIPS

father: arin owens ( deceased ) mother: thalia owens ( deceased ) siblings: violet owens ( younger sister, deceased ) extended family: elianna “ellie” owens ( niece, reaped for the 94th games )  significant other: tba

TRIBUTE DETAILS

reaped/volunteered: reaped reaped age: 18 victor of the: 77th hunger games weapon of choice: traps arena: underground cave system kill count: four token: great- grandfather’s pocket watch

EXTRA

mbti: infp-t ( the mediator ) temperament: phlegmatic - sanguine  moral alignment: lawful neutral primary vice: wrath primary virtue: kindness element: water

BACKSTORY

ʜᴇʏ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢʙɪʀᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜱᴀᴅ, ꜱᴀᴅ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ

your first breath is clogged with smog, born in the factory district. it’s never quiet and your small ears learn to drown out the noise early, lulled to sleep more often than not to the sounds of production that surround you and the cluster of matchbox apartments stacked haphazardly on top of each other where you grow up. both of your parents work in The Factory though it’ll be years before you know what that means and you’re left with a neighbor who keeps other children in your building- too many for the cramped apartment- for parents who also work at The Factory. by the time your earliest memories start to form, your parents leave a baby sister with you at the neighbor’s and the neighbor lady tells you that you’ll start school soon but mommy and daddy say you have to look after the baby sister and this causes you some distress-- you’ve never been a fan of change. the day that mommy doesn’t leave you with the baby sister but instead walks you down the stairs of the apartment and down the street, you throw a fit-- and mommy tries to tell you that you have to be a big boy, that you’re going to school to learn and become so smart but this only upsets you more and you fight until her hand swats at your bottom and her voice grows stern. you start school with teary eyes and a reluctant heart.

but it doesn’t last long because you find that you love school. you love the teacher and the routine- how every day has the same schedule- and the world that she opens with letters and numbers. you’re exceptionally bright, a sponge that soaks up every ounce of knowledge made available until you start to grow and some of the knowledge presented bores you; there are other things that you would find more interesting. you find that you love working with your hands- a puzzler, as dad says when he brings home defunct motherboards from The Factory ( you learn that’s what mom and dad do all day: they build these pieces that power all sorts of things ) that you tear apart with curiosity and put back together in concentration.

you don’t know anyone in the district who doesn’t suffer from a persistent cough but dad’s cough gets worse and there’s no money for medicine and in an urban district, herbal remedies cost even more than medicine that trickles down from the capitol. soon, he can’t go to work, hardly able to keep drawing breath through lungs that rattle and wheeze and mom is almost never home, trying to pick up more shifts at The Factory to make ends meet while your father drowns on his own air in the bed. you’re fourteen when your father stops breathing and his ashes sit in a small wooden box on the table beside the bed he died in and mom works herself ragged because she doesn’t want you to leave school-- says you’re smart enough to do more, to work in the glass buildings deeper in the district’s center and that she doesn’t want you to end up stuck at the factory like her and dad. you take out tesserae for yourself and violet that year, the baby sister who’s not a baby anymore but still too young for the factory herself but mom works herself to the brink of exhaustion and it’s still barely making ends meet. 

you take your father’s place on the line at The Factory, thin fingers nimbly assembling the motherboards you had been taking apart and putting together since you were six. mom resents the fact that you walk to work together and they’re spent mostly in silence; you’re not sure if she resents you for walking with her or herself for the same. you keep taking out tesserae for yourself and for violet; you don’t let her take out any and every year on reaping day you hold your breath until the names are called, exhaling in relief when each year, you pass by unscathed. it would be the cruelest of ironies that the last year you’re forced to stand and be counted is when your name is called. your mother and sister both weep, clinging to you when the peacekeepers drag you towards the train; the last thing your mother tells you before the doors close is that she’s sorry. 

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ᴅʏɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ

your district partner is one of your sister’s friends, a 16 year old named piper-- you know her and it’s so easy to replace her face with violet’s and when she cries on the way to the capitol, you wrap an arm around her shoulders and offer comfort. there’s too many reminders that only one of you can win but it’s a fact you ignore; you don’t have any grand ideas of getting out and you’re sure it’s wishful thinking that she’ll get out either but in the meantime, it doesn’t mean that mindset has to follow you. you force yourself into optimism- for both of you- trying to make each step of this process easier for her and in a way, yourself. you have no strategy at first; your hands aren’t used to the weight and balance of the weapons that line the walls or against stands scattered around the training room-- you end up making a complete fool of yourself on your first day for even daring to touch them. the lists of flora and fauna may as well be an alien language to you; you hadn’t even seen grass before the train pulled away from district three. the ropes course comes easier- you’ve had plenty of experience climbing and walking across narrow scaffolding to work on pieces of machinery that created the pieces that you assembled- and it seems like a glimmer of hope. when you present to the gamemakers though, they’re less impressed with your displays as you’d hope-- you leave with a score equal to your district: 3. 

but you shine in the interview. pipes had been nervous, so afraid of all the faces in the crowd and caesar’s too wide smile and outlandish appearance so you tell her ( and yourself ) that it’s nothing to be afraid of: it’s just a conversation with an old friend. hadn’t they all grown up watching caesar flickerman from birth? and that’s how you treat him, like an old friend, with a wide and genuine smile and a handshake. when you talk about your home and your family, you do it as if you’re catching ol’ caesar up on what’s been going on at the old home front. the two of you laugh and joke- poking fun at each other because after all, you’re old friends- and when your time is up, your handshake turns into a hug and that winsome smile turns towards the crowd, greeting them with that same familiarity. ( we’re all just old friends, you and i. )

when you’re dropped into the arena, you watch the sunlight extinguish above you and when you reach the platform, there’s no light aside from the countdown hovering in the air in the middle of the circle of tributes, casting all of your faces in a ghosty glow and sending the shadows of the cave system in sharp relief. the cornucopia sits in the middle of this junction, several different openings branching surround the round room and when the count hits one, the lights go out-- and the screaming is drowned out by the starting horn. it’s chaos-- the sounds of screaming and struggling and then the sounds of weapons biting into bodies-- all in the pitch black. you trip over someone and you don’t pause to see if they’re living or not but you feel the pack in their hand and ripping it from them, you stumble off into the blackness, hand outstretched until you meet stone and one of those openings. and you barrel forward, blind. thirteen canons fire after the cornucopia and the light from their projected faces don’t reach you as you push further and further, getting lost in the labyrinthine tunnels. 

you don’t stop until your body can’t take you any further and it’s only when legs grow jelly weak that your hand finds a crevasse in the wall, barely big enough for you to pull that thin and lanky body into- and you know that if anyone else were to find that hole and start stabbing, you’d be done for- but your body is too tired to care. as you push yourself in though, deeper in the cave’s wall is the faintest glow-- phosphorus mushrooms and you wonder how they could glow as deep and as dark as you are. you use them as a marker, mashing them into a paste and marking against the cave wall in attempts to create some sort of map to take you back to that hiding place when you finally get adventurous and leave it. the food in your pack is gone after what you believe is two days but then packages from sponsors seem to drop in your lap from skittering creatures in the dark and you eat.  there’s a moment in your wanderings where you’re almost done for- foot stepping forward and meeting nothing only to fall back on your ass with a yelp that echoes through the caves- and you ignore the way it travels to crawl on your stomach until you feel that ledge. the mushrooms glow isn’t strong enough to see how deep the hole is and you chance using the flare in the pack. 

it’s a tribute from ten that finds you ( you find that out later )- a fifteen year old whose muscles are thick and roped from working with livestock where yours are thin and lean- following that echoing yelp and his knife slashes at your shoulder when he sneaks up behind you. the flare drops and the two of you wrestle, him above you with that knife pressing down and aiming for something more lethal, your hands braced against that knife. when he presses harder, your arms buckle and your legs kick, throwing you both- him tumbling over you and you tumbling back. you manage to grab hold of the ledge and you hear him fall hard and when you look behind you, you see the fall is a good ten feet but that the floor is littered with sharp stalagmites jutting up from the bottom of the cave’s floor and the flare goes out just as you see blood trickling from the boy’s mouth and glinting off the points of those stalagmites that have punctured through his chest. another package comes your way with a salve that soothes the pain in your shoulder from the stab wound and you chance a whispered thank you to whoever sent it. 

you lure two more to their deaths that way and as the days progress, you count the canons as they fire and then for a good while, there aren’t any canons that sound. you’re not sure if it’s a handful of hours or a day but you know that there’s only three of you left. the gamekeepers begin to trigger cave ins that push the three of you further back towards the cornucopia and it’s on that last one that brings down the entire cave that you once again almost lose. you’re running, hand pressed against a rumbling wall to guide yourself and the other holding that pack over your head as rocks fall and slam against the pack and your shoulders and then, you trip. careening towards the rock floor, you feel the bounder crush your leg and pain rips through your body but adrenaline helps to numb it, your mind in that fight or flight mode as you shove and rip your useless leg from under the boulder and crawl- pack forgotten, rocks slamming into your body, trying to beat you down and bury you there but you break into the opening where the cornucopia stands, another dark shape in the darkness your eyes have barely begun to adjust to. a canon sounds-- only two left. and when she stumbles in, you grab her ankle and yank her to the floor, dragging yourself up to wrap your hands around her throat, feeling her nails tear into your arms, your chest, your throat. when she stops moving, the sound of the canon fading as you drop into unconsciousness. 

ꜰʟᴇᴡ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴ ɴᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟᴏᴡꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ

they can’t save your leg and they tell you that it’s a blessing you weren’t awake to see it when your eyes open to blinding light. it takes you almost three days before you can see normally again, your eyes having grown adjusted to that pitch black. the healers teach you how to walk with the prosthetic and it’s like being a baby again, training your body to work with a piece of you that wasn’t there but when you walk across that stage to greet caesar, no one would notice the stiffness in the movement unless they were looking for it. that smile is still warm and genuine as caesar holds your hand- an old friend glad to see the other returned from war, you tell yourself- as you talk about the games; an old friend who encourages you to show off that fancy new leg the benevolent capitol healers have fashioned for you and the crowd roars as you strut across the stage, pausing to lift the leg of your pants with a wink, revealing the prosthetic to a crowd that roars and cheers. you hug caesar again in that tight hug- a hug for all panem, for you watching at home-- in gratitude. 

you vomit the second you step off the stage, hunched over some decorative fucking thing that you couldn’t care less about. have fun cleaning my pukes, bitches. 

you return home and move your mother and sister in the victor’s village and the lights in the house never go out-- it’s a rule you impose and no one argues with you. the victory tour and the following year returning to the capitol are a blur-- you don’t remember that first year. or the second. but the third year, your sister tells you a secret-- and you wake up. the baby is born just before you go back to the capitol and you hate to leave them, knowing that the baby’s father has no intention of being involved and as such, no fucking help ( and when you see him with his family, you think about how your hands had wrapped around that thin neck and-- ) but it becomes about coming back. and when you look at the faces of the tributes that ride in the train with you, it’s too easy to replace their faces with the face of your niece-- and you start working like hell to bring them back. 

one of the perks of being a victor is not having to worry about work-- the job is only for a few weeks a year which leaves plenty of time to pursue interests. and you try your hand at several- fidgeting with prototypes that come from the experimental engineers ( for the games, for the peacekeepers ), whittling, puzzling-- and it’s in that puzzling that you find something that brings your heart unmitigated peace and joy: clockwork. you study timepieces and begin to craft pieces of handheld art with decorated faces inlaid with gems imported from district one, guilt with gold inlay. they become presents for sponsors and soon there’s commissions that roll in and while the demand is definitely more than the output, it’s something that keeps you busy and keeps you beloved by the capitol-- everyone wants a voltaire original. 

ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴛʀᴜɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴜᴘꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢʙɪʀᴅ, ꜱɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴏɴɢ

you’re approached by members of the rebellion when your niece turns ten. your mother’s ashes have joined dad’s on the mantle in the living room and at first, you’re resistant because all you can think of is the fact that standing against the capitol- against president snow- would only guarantee that more boxes of ashes would line that mantle: your sister’s, your niece, your own. for weeks you agonize over the proposition, going back and forth between the fear that keeps you frozen- head down until the lights come up- and the anger in your heart that grows year after year each time you return home with tributes in caskets. it’s a clandestine meeting when that anger wins out and you sign yourself onto a rebellion. 

your job is simple: keep making clocks. continue to create beautiful and coveted pieces of time but with a special addition that you create with the help of scientists from district 13: a recording chip the size of a pin’s head, nestled underneath one of those sparkling gems that transmits directly to a radio frequency monitored only by district 13. and each time you pass one of those beautifully crafted pieces to their new owner, there’s a breath that’s held, wondering if this time is when you’ll be caught-- and you don’t breathe again until the new owner has left, unsuspecting. gamemakers, socialites, sponsors-- even caesar and president snow have been presented with their own unique pocketwatches. there’s a feeling of accomplishment as time passes and those gifts are given, received with gratitude and greed in equal measure. it wasn’t much, but it was something. 

two years after you begin working alongside district 13, your sister is killed in an accident and your mind flies into a panic, thinking you’ve been found out. perhaps it’s paranoia but the details don’t add up and you try and pull from the rebellion- you have a twelve year old niece who needs you, you’re all she has left, you can’t risk it-- but you’re talked back down from that ledge. there were bigger things at work here; the steps that you take today keep your niece safe tomorrow. and she’s all you have left too, you would do anything to keep her safe but more than that, you want to create a future for her. a future where she isn’t under the thumb you’ve been pinned under for the last seventeen years.  

which is why when her name is pulled for the reaping, you become focused in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been when it comes to the games. and when given the option, there’s no hesitation: you volunteer. you would do anything to keep her safe. but the longer you’re in the capitol and after the execution of those prominent faces-- those that you called friends-- you’re starting to realize that you may pose a bigger danger to him than anyone. and you’re scared to fucking death. 

TFLDR + EXTRAS

volt is from d3- lil smarty pants, def has a touch of the ‘tism- got reaped at 18. 

his games were in a underground cave system- he killed four people and ended up losing his left leg just below the knee due to a cave in that crushed his leg. 

so he’s got a prosthetic leg!

got super into clockmaking and has developed a bit of a name for himself as a craftsman among the capitol elite-- everyone wants a voltaire original timepiece. 

joined the rebellion about 4 years ago almost dipped two years in when his sister died suddenly but was talked out of leaving bc we’re making a difference dammit! 

puts lil secret recording devices in some of his pieces that he gifts/sells!! sneakily spying for the rebellion!

has a 14 year old niece named elianna aka ellie who was reaped and he has volunteered for her

is super good at masking!! until he’s not

has a paralyzing fear of the dark-- hasn’t slept without a light in 17 years. 

genuinely nice guy who’s a lil bit of a weirdo

CONNECTIONS

mentor pals!! literally nothing gets me harder than a good found family bonded through shared trauma. would love 2 have it someday

rebellion pals!! folks who are working with the rebellion that volt would know or have worked with in the past

past lovers/friends!! im a simple bitch i love a good exes plot whether it be a relationship or fling that fell apart or a friendship that couldn’t stand the test of time whatever man im open

ppl who don’t fuck with him!! listen he’s a just a lil dude. some people vibe with the lil dude and some people dont. would love 2 have some antagonistic plots please im BEGGING

literally anything dude i am OPEN. 

[gadgetrevive]

Teardown of the Samsung Galaxy S20+: In the Shadow of the UltraWe just finished tearing down Samsung’s latest flagship smartphone, the Galaxy S20 Ultra, but we couldn’t help but wonder: what’s inside the not-so-ultra S20 phones? Today, we’ve got the S20+ on our teardown table and we’re ready to take a look. Many of the specs are similar, down to the giant camera bump on the backside of the phone. However, instead of that questionably-useful 100x zoom camera from the S20 Ultra, we get a more modest 3x telephoto camera with super resolution zoom up to 30x.Getting Inside the S20+If there’s one thing we know by now, it’s how to get inside a Samsung phone. Our heat gun loosens up the adhesive holding down the back cover, and after some slicing with our opening picks, we are able to get our first look inside. In a shocking twist of events that no one saw coming, we’re met by a midframe antenna assembly and a wireless charging pad!We prep the wireless charging pad for removal, then take out the Phillips screws holding the metal shield and the upper antenna in place. Once the screws are out of the way, we can disconnect the wireless charging pad, and all the pieces come out together. Then the lower speaker/antenna frame comes free after some more Phillips screws, some of them a little stubborn, like the ones we found in the S20 Ultra.The Display DilemmaUp next, the display! We’ve long criticized Samsung phones for their display-last construction. Adhering the fragile OLED panel directly to the frame of the device without support means it will almost always be destroyed upon removal, which ruins the display—even if the glass is already broken. Add to that the fact that replacement displays often crack or come loose unless the frame is perfectly clean for the re-installation, and it’s easy to see why we prefer to remove iPhone displays!Exploring the InternalsNext, we get to the motherboard and the star of the collective S20 show: the cameras! All three S20 phones have one thing in common: they each use some of Samsung’s own image sensors along with the popular Sony sensors that most smartphone manufacturers have been using. The S20+ sports a 12 MP ultra-wide camera, a 12 MP standard wide camera, and a 64 MP telephoto camera. The fourth sensor here is a time-of-flight camera that gathers depth data for selective focus mode and augmented reality (AR).We disconnect the cables running to the little USB-C board at the bottom of the phone, and after removing a few screws, we give it some prying action and it jumps free.The Battery BattleAlright, the time has come to fight this 17.37-watt-hour battery! We douse it with isopropyl alcohol to weaken the adhesive underneath, then wait a couple of minutes for it to soak in. Then we attach our heavy-duty suction cup and, with some help from extra hands, we’re able to wrestle it free. Look at all that adhesive, though—Samsung, don’t you think that’s a bit much?Conclusions from the TeardownAs we conclude this teardown, we’ve learned that the S20+’s similarities to the Ultra are not limited to their outer appearances! The Samsung Galaxy S20+ earns a 3 out of 10 on our repairability scale, earning a few points for its use of standard Phillips screws and its semi-modular construction. That said, its poorly prioritized screen repair procedure and the firmly-adhered rear cover and battery keep it from being a more repairable smartphone.Professional Repair ServicesIf you find these steps daunting or lack the necessary tools, consider getting your phone repaired by professionals. Gadget Kings offers expert repair services for all types of phones, including the Samsung Galaxy S20+. They provide high-quality repairs and ensure your phone is restored to its optimal condition. Visit their website at Gadget Kings to learn more about their services.Detailed Teardown ProcessNow, let's dive deeper into each step of the teardown process.Back Cover RemovalThe first step is always the hardest, and that's especially true when dealing with Samsung's adhesive-heavy design.

We used a heat gun to soften the adhesive securing the back cover. This step requires patience and precision, as too much heat can damage the internal components. Once the adhesive is softened, we used opening picks to carefully slice through the remaining adhesive, finally prying the back cover off.Removing the Wireless Charging Pad and AntennasWith the back cover removed, the next step was to deal with the wireless charging pad and antenna assemblies. These components are held in place by Phillips screws, which is a relief compared to proprietary screws found in other devices. After removing the screws, we disconnected the wireless charging pad and the midframe antenna assembly. This step reveals more of the phone’s internals, giving us access to the motherboard and battery.Display and Screen ChallengesRemoving the display from the S20+ was a delicate process. Samsung’s choice to adhere the OLED panel directly to the frame complicates repairs. We used a combination of heat and isopropyl alcohol to loosen the adhesive, but the risk of damaging the display is high. This design choice significantly reduces the repairability score of the phone, as it makes screen replacements particularly challenging.Examining the Motherboard and CamerasOnce we accessed the motherboard, we could see the impressive array of cameras. The S20+ features a 12 MP ultra-wide camera, a 12 MP standard wide camera, and a 64 MP telephoto camera, along with a time-of-flight sensor. These components are secured with connectors and a few screws, making them relatively straightforward to remove. The modular nature of these parts is a positive aspect, as it allows for easier replacement if one of the cameras fails.USB-C Board and Lower ComponentsThe USB-C charging board and other lower components were next on the list. After disconnecting the relevant cables and removing a few more screws, the USB-C board came free with some gentle prying. This component is essential for charging and data transfer, so ensuring it is intact and undamaged is crucial.Tackling the BatteryThe battery removal process is always a bit nerve-wracking. Samsung uses a strong adhesive to keep the battery in place, which we weakened using isopropyl alcohol. After letting it soak in, we used a heavy-duty suction cup to pull the battery free. This step requires caution, as excessive force can damage the battery or other internal components.Final ThoughtsThe teardown of the Samsung Galaxy S20+ reveals a device that shares many similarities with its Ultra counterpart, but also has its unique challenges. The high level of adhesive used and the display-last construction are significant drawbacks for repairability. However, the use of standard screws and modular components like the cameras and USB-C board are positive aspects.For those who prefer to leave repairs to the experts, Gadget Kings offers professional phone repair services. They have the tools and expertise to handle even the most challenging repairs, ensuring your phone is returned to you in optimal condition. Check out their services at Gadget Kings.ConclusionThis teardown provided valuable insights into the design and repairability of the Samsung Galaxy S20+. While it shares many components with the S20 Ultra, the differences in camera capabilities and internal layout are noteworthy. The repairability challenges posed by Samsung’s design choices highlight the importance of professional repair services for those who may not have the tools or expertise to tackle such a project themselves.If you enjoyed this teardown and want to see more, be sure to check out our full Galaxy S20 Ultra teardown and subscribe to our channel. We regularly post new teardown videos, offering a detailed look at the latest smartphones and gadgets. Thank you for watching, and we’ll catch you in the next video!  4o

[dandyxrandy]

After-Shoot

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3k

Warnings: Protected Sex ; My Spanish sucks so Google translate helped. If a phrase is wrong, PLEASE reach out to me so I can correct it. Also not beta read. So if mistakes found, again, reach out. The easier for you to the read, the happier I am.

Gif Credit: @pedrospascl

It couldn’t get any worse, you told yourself. It really, really couldn’t. This was the first time you were invited to have coffee with another in God who remembers how long and you ended up being late. Not only were you late, but you were cold and soaked to the bone from the rain that ended up being a whole hour earlier than the forecast predicted and really, you should've known better than to listen to any predicament of weather because it was usually wrong anyways.

You checked your phone again and it was still dead as a door nail. You had dropped it in a puddle earlier when you tried to answer the call from Pedro, no doubt wondering where you were, and it shorted out the motherboard. You would have to replace it whenever you got home and you honestly had half a mind to just turn around and do just that. That would seem silly, however, with you being more than halfway to Pedro’s apartment where he had invited you for an afternoon coffee get together the day before when you worked together on the Style Magazine photo shoot.

    You were really, really tired of having a shit day. Frustrated and in near tears you saw the place that Pedro was staying in for the time being while he was in your state. It was a nice condo type home with large front windows that overlooked the city, the style modern and sleek.

    You let out a small breath, even as the storm crackled above you, and tried to muster your resolve up. You were a mess, but hey - you were here, right? Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset with you. It wasn’t exactly your fault that you had to park six blocks away because there wasn’t any closer parking nor was it your fault the weather was wrong.

    You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell and before the small chime even ended the door swung open, Pedro filling the entire frame. Oh. He looked absolutely stunning. His soft curls were slicked back against his head and he wore one of the outfits from the shoot the previous day. One of the ones you had commented on, to be precise. His eyes took a long drag over you, from head to toe, his jaw working from one side to the other. His irritation seemed palpable.

    “I see the coffee isn’t the only thing that’s cold.” His hand slid down the door frame before dropping to his side, a hefty sigh heaving from his lips. “Come on, let's get you inside and warmed up. I have some spare clothes that you can wear.”

    You felt sheepish following him inside. He didn’t even give you time to explain and once the door was closed you were able to try.

    “Pedro, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.” You, shuffled in behind him, following him to the bathroom where he grabbed you a towel.  “There wasn’t any parking and my phone died and I just - please don’t be mad.” And you did feel like crying then. You could tell he wasn’t happy with you and that on top of being cold and tired, you felt a little part of you break.

    He reached out with the towel and brought it to your face, gently wiping away the raindrops that stuck to your cold skin.

    “You have nothing to apologize for, guapa.” He brought his other hand to your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean into the touch a little. You blame it on how he was so warm and you weren’t. “I was worried that something had happened. And then worried you stood me up.”

    “Stood you up? Yeah - okay…” You laughed at him but when you caught his gaze you saw it had softened considerably. He looked relieved and you noticed the slight part of his lips as he turned away, going to another room and reappearing a moment later with a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that looked like it would even be big on him.

    “Why don’t you change into some dry clothes. We can throw your wet ones in the dryer.” He nodded to the clothes dryer that was in the bathroom. “I’ll go make us some new coffee while you swap out.” He set the clothes down on the toilet seat and gave you a half smile. “Mi casa es tu casa.”

    He left you then with a soft closing of the door and you felt a flood of relief course through your body. He wasn’t mad or upset or hell - anything that you thought he may be. Instead he was kind and courteous and worried, and you’d be damned if that didn’t make your heart melt even more. You thought of the moment when he had opened the front door and the dark look in his eyes and the tick of his jaw. It made a low heat curl in your belly at the memory.

    Was it wrong to think those things of someone who clearly wanted what was best for you at that moment? Pedro was, in all essence, taking pity and caring for you and all you could think about was warming yourself up by crawling into his lap. You were horrible, you decided, but the kind of horrible that could be forgiven later.

    You did change out of your clothes then, pausing as you tried to decide if you were going to keep your bra and underwear on but argued they would just soak the dry clothing. Off those went and joined the pile in the sink. You did a quick rub down with the towel to at least try to get most of the water off and then squeezed it through your hair before you stepped into the sweatpants and large tee-shirt, silently thanking the world at how warm they were. You wrung out your clothes as best as you could before you tossed them in the dryer and pressed ‘start’.

    When you opened the door the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you and it instantly set you at ease. You padded your way into the kitchen but didn’t find Pedro there and instead turned to find him sitting on the couch without his red suit jacket on. Two cups of coffee set on coasters in front of him and a small spread of sugar and cream were there, too. The entire set up screamed ‘casual but obvious effort.”

    “Hey…” You rounded the side of the couch and sat next to him, unsure if this was alright. It was just your nerves.

    “Hey. I see everything fits well!” He teased lightly. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee so I figured I would let you do your own. I also turned the heat up a little to help get you warm.” Which would explain the missing jacket.

    Pedro took one of the cups and pressed it into your hands, his own wrapping around yours for a moment. “If you’re still too cold I can grab you a blanket or a sweatshirt.”

    “I think I have enough of your clothes on. If I end up with more I’m afraid that you might not get something back.”

    “Is that so?” The corners of his mouth quirked up in a devious smirk, hands coming to his own cup of coffee to lift to his lips, eyes peering just over the rim of his mug. “Well, I will have to take inventory of all articles of clothing before and after you leave.” Was he flirting with you?

    You hid behind your own cup of coffee, blushing. “What I mean is that it looks expensive and I could never afford some of the clothes you wear.” Even though you were pretty sure these ones were borrowed from the wardrobe department from the shoot.

    “Hm. Here I thought you were wanting a little memento from me.” He chuckled and you nearly choked on your coffee as you inhaled it a little too quick and it went down the wrong pipe. He was flirting, now, you decided as you tried not to die.

    “Hey, hey now…” His hand came to your back, patting you lightly to help you cough up the coffee. “Didn’t mean to make you choke! You okay?” He was finding far too much amusement in your predicament and you were caught between laughing with him and locking yourself back in the bathroom to wait for your clothes to finish drying.

    It took you a minute but you finally stopped coughing, your eyes burning and your pride non-existent. Pedro’s hand, however, was still on your back. He was no longer patting in efforts to help you but now his fingertips were stroking over the gentle curve of your spine, thumb pressing into the muscle just beneath your shoulder blades.

    “Sorry.” You croaked, voice scratchy from the coughing fit. “I wasn’t expecting to be called out so quickly. You certainly know my end game.” You hid your embarrassment with sass and you had to put the coffee down before you did any damage. Pedro’s hand stilled as you moved, but he didn’t stop touching you, not even as you leaned back again.

“You’re still cold. I can feel it through the shirt.” His arm slid across your shoulders as he tucked you closer to his side. You both sat in a stretch of silence as he waited for the silent permission of his touch. You realized he was stiff and not as at ease as you thought he would be. You rested your hand on his knee, fingertips curling against the red cotton of his pants as you leaned in against him, nose tucking against his side. You felt him relax then.

    “Thank you for this.” You whispered as you let your fingers trace his kneecap.

    “Of course. I couldn’t let a damsel stay in distress.” He let his other hand, now coffee less as he set his mug on a side table, come to yours on his knee, fingers lacing to hold your hand. “But I do have a confession to make, if I may…”

    “Hm?” You felt warm and cozy. You hadn’t quite expected that you were going to find yourself cuddling with this charming man today, but you weren’t going to complain either. The weather had taken a toll on you and you were quite ready for a nap. Pedro wasn’t helping either with the slow inhale and exhale of his breath that rocked you like a boat on a lake. Gentle and lovely.

    “I would very much like to kiss you.”

    He squeezed the hand on his knee before unlocking their hold and bringing his fingers to your chin, turning your face to his. He bumped your noses a moment, lips ghosting just over yours in a teasing breath.

    “May I?” He whispered. “Please, tell me what you want.”

        You shifted, your thighs rubbing together as you felt the curling heat span in your belly and you suddenly felt very, very hot. Pedro kept his gaze steady on yours, never once faltering as he waited for your consent. He was so close that you could smell the hint of coffee on his breath, the smell of the aftershave and cologne on his skin.

    “Please...yes, Pedro.” He tilted your chin a little higher, lips just touching. A mockery of a kiss as he smiled wickedly. “Please, kiss me.”

    He did then, his lips pressing firmly into yours as his hand slipped to cup your cheek. Neither of you moved for that moment, letting each other take in the press of your mouths until you let your hand slip a little higher, fingers tracing the seam of his pants on his inner leg and it broke the reserve he had. Pedro groaned low and he all but lifted you into his lap, your legs splaying on either sides of his hips.

    His mouth never left yours as he moved, his hands coming to grip the gentle curve of your hips, pulling you closer to him, yours breasts pushing steady against his chest. He groaned into your mouth as his hips rolled up and you felt the sudden hard length of him against your thigh.

    “Fuck -” You moaned out at the feel of him.    “I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you, hermosa.” Pedro’s voice was husky against your skin as he moved his hands under your ass, fingers tight as he shifted your hips together, pushing his clothed cock up into your hand. “You lit up the room, you know. The moment you stepped foot into the light, I was taken away. Captured.”

    You couldn’t help but let your fingers curl around his length and give a gentle squeeze, testing the size of him and oh - oh, he was large beneath your fingertips. Pedro tipped his head against yours, lips ghosting along your nose.

    “Take off your clothes.” He breathed and you moved with him to pull your shirt over your head, his hands immediately coming to undo your bra and let your breasts hang free. His head dips to take a nipple in your mouth and you arch into the wet heat and you hiss when he sets his teeth against the sensitive skin.

    “Shit - Pedro. I need - “ You needed him out of his shirt, too. But it was hard to coerce him out of it when he was attached to you like he was. You pushed him away a little, trying to create space enough to get him out of his shirt, your fingers working at the buttons in a clumsy haste.

    “Bed.” Pedro grunts and you two move off of the couch, peeling from each other. You still kept your hands on him as he guided you to the bedroom and you both all but fell into the large bed. Pedro rolled to the side to flick on the bedside lamp to fill the room with a soft glow and the light highlighted the deep amber in his eyes. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

    “C’mere.” You motion to him as you lay back on the plush pillows, arms stretched out to take Pedro in. He comes above you and rests on his forearms as he slides a knee up between your legs, making them spread wide and he settles there, his hips rolling into the crux of your thighs.

    You arch up to meet him again and he presses a kiss against your mouth, licking you open. He tugs at your pants insistently and you lift your hips up to let him shimmy them over your soft curves and down your legs. You kick them off in a haste and Pedro pauses, lifting himself to lean back on his knees, staring down at you. You blush under his gaze because it's so heavy, so slow. You don’t remember any man, any person for that matter, who looked at you like that. It was so needy.

    “Eres tan hermosa. You are so beautiful.” He reaches out and drags his fingertips along the side of your face, down your neck and across your collarbone. He keeps going lower and lower, mapping your body out with his touch until he comes to touch your between your legs. His fingers tease your outer lips first, a gentle drag of his knuckles and then he moves in deeper, pressing a thumb against your clit and circling.

    You moaned as he pressed a little more firm to work you into your pleasure and the tip of a finger teased you open and curled. Gods, he was good at this. You clenched around him and he added a second finger, curling up to rub against the textured spot inside you.

    “Pedro.” You moaned out as he continued to work you and you felt your climax climb, your body taught with need. “Pedro, I’m - fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop. Don’t -”

    “Por favor, mi amor. Cum for me.”

    You did as he told you, your eyes closing and head tilting up to close out the world as you focused only on your orgasm. He continued to stroke you inside, his thumb continuously applying the delicious pressure on your clit and only eased up after your thighs stopped trembling, returning to a soft stroke.

    Pedro caught your gaze as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, slipping them against his tongue, sucking in, tasting your orgasm that he brought out of you. He left you breathless. You parted your legs again as an invitation and his gaze dropped to the movement. Pedro shimmied his pants off, tossing them over the side of the bed and you wanted very much to touch him but he instead fumbled with the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom.

    You watched as he rolled the condom on with an ease and he moved over you again, taking your hands in his, twining your fingers together. It was an intimate gesture and one you adored. Pedro seemed like he couldn’t get close enough to you, even as he pressed his flush skin against yours.

    He slid into you easily with how wet you were and he bottomed out in you almost immediately, stretching you full. Pedro lets out a groan, his head dropping to yours as he rocked into your cunt. He was so intimate in this, so incredibly loving, and to a person whom he only just met. You felt him love with his entire being and it was a gorgeous act that he gifted you.

    “I won’t last long, I’m afraid.” He grunts out between thrusts. You bring your legs up and around him, pulling him closer and his thrusts turn into a grind. You were still blissfully sensitive from your climax earlier and you were more than okay with his admission. He took care of you first, above his own pleasure. “Please, Pedro. It’s okay. Please, just...it’s good.” You didn’t know what to say in his softness but you knew it was the right thing because he ground into you harder, his hips snapping as he tightened his grip. His mouth dropped open in a silent moan as he came, his rhythm breaking into stillness.

        “You will have to forgive me.” Pedro breaks into a wide smile against your neck as he relaxes against you, his weight dropping like a blanket. “You are far too soft for any man to last long.” He pulls from you and glances down to take off the spent condom and set it in the trash that was next to the bed. He settled beside you, his head propped up on his hand, his other tracing along your stomach.

    “You flatter me far too much.” You giggle, smacking his hand away. It instead settles against your face, his thumb brushing under your eye.

    “Will you stay with me tonight?” He asked.

    The offer wasn’t one you were expecting. In all honesty, you didn’t really expect any of this, but perhaps you were naive when it came to what coffee dates entailed now, not that you were complaining.

    “Of course.”

    You didn’t think he could light up any more than he already was, but he did. His face became childlike and gleeful. He was adorable, really.

    “Fantastic. I’ll make sure we get some proper coffee in the morning. Promise.”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Cormac Mcnamara Fluff HC’s and SFW Concepts (x black reader for my inclusion) (heehee)

A/N: I spent some of my time off from the hellscape that is school on starting Foreign Exchange. Yeah, I don’t care much for Hannah, she only calls poor Cormac when she needs smth, and the poor thing gets led on so. Time for me to get my fluff fix in. He deserves all of the love and hugs. So, virtually, I’m gonna do that for my little cinnamon roll. I’d be friends with him if I went to school in Ireland for some reason.

@misskittysmagicportal you’re welcome lmao

Warnings: Menstruation, most likely a mention of racism bc i like to tackle issues head on, very very mild gore

Cormac is the softest little boy in town, let me TELL YOU.

I feel like he’d be so down for cuddles, or you just watching him fiddle with his technology.

Even if you understood jack shit about it, you’d put the effort in to learn about what polarizers are.

You’re an exchange student that knows NOTHING about the portal, you’re just from America.

On the day you arrive at Okeefee’s College, you were convinced you weren’t going to fit in.

You didn’t.

Half of the people there stared at you, and gawked at your accent, and how you enunciated your t’s and didn’t whistle your s’s.

Cormac was of course, out of the way, he’s not one to socialize, new student or not.

Of course, you were in the corner, even though you should’ve sat in the front of the class. Luckily enough, you didn’t have to do much, as new students always get a pass.

You stayed below the radar for the first couple days, and never seemed to notice Cormac looking at you in class, whenever you’d shy away from answering questions about yourself. He wasn’t too familiar with anyone too much different than the masses of the school, color, interest, speech.

You were thinking of taking the LONGEST of naps after your classes finished, but those plans were quickly changed. The both of you weren’t paying attention where you were walking.

He crashed into you to say the least, and the copy of “Astrophysics for People in a Hurry” fell out of your hands, your bookmark getting lost.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that. Wasn’t watching where I was-WAIT, you’re that new girl from America, aren’t ye?” Cormac said, readjusting his glasses. You nodded, and were perplexed at his new creation, it looked like a gramophone, but with a motherboard and an antenna.

He tried to hide it from you, but he saw your gaze constantly go back to the machine, even as he snapped in front of your face.

‘You alright there? Oh, you’re looking at this. You want to hang out with me over the weekend. Maybe you can catch up from your bookmark, while I work on this.”

You confirmed, and that’s how you two became polarizing pals.

Cormac may be smarter than the library, not the porridge one, and as quick as a whip, but do NOT be shocked. He is very socially inept, and a little behind on cues, and different things.

He almost touched your hair once, without your permission, but you stopped him right in his tracks.

“Cormac, do you want your hand maimed and chopped off, then hung from the top of the flagpole.” you said, giving him a death stare.

“N-no, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?” he asked, taking his hand away, putting it back on the screwdriver.

“Well, for starters, don’t touch my hair without my permission. It’s a no-no for all people, but for black people especially. We had to have our hair cut off completely. That was our culture, and it was ripped away because we were seen as less than, nothing but an animal. So, you, taking your hand, as clean as it may be, and putting it in the fruits of my ancestors’ labor. That’s disrespectful love.” you replied, turning a page.

He has no idea, (damn education system), but he continues to learn about different cultures, especially black culture, African-American culture. The War on Drugs. He comes to you close to every day with different factoids, a good amount of them you already know, but you’re still happy that he puts effort in.

He’s a very tall lad, so expect very warm hugs from him. After a long day of school, he walks over to you, wherever you may be, and hugs you, asking how your day was. You melt into the hug, and smile against him, marveling at how consistent he is.

In classes, if there’s an odd number of people left, it’s always you, he, and Hannah. Y’all get the work done quickly, and he even lets you join them when Orienteering.

Now, you’re one smart cookie. No matter race, everyone has the power to be as smart as they can be. As well as that, they can work damn hard to get there, through all the trouble and hatred. Every now and then, a teacher might shut you down. Ask Cormac if he knows, in which he responds, but always sends you a look of pity.

A teacher could go through all of the students in a class, and not get the right answer once, and your hand stayed up through every excruciating second of it. And, begrudgingly, the teacher asks you, in which you give the correct answer, and if even a *word* is out of place, you’re ridiculed.

That always tends to upset, you, ruffle your feathers, but you don’t give in, not until you’re alone, in your dorm. Crying at the unfairness, wishing it were different.

Or in Cormac’s arms, wetting his sweater, his brain moving a mile a minute to try to say the right thing. He always held you so gently, he’s used to it. His experiments could go wrong with a moment’s change. He’s used to being patient, and tender.

He’s always trying to ask you about life in America, trying to find out what you hated, what you loved. His curiosity was never ending, it seemed. Sometimes, though, he could get a little caught up with his words, and you’d giggle at him, and help him along. This typically happened when he was trying to ask you out to go to the courtyards, or to library dates. He’d sneak food to you, and you two would have picnics near the sheep.

Whenever there weren’t too many teachers around, and when Hannah was in Perth, you two would cuddle on the grass, and sneak cheek and hand kisses in every now and then.

He’s an EXCELLENT cuddler by the way, lots of space to appreciate.

He knew mostly where you would be, and you him, but every now and then, one of ye’ wouldn’t respond to emails, but it’s usually due to an upset stomach, or too much studying. This wasn’t going to be the case ever time.

You were usually very attentive during class, doing classwork, writing down notes. However, one of these days, Cormac could tell something was wrong. Your head was down, and your binder was pressed tightly against your abdomen. Every now and then, he saw you scrunch your face in what seemed like pain, but he couldn’t put his finger on what the problem was.

It was a Friday, so you were free, and you and Cormac had plans to sleep in, and have another sheep picnic. At the moment, however, all you wanted to do was take a big fat nap, and sleep through the weekend.

As soon as class ended, you bolted out of the door, and Cormac tried to catch up, but Tara teased him, saying that you’d finally grown up, and wanted someone better than him. Your body was still, however, in too much pain to do focus.

He tried to get to you, but you were moving too fast, already halfway up the steps. He saw a portion of your khaki skirt, was red, and he began getting concerned, thinking you had began dying.

When you finished your shower, and began soaking your skirt, gone but never forgotten, you saw a cluster of emails from Cormac, asking if you were okay, dead, angry at him. Or needed medical attention. You were brought to tears, and instructed him to meet you at 7:00p.m., in front of the boy’s shower room, typically where Cormac would take you to his room, where you’d fall asleep on his bed, book on top of your face. He’d want to take a picture, and did, leaving it above his bed.

He met with you, and when he asked you if you were okay, a particularly tough cramp hit you like a truck, causing you to crumble. You groaned at the pain, and Cormac followed you down, asking if you were okay.

“Cormac, I’m cramping, just some pain.” you whispered, holding back tears

“What’re the cramps from? You eat something weird?” he asked, looking at you with concern.

“No, I’m on my period.” you said, sitting on the cold floor.

“Oh, you mean...menstruation. When you shed your uterine lining because your egg wasn’t fertilized, so now it’s coming out of your...um...lady....parts.” he stuttered, a blush forming on his face, followed by a look of concern.

You laughed at his explanation, and confirmed his suspicions, until another cramp hit you.

“Oh goodness, you must be suffering. I’ve heard that menstrual cramps are sometimes as bad as heart attacks.” he said, beginning to rub your stomach, helping soothe the pain.

You nodded again, and he led you to his room, grabbing you spare chocolate from when you were craving due to PMS, (unknowingly). He heated up a towel, and tucked you into your sleeping bag, his parallel to yours.

Tears began to escape from your eyes from his gestures, and he reached over to dry them.

“It’s okay to cry. Especially if you’re in a lot of pain. I think that it’s absolute bollocks that you feel like there’s something wrong for you for simply being human. It’s like a punishment for not getting pregnant. You didn’t ask for it.” he replied, letting you lay on top of him for the time being.

You smiled against him, but sadly woke up to more bloody underwear, and realizing that you’d leaked on Cormac. You shook him awake, and he didn’t even begin to panic, handing you a pair of spares, and a product through the door.

“Just a bit o’ blood. Nothing bleach or peroxide can’t fix.” he said, hugging you once again.

Cormac is very hesitant to kiss you on the lips. You pecked him once, and that sent him up the wall. His ears turned even more red, and his cheeks lit up.

He responded to your laughter with multiple face kisses, eventually landing one at your lips, lingering for a moment.

You cheered for his confidence, and you two went to a picnic the next day, the sheep happy to have you two there.

You felt completely over the moon to have Cormac as your partner. Even if he was a little shit sometimes, you wouldn’t have him another way.

Masterlist

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Sins of the Father

Shego meets with her father. Heavy angst.

Warnings: Child abuse and forced eating disorders, some gore.

The phone at the robotics workstation rang, startling Drakken, causing him to solder through the motherboard.

He groaned loudly. He had been working on that motherboard for days!

“What?” He snapped, answering the phone.

“Stephanie?” The voice on the other line questioned.

Drakken leaned back in his seat, “Listen, pal if you think I sound like a Stephanie we both have issues.”

“Is Stephanie Gordon there?”

Drakken’s eyes narrowed, “How’d you get this number?”

“Is she there?” The voice asked, getting tired of Drakken’s perceived runaround.

“No, she’s not.” Drakken was getting suspicious and it sounded in his voice. GJ had sent her on a short mission for the day.

The man on the other end sighed, “Just- just tell her to call me. My number is still the same. I’m her father.” The call abruptly disconnected.

Drakken sat back up in his chair and thought. Shego and her father Sam had been estranged for longer than Drakken had known her. She had divulged little tidbits of his parenting which were less than stellar at best and abusive at worst.

Through the GJ computers, Drakken could run a full background check on this guy. He didn’t trust him. What did he want all of a sudden? Drakken knew criminals (the irony was not lost on him) and as much as Drakken hoped he wasn’t, Gordon could be up to something. If he so much as sneezed near a traffic camera, GJ would show it.

Samuel James Gordon, divorced from Shego’s and her brother’s mother for several years, a failed MMA fighter, terrible credit score, lives in the not so good part of town, unemployed but has self-published a book on Team Go. No criminal history and no weapons registered to him. This guy was a Loser with a capital L who lived vicariously through his kids, mostly Shego. Drakken was satisfied that Gordon probably wasn’t up to anything. It was up to Shego if she wanted to speak to him.

Midevening rolled around, and the lab began to shut down for the night. Techs and assistants turned off their computers and all unnecessary equipment shut down. Paul was fed and put in her kennel for the night. Overnight security began to show up. Drakken never noticed the lively hum the running lab emitted until it was gone.

Shego walked in with a few other GJ agents who had friends or partners that worked for him, the burning sun shining behind her. In her catsuit and flowing raven hair, laughing with one of her colleagues, she looked absolutely beautiful. And powerful. Stars, what did she see him?

“Hey loser,” She greeted, walking up to his workstation. ‘Loser’ had somehow become a term of endearment from her to him long ago. “What do you want for dinner? Heath gave me more Bueno Nacho gift cards for my birthday and it sounds kinda good right now. That sound good to you? I don’t feel like cooking.”

Drakken was a million miles away. He had no idea how he was going to tell her that her father was asking for her. He would never keep anything from her, but he also wanted to protect her from any emotional trauma Gordon’s presence brought about. Once again, Drakken reminded himself that it was up to her to decide what to do.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Drakken answered.

“Sweet,” Shego replied, going off to change.

As much as Drakken was annoyed with GJ’s restrictions, the little amenities assuaged him, like a laundry and tailor service. Apparently, his lab gear and her suit needed to be laundered a certain way? It took him a very long time to figure out that leather cannot survive the rinse and dry cycle. Shego had only been at his side for a week when she commented that he looked like he was mottling. The leather of his lab coat was dry and cracked. Once he thought about it yeah, it made sense, he dealt with biohazardous and/or corrosive materials on a daily basis, things he really didn’t want to bring home on his clothing. Every morning in his office, he was greeted by a fresh lab coat hanging up and his lab boots expertly shined. Shego’s own suits were cleaned as well.

Shego emerged in a black tank top, her hair pulled back and comfy shorts, her purse slung over her shoulder. Soon, they headed home.

Shego had her long legs kicked up on the dashboard, soaking up the dying sun, her sunglasses on and her shoes off as she scrolled through her phone. Drakken saw the opportunity.

“Get any weird calls lately?” He asked, swallowing hard.

“No,” Shego replied casually, “Our provider is pretty good at filtering out spam and robocalls.”

“Really?” Drakken paused, “I did.”

“Oh yeah?” Shego said, still looking at her phone, “What was it?”

“Uh, it was your dad, looking for you.”

Shego froze. “What?”

“I didn’t give him your number. He said he wants to talk. His number is still the same.”

Shego sighed, “I’m not talking to him.”

“You don’t have to,” Drakken replied.

There was a tense silence.

“What does he even want?”

“I dunno.” Drakken shrugged, “He didn’t say.”

Shego threw her head back against the seat and pouted, “Would I be a bad daughter if I ignored him?”

“I don’t think I’m the greatest moral compass, Stef, but from everything you told me, you don’t own him anything.”

Shego’s head rolled to look out the window. She groaned. “I guess I’ll talk to him. It might be important.”

~*~

Shego drug her feet on contacting her father, but Drakken didn’t push her. She had been tense and quiet and snappy the entire week. Late Thursday afternoon, she made the call and arranged to meet with him that Saturday at a café. Shego didn’t linger on the line for conversation. A café, public but non-committal, you weren’t stuck there through the appetizer and entre round if things went south.

Drakken parked in front of the café. Shego sighed and grabbed her purse from the floorboards.

“Want me to go in with you?” He asked, hoping to offer support.

“No. Keep the car running.” She said, pushing her sunglasses to her head.

Drakken hoped this went well, for her sake.

Shego went in and ordered a black coffee and sat down. Shego took a seat and from where she sat, Drakken could see her and her table fine, minus a glare. She just wanted Drew there without actually being there.

They both sat for a few moments when a scrawny but still somehow paunchy man with salt and pepper hair passed by the car and walked inside. That could not have been Shego’s father. She must have gotten her looks from her mother. Geez, even Drakken himself could beat this guy up. Drakken dropped down, not wanting to be seen, fearing that he could be seen even through the car’s tinted windows.

Drakken’s phone rang and it was Shego. Confused, he answered, “Hello?”

“Stephanie, look you great.” He heard Gordon say. The man made a move to hug her, but Shego didn’t make a move to reciprocate. Drakken felt second-hand embarrassment for the guy, watching the hug slowly die. Shego wanted Drakken to hear their conversation as she placed her phone to the side.

“How long has it been?” Gordon asked, sitting down.

Shego shrugged, saying nothing.

Her father looked around, nervously drumming on his thighs. “I heard you got married. Eloped. I’m not surprised. Not crazy about you not telling me…”

Shego cut him off, “What do you want?”

He looked flabbergasted. “You’re my daughter…”

“No, I was your pet project. You didn’t pay any attention to me until I nearly died in that treehouse and came out with powers. Then, you made me into what you wanted, what you couldn’t be. The boys,” Shego shook her head, “they were extra, bonuses, just along for the ride. Hell, you even told me I was radioactive, some Radium Girl, to keep me under your thumb.”

Shego’s black painted nails drummed on the side of her coffee mug, “God, how much did I miss because of you? All kinds of parties, birthdays, dances. Mom had to convince you to let me do anything, even to go to Prom. You said everything was a distraction.” She said, carefully, drawing out this man’s torture. This meeting was not going as well as he hoped and it showed on his face.

“I just wanted what was best for you. You had, have so much potential. I thought that that was what you wanted…”

“Did you ask?” Shego exclaimed, her eyes wide, “How many calories was I allowed to have? A couple a hundred? A healthy teenage girl needs 2,200 calories a day and I sure as hell wasn’t getting that. Remember that earthquake in Tokyo you pulled us out of school for, so we could do search and rescue?”

Shego paused and when she spoke again, her voice was strained with emotion, “I’ll never forget the smell of leaking gasoline, a little girl’s cries for help from under the rubble of her school, her hand sticking through the debris, clawing for help. I told her it would be alright, I don’t know if she understood me, I just learned a few Japanese phrases on the flight over, I took her hand and it wasn’t connected to her anymore. I held her bloody, dismembered hand, Dad.” She said through gritted teeth, tears streaming down her face, shaking her own hand. “I was sixteen. I still remember.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“There’s nothing you can say,” Shego replied. Her fingers started to twitch and constrict, subconsciously, she wanted to lash out, to light the café up with green plasma. “There are just some things you can’t undo.”

They sat for a moment in silence before Shego grabbed her purse, “Don’t contact me. Ever again.”

She hurried out of the café and back into the SUV with her husband.

Drakken knew better to say anything to Shego as she got in. She needed her space and he would be there for her when she was ready. He looked at Gordon through the windshield and the café’s window and he was looking back. Gordon couldn’t see Drakken through the tinted windows but knew it was him behind the wheel. Drakken held the man’s eyes before putting the SUV in reverse and pulling away. Shego pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes, tears on her cheeks reflecting in the afternoon sun, and remained silent the entire way home. Drakken did what he could to keep her comfortable, making sure the temperate in the vehicle was good, that it wasn’t blowing on her too much, that the radio volume wasn’t too loud. He wouldn’t press her to talk.

When they returned home, Shego went upstairs. Drakken gave her some time to herself before he went up to check on her.

She could never accept his apology if he offered one. There was a finality she felt. The last time she saw him was when her Mom asked for a divorce when Shego was nineteen and he left with only an old suitcase. She hoped he’d just turn to dust and leave her be. Now, it was like he finally was dead. She sobbed and beat the bed with clenched fists, mourning for her father and what she never had. Drakken merely held Shego as she painfully mourned her father.

[avangee]

Fourth Of July (Pt. 5)

Read on AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Mikey really needed a shower, his legs were itching from the being in the grass earlier, his own cum was drying on his stomach and he’s pretty sure that the lollipop had gotten stuck on his shirt. His cheek hurt and so did his ass. Pete looked pretty much fine, he just wiped off the cum with his shirt, took off the condom and was done with it all. Michael James Way was all fucked out  and it was a lot of work, the bottom whined as he tried to move off the bed. When he tried to stand he just fell back onto the bed due to his legs being jelly. Fuck Pete for fucking him.

“I wanna be clean,” Mikey grumbled out in a whiny voice, he was delirious and it was not okay. “Pete help.”

Pete nodded and got up, grabbing Mikey, who’s jeans were still half down and who had lost basic motor functions. Mikey’s dick was rubbing agaisnt Pete’s chest but he couldn’t even find the energy to adjust himself so he wasn’t whimpering every six seconds. After two entire minutes of Pete’s ‘where the fuck is the bathroom’s, the two finally got in the  room and started the shower.  Mikey couldn’t even fucking stand, he sat on the cold, tile floor in the bathroom.  He did not like Pete in that moment, but he really wanted Pete to stay.

“I can’t move, fuck you and your dick,” Mikey whined, although it had been the best fuck of his almost seventeen years, he just wanted to be back to his normal, not sore self.

Pete laughed at him, the fucker. Mikey ignored him with a pout and started the epic journey from the floor to the bath. Suprisingly, it didn’t take much to shove off the rest of his clothes and drag himself into the tub. He sat under the stream of hot water, flinching when it hit the burn on his cheek. The younger hadn’t closed the curtain due to Pete jamming a dick inside of him and making him cum fucking three times in the last hour, fuck Pete, and fuck Pete for being concerned about the flinching because that was kind of his fault too. Just, fuck Pete in general.

“Dude, you okay?” Fucking Pete asked this fucking question. Two things were absolutely wrong with this stupid fucking question 1) of course Mikey is not o-fucking-kay, so fuck Pete and 2) who the fuck calls the person they just fucked dude? Who the fucking fuck? Fuck Pete.

Mikey pouted at fucking Pete because, Fuck. Pete. And then his entire body was shaking and he was seeing black. The shower pressure, being the shitty fifty dollar thing it was, shifted and made a fucking path directly onto Mikey’s fucking dick, in those three seconds of pressurised water to dick contact Mikey started to cry. He was crying because of the truly harsh overstimulation and because somehow he got it in his mind that Pete didn’t care. Okay, that was just fucking stupid Mikey knew Pete didn’t care, because he is literally just doing any of this because it’s summer and they’re both pretty intoxicated.  Mikey was so busy ‘what-the-fucking’ his thought he didnt even notice that Pete had stumbled into the shower, still dressed, and was staring at Mikey.

“Holy fucking shit,” Mikey choked out with a laugh, “What the fuck are you doing, Wentz?”

Pete stared some more, it was probably the marijuana. Mikey moved his hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes, but Pete surged foward and fucking kissed the tears. What the actual fuck? Mikey kind of liked it, and if he was half as sober and didn’t crave excessive affection, he wouldn’t have let Pete near him again. One night -well day- stands, and all that. His liver and lungs didn’t appreciate the last time he got hurt, emotionally.

Since he was drunk, high and feeling extremely touched starved, he let Pete kiss him and didn’t stop the other from rubbing his back. Mikey liked being touched like that, he loved affection, “Take your fucking clothes off, we’re in the shower.”

Pete did just that, standing to shrug off his clothes and throwing the soaked clothes onto the bathroom floor. The football player closed the shower curtain and adjusted the water temperature before sitting behind Mikey, his legs wrapped around the younger’s waist. Mikey didn’t think as he relaxed back into Pete, the shower was hot but not too hot. It was nice, just sitting in the shower with Pete Wentz. That’s a sentence Mikey never thought he would think. Hell, he didn’t even imagine he was ever going to talk more than ‘don’t copy off my fucking test’. Mikey giggled as he thought about the fuck was going on, he fucked the quaterback, Pete Wentz, after he had given Mikey a blowjob.

“This is nice, a real cliche. Captain of the football team fucking the nerd, except it’s usually straight and I probably would’ve had to tutor you.” Mikey looked up at Pete, his voice was light and weird.

“God, why can’t anything ever be gay? There’s too many straight movies out there, where are all of my gay romances?” Pete whined as he grabbed some shampoo from the edge of the tub.

Mikey told Pete about the non-straight movies he had seen on Netflix before, and Pete told him he didn’t have Netflix, “Dude, you’re missing out. Also, What the fuck? Doesn’t every person have the great Netflix at this day and age? Are you an alien?”

“Oh no, my cover’s blown. I gotta get back to my motherboard and hurry up the invasion,” Pete joked, he started to rub shampoo into Mikey’s hair. Mikey didn’t really expect that, but he wasn’t going to move. He was so comfortable on Pete, it was like they were a couple, which they are not.

“You know, you’re different than I thought you’d be,” Mikey thought out loud, Pete raised an eyebrow as he worked the soap into the younger’s hair.

“What’d you think I’d be like?” Pete replied, he sounded a little amused. Mikey kind of liked this Pete, as opposed to the Pete he thought was the real him.

“Straight for starters, and just a typical dick-ish, fuckboy meathead,” Mikey said, turning around so he could rinse out his hair. He was facing Pete, both naked, and Mikey was pretty much sober so he assumed Pete was too.

Pete laughed and pulled Mikey back into his lap, dicks out and Pete’s hands on Mikey’s waist, “Well, I’m definitely not straight.”

“Yeah the other stuff is pretty spot on though.”

Pete frowned and pushed Mikey with his free hand, his other hand was on Mikey’s waist so the boy only fell back enough to scare him. The ‘dick-ish, meathead jock’ laughed and pulled the other back into his lap, closer this time. Mikey mumbled out a ‘fuck you’.

“Already did, Mikes,” Pete said, he stole a kiss from an angry Mikey.

Mikey hit him as they kissed, it was almost like they were a couple. Having playful arguments and kissing without sex, but they weren’t and this was just a one-time thing. Without the sex part was starting to annoy the younger, it was weird to kiss and cuddle without anything else. So, Mikey kissed along Pete’s jaw. He kept kissing down until he got to Pete’s neck, sucking and biting as he dragged his hands through the shorter’s hair. Mikey pulled off, admiring the hickeys that were not going to leave Pete’s neck any time soon. He kept going down, leaving hickeys down the middle of the older’s chest. Taking one of Pete’s nipples in his mouth, Mikey swirled his tongue around the pink nub, he huffed hot air onto Pete’s chest. The older boy whined and whimpered, Mikey could tell he was stifiling moans, so the quaterback liked to have his nipples played with? Mikey chuckled in his throat and bit down lightly on Pete. The shorter whined and a moan escaped his mouth. Fuck.

Pete’s moans were hot, really hot. The noises that came out of Pete’s mouth were high, whiny moans with little gasps. Fuck if they didn’t turn Mikey on. The taller boy supposed he wasn’t listening close enough to Pete when they were fucking. How the fuck didn’t he notice Pete’s moans were so god damn hot?

Mikey sucked a hickey into Pete’s nipple, biting every now and then, everytime he did Pete moaned. The water was still hot against Mikey’s back by some miracle. The water normally lost it’s heat within seconds, Gerard would have to shower cold today. He deserves it for always taking the hot water. Okay, that was not the time to think about his brother at all. What the fuck? Mikey stifled a gag at his thoughts.

He focused back on Pete, who was a whimpering mess under Mikey. Fuck, it was hot. The boy probably could’ve cum just from that but the younger wasn’t that much of a tease. He stopped torturing Pete’s nipple and went down more, so he was on his knees and almost laying down as his feet reached the edge of the tub.

He was level with Pete’s hard penis, since he had moved the water was hitting the older’s stomach. A few splashes reaching his dick, causing Pete to tense up and move foward a bit before relaxing again. Mikey licked the head, Pete let out a low moan at the contact. The younger licked again, bringing the bitter precum against his tongue. In an odd way it tasted good but Mikey was mostly indifferent. Penises are mostly weird, but they nake sense. That’s probably why Mikey’s so fucking attracted to them. He licked again, and again. Pete was whining, saying he wanted more. Mikey kept licking, he has a terrible habit of doing the exact opposite of what anyone wants. Pete was shaking and moaning, Mikey laughed, his hot breath on the leaking dick in front of him. His legs were starting to hurt from his position.

“Stand up,” Mikey ordered, looking up at Pete with eyes that he knew would make Pete do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Pete stood up, mumbling curses at his shaking legs. The older was almost plastered to the wall farthest from the water, Mikey straightened his back and pushed himself onto his knees. He kissed around Pete’s thighs, just trying to get him angry at that point. Mikey had started to bite at Pete’s balls when he got the older angry.

“Fu- uck you, Mikey Way. Please jus- please - you’re tease-. Can I just, just fuck your mouth?” Pete growled, Mikey could tell Pete was restraining himself, but he smirked and nodded.

Mikey slacked his jaw, it was going to be fucking sore. Pete told him something about tapping him if he needed to stop or something. Mikey smiled widely at the thought of the almost-safe-word.

“Just fuck my mouth, Wentz.” Mikey thought it was cute how concerned Pete was acting and he didn’t really want to think that at all.

Pete shoved his dick into Mikey’s mouth, only half way. Mikey didn’t really think Pete was that big but a dick doesn’t seem huge until it is inside of you. He widened his mouth as Pete slowly pushed in, Mikey looked up at him. Classic porn move, but Mikey didn’t really care. Neither did Pete, it seemed, because he pulled Mikey’s hair and his thrusts quickened. It wasn’t his entire length still, Mikey whined and moved farther up on Pete’s penis as he thrusted. Mikey couldn’t breathe as a wild dick appeared deep in his throat. Pete was fucking Mikey’s throat and fuck, it kind of felt good. Other than the obvious non-breathing aspect, but Mikey loved the feeling of being full. It was almost as if Pete’s dick was poking at Mikey’s Adam’s Apple. The younger put hand up to his neck, fucking hell, it was. How big was Pete?

Pete pulled out of Mikey, he caught his breath and immediately began licking the still hard dick as Pete moaned his high, whiny moan. The older groaned, repeatedly saying that he was going to cum through his moans. Pete pulled Mikey’s hair, hard as he came on Mikey’s face. Most of the cum made it into Mikey’s open mouth. The rest was spread across mikeys face, as it fell. Mikey licked over every inch of Pete’s dick, staring up porn-style with cum on his face and falling slowly into the draining water everytime he opened his mouth. Pete’s body was hot as Mikey felt around his legs, the younger sucked a few hickies into Pete’s thighs as he kissed them. The older boy’s afterglow lasted a while as the two actually fuvking showered, they kissed lazily as the oppurtunities to do so arised.

It was almost as if they were dating. Fuck. They were not dating, Mikey was acting like an idiot. He was never going to date Pete Wentz. They were not dating.

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

[tulipblack]

10 May 2019 | COCK BLOCK & TIT BIT #103 /  / LISTEN LIVE ON 8K.NZ https://8k.nz/shows/cock-block/ Friday 12:00 NZT repeats Saturday 15:00, Monday 06:00, Wednesday 00:00 /  / MIXCLOUD https://www.mixcloud.com/tulipblack/ /  / TULIP'S Mothers! MIX Frankie Boyle - on Louis CK and misogyny Idles - Mother Teenage Mothers - Orlando & Miranda French Vanilla - Mother's Love Nadine Shah - Mother Fighter A Band Called Flash - Mother Confessor Daft Punk - Motherboard Niki & the Dove - Mother Project Kadhja Bonet - Mother Maybe Estere - Grandmother Grace Jones - I'm Crying (Mother's Tears) Joy Crookes - Mother may I sleep with danger FKA twigs - Mothercreep Perfume Genius - I'm a Mother The Golden Filter - Mother Sisters of Mercy - Mother Russia

KEBABETTE'S MIX FKA Twigs - Cellophane Banks - Gimme Aldous Harding - Designer [NZ] Aldous Harding - Treasure [NZ] Powhiri and Waiata of ëwhen the partyís overí by Hatea Kapa Haka group Bbyafricka - Don't play Repulsive Woman - Rough around the edges [NZ] Marika Hackman - I'm not where you are imugi - Be here soon [NZ] Steady Holiday - Holiday SOAK - Valentine Shmalentine ShitKid - RoMaNcE Josefin ÷hrn + The Liberation - I can feel it Josefin ÷hrn + The Liberation - Caramel Head Qveen Herby featuring Blimes and Gifted Gab - Mozart Alien Weaponry - Ahi Ka [NZ]

[emma-wright-blog]

MORE THAN 12,000 public weather stations dot the US, which seems like a lot until you realize more than 180,000 people run their own weather-tracking devices from home. Check weather station reviews and find more information. Linked together, these personal weather stations—each one a toaster-sized assembly of sensors mounted on a pole—provide the most accurate weather forecasts in the country. “Weather data at your house is usually different from the nearest airport or even from your neighbor’s weather station down the street,” says Kari Strenfel, a meteorologist at Weather Underground, a website that aggregates this citizen-collected data and presents it as hyper-localized forecasts anyone can access. “The more data we have feeding our weather models, the more accurate our forecasts can be.”

For $200 to $500, you can join this weather-watching party. You can build a personal weather station (PWS in the lingo) yourself using parts available online from vendors like Adafruit and Ambient Weather. The basic structure is a pole, a housing for the electronics, and motherboard to run the show. Yes, you need enough knowledge to get the motherboard working. But a proliferation of simple tools for iOS, Android, and desktop computers means just about anyone with a shred of technical acumen can do it.

You want to make sure you buy the right gear, so take notes:

Brains and Body

“Arduino and Particle Photon are good motherboards,” says Dan Fein, a Weather Underground employee and one of the community’s more prolific PWS builders. “I find the Raspberry Pi to be a bit overkill and harder to run on battery power.”

Fein recommends mounting the motherboard in a waterproof container, then mounting that inside a well-ventilated plastic housing. The larger housing holds most of the sensors, and you’ll bolt it to one side of the pole, a few feet from the top. The ventilation ensures that the air being measured inside the housing is the same temperature as the ambient air. “The housing is usually the biggest contributor to station accuracy,” Fein says, more so than the quality of the sensors.

Temperature

Most consumer thermometers have sealed displays that you’ll never see once they’re in the weather station, and they can be annoyingly bulky when mounted in a housing. Instead, look for a coin-sized thermometer that slots into the motherboard. You can waterproof one if you’re good with a soldering iron or crimper, but save yourself the time and buy something like Adafruit’s modified, waterproofed DS18B20. It should look like a cable with a thick stainless steel pin on one end. That’s the part that will pick up measurements, so mount the pin inside the vented housing but outside the waterproof motherboard enclosure, and connect the other end to your motherboard. Strenfel says your housing plays an important role in keeping the sensor stable: “The main key is it needs a solar radiation shield to shade the thermometer from the sun. If the sensor is exposed to direct sunlight, it will register too hot.”

Humidity

The hygrometer is a polymer sensor that absorbs water from the surrounding air. Electric current flowing through it slows down as water soaks into it, so it measures relative humidity by clocking how quickly electricity moves through it. You can buy a combined thermometer/hygrometer sensor. Otherwise, mount this one near the thermometer inside the housing but outside the waterproof motherboard enclosure, and connect it to the motherboard. The two sensors must be close so they measure the same small sample of air. This allows combining the readings to calculate other data, such as dew point.

Air Pressure

Skip the analog barometer and buy a digital one that uses an electronic pressure sensor. As atmospheric pressure increases, the weight of all that air presses down on it, sending an electrical signal to the motherboard. Tracking changes in air pressure plays into forecasting storms and the movement of cold and warm fronts. Connect this sensor directly to the motherboard inside the waterproof container or alongside the thermometer and hygrometer in the ventilated housing.

Rainfall

Buy a standalone rain gauge. Rain collects in a self-tipping tray that empties when it fills with 0.01 inch of water. Each time it empties, a sensor sends a signal to your motherboard, so if it tips 100 times, it’s measured an inch of rain. The measured rainwater drains out of the bottom of the gauge and falls to the ground. Bolt it to the pole opposite the housing and with an unobstructed view of the sky. Debris can catch loosely swinging wires and tear them down in bad weather, so run the cable along the rain gauge mount, along the opposite housing mount, into the housing, and all the way to the motherboard.

Wind Speed and Direction

There are three types of anemometer worth buying: three-cup, propeller, and sonic. Wind spins the cups or propeller to measure wind speed, and turns a vane that figures wind direction. “From what I have seen, the propeller anemometer is usually more precise than the cup anemometer,” says Strenfel. Sonic types are less likely to break or freeze because they have no moving parts, but most cost more than $1,000. Whatever you buy, bolt it to the top of the pole.

Wi-Fi

It’s 2016, and the Particle Photon, Raspberry Pi 3, and certain Arduinos (such as Arduino Yún) feature integrated Wi-Fi, so don’t bother with anything requiring aftermarket, plug-in wireless modules. Whatever you pick, hook it up to a monitor, laptop, tablet, or smartphone, and follow the directions to connect the station to your home Wi-Fi. Unplug when you’re done. You only have to do this once, unless you buy a new router or change the router password.

Placement

Install the station over a natural surface (like grass) at least 100 feet away from paved surfaces—roads, sidewalks, driveways—and far from walls or trees that cast shadows on the housing, block rain from entering the rain gauge, or shield wind from hitting the anemometer. You could put it on your roof, but keep it away from dark shingles. Make sure the station housing is at least five feet above the ground or rooftop and that there’s nothing else within five feet of the rain gauge. The anemometer should be the tallest object nearby. If it’s 30-35 feet above ground level, perfect. Here are some more guidelines.

Power

A solar panel is easiest. Aim for a panel between 3 and 6 watts. A battery between 2,000 and 6,000 mAh should be sufficient to get you through winter’s short, cloudy days. Because a solar panel can get in the way of your station’s equipment, mount it separately on the roof or on its own stand, then run the power cable to the motherboard. The motherboard should now also power all the connected sensors. After it’s up and running, you should start receiving real-time weather data on your home network. You can connect it to a weather-sharing service like Weather Underground to improve local forecasts and share your data with everybody nearby.